on the road itself without any interval of garden; and little irregular gleams of light indicating the scarcely visible houses. Lucy, however, did not lead the way toward the village. She went along the other side of the common toward a house more important than the cottages, which stood upon a little elevation, with a grassy bank and a few moderate-sized trees. “Oh, she’s in Greenbank, this lady,” said Ralph. “I thought the old doctor was still there.” “He died last year, after Charlie died at sea--didn’t you know? He never held up his head, Raaf, after Charlie died.” “The more fool he; Charlie drained him of every penny, and was no credit to him in any way. He should have been sent about his business years ago. So far as concerned him, I always thought the doctor very weak.” “Oh, Raaf, he was his only son!” “What then? You think it’s only that sort of relationship that counts. The doctor knew as well as any one what a worthless fellow he was.” “But he never held up his head again,” said Lucy, “after Charlie died.” “That’s how nature confutes all your philosophy, Wradisley,” said the other man. “That is the true tragedy of it. Worthy or unworthy, what does it matter? Affection holds its own.” “Oh, I’ve no philosophy,” said Ralph, “only common sense. So they sold the house! and I suppose the poor old doctor’s library and his curiosities, and everything he cared for? I never liked Carry. She would have no feeling for what he liked, poor old fellow. Not worth much, that museum of his--good things and bad things, all pell-mell. Of course she sold them all?” “The most of them,” Lucy confessed. “What could she do otherwise, Raaf? They were of no use to her. She could not keep up the house, and she had no room for them in her own. Poor Carry, he left her very little; and her husband has a great struggle, and what could she do?” “I don’t suppose she wanted to do anything else,” said Ralph, in a surly tone. “Look here, I sha’n’t go in with you since it’s the doctor’s house. I had a liking for the old fellow--and Bertram and I are both smoking. We’ll easy on a bit till the end of the common, and wait for you coming back.” “If you prefer it, Raaf,” Lucy said, with a small tone of resignation. She stood for a moment in the faint twilight and starlight, holding her head a little on one side with a wistful, coaxing look. “I did wish you to see her,” she said. “Oh, I’ll see her some time, I suppose. Come, Bertram; see you’re ready, Lucy, by the time we get back.”