"George, he is better off," said she, in a dreamy manner, her face turned towards the stars. "I am very sorry; I have cried a great deal over it; and I wish it had never happened; I wish he was back with us; but still he is better off; Aunt Edith says so. You don't know how she has felt it." "Yes," answered George, his heart very full. "Mamma and papa are better off," continued Maude. "Your own mother is better off. The next world is a happier one than this." George made no rejoinder. Favourite though Maude was with George Ryle, those were heavy moments for him. They proceeded in silence until they turned in at the great gate by the lodge: a round building, containing two rooms upstairs and two down. Its walls were not very substantial, and the sound of voices could be heard within. Maude stopped in consternation. "George, that is Rupert talking!" "Rupert! You told me he was in bed." "He was sent to bed. He must have got out of the window again. I am sure it is his voice. Oh, what will be done if it is found out?" George Ryle swung himself on to the very narrow ledge under the window, contriving to hold on by his hands and toes, and thus obtained a view of the room. "Yes, it is Rupert," said he, as he jumped down. "He is sitting talking to old Canham." But the slightness of structure which allowed voices to be heard within the lodge also allowed them to be heard without. Ann Canham came hastening to the door, opened it a few inches, and stood peeping. Maude took the opportunity to slip past her into the room. But no trace of her brother was there. Mark Canham was sitting in his usual invalid seat by the fire, smoking a pipe, his back towards the door. "Where has he gone?" cried Maude. "Where's who gone?" roughly spoke old Canham, without turning his head. "There ain't nobody here." "Father, it's Miss Maude," interposed Ann Canham, closing the outer door, after allowing George to enter. "Who be you taking the young lady for?" The old man, partly disabled by rheumatism, put down his pipe, and contrived to turn in his chair. "Eh, Miss Maude! Why, who'd ever have thought of seeing you to-night?" "Where is Rupert?" asked Maude. "Rupert?" composedly returned old Canham. "Is it Master Rupert you're asking after? How should we know where he is, Miss Maude?" "We saw him here," interposed George Ryle. "He was sitting on that bench, talking to you. We both heard his voice, and I saw him." "Very odd!" said the old man. "Fancy goes a great way. Folks is ofttimes deluded by it." "Mark Canham, I tell you----" "Wait a minute!" interrupted Maude. She opened the door leading into the inner room, and stood looking into its darkness. "Rupert!" she called; "it is only George and I. You need not hide." It brought forth Rupert; that lovely boy, with his large blue eyes and auburn curls. There was a great likeness between him and Maude; but Maude's hair was lighter.