At length Cosmo was able to go out, and Joan did not let him go by himself. For several days he walked only a very little, but sat a good deal in the sun, and rapidly recovered strength. At last, one glorious morning of summer, they went out together, intending to have a real little walk. Lady Joan had first made sure that her brother was occupied in his laboratory, but still she dared not lead her patient to any part of the garden or grounds ever visited by him. She took him, therefore, through walks, some of them wide, and bordered with stately trees, but all grown with weeds and moss, to the deserted portion with which he had already made a passing acquaintance. There all lay careless of the present, hopeless of the future, and hardly dreaming of the past. It was long since foot of lady had pressed these ancient paths, long since laugh or merry speech had been heard in them. Nothing is lovelier than the result of the half-neglect which often falls upon portions of great grounds, when the owner’s fancy has changed, and his care has turned to some newer and more favoured spot; when there is moss on the walks, but the weeds are few and fine; when the trees stand in their old honour, yet no branch is permitted to obstruct a path; when flowers have ceased to be sown or planted, but those that bloom are not disregarded; while yet it is only through some stately door that admission is gained, and no chance foot is free to stray in. But here it was altogether different. That stage of neglect was long past. The place was ragged, dirty, overgrown. There was between the picture I have drawn and this reality, all the painful difference between stately and beautiful matronhood, and the old age that, no longer capable of ministering to its own decencies, has grown careless of them. “At this time of the day there is plenty of sun here,” said his nurse, in a tone that seemed to savour of apology. “I think,” said Cosmo, “the gardener told me some parts of the grounds were better kept than this.” “Yes,” answered Joan, “but none of them are anything like what they should be. My brother is so poor.” “I don’t believe you know what it is to be poor,” said Cosmo. “Oh, don’t I!” returned Joan with a sigh. “You see Constantine requires for his experiments all the little money the trustees allow.” [Illustration: LADY JOAN AND COSMO IN THE GARDEN.] “I know this part,” said Cosmo. “I made acquaintance with it the last thing as I was growing ill. It looks to me so melancholy! If I were here, I should never rest till I had with my own hands got it into some sort of order.” “Are you as strong as you used to be, Cosmo--I mean when you are well?” asked Joan, willing to change the direction of the conversation. “A good deal stronger, I hope,” answered Cosmo. “But I am glad it is not just this moment, for then I should have no right to be leaning on you, Joan.” “Do you like to lean on me, Cosmo?”