"Jeanie enjoys the new places and the amusements of hotel life, and I may say, without a mother's vanity, that she is greatly admired; but I think she loves her old friends, and has enjoyed nothing so much as her Christmas at Raby. We are most glad to hear that the Ingleby business is prosperous, and that Guy is stronger, and we look forward to seeing you on our return from abroad, my dear Godfrey, with great pleasure. Jeanie hears from a Rilston friend, who has a cousin at Constancy Vyner's college, that there is a very learned professor there who admires her very much, and that when she has taken her degree they will be married, a very suitable arrangement; but I am an old-fashioned, ignorant person, and I don't think that these new studies teach girls how to make home happy, and I am glad dear Jeanie has simpler tastes." Godfrey flung the letter down, and tore open another. It was from a college friend in Queensland, and gave a lively picture of the life of a sheep-farmer. "Come out and join me," it said; "let your brother manage the business. He can buy our wool, and we'll make a good thing of it." If he could but go, and escape from his misery! He looked up and started violently as he saw Guy standing beside him, watching him with his intent, searching look. "I've been having a turn with Rawdie," he said, and sat down by the fire, still looking at Godfrey, under his hand. There was a short silence, and then suddenly, without warning, Godfrey burst out. "I see no good in all this work, nor in anything else. I believe there _is_ a curse upon us. We'd better cut each other's throats." "That's what I want to talk about," said Guy; "not about cutting throats, but because I know you're in a bad way. I've been thinking a great deal about you. What's the matter?" Then Godfrey showed his two letters, and in confused words, helped out by Guy's questions, he told that he loved Constancy to distraction, that she had failed him in his hour of need, that Jeanie was his inevitable fate, and, finally, that he wanted to run away. He hated Waynflete--no, not only because of the way he had got it, but because--well, there was something--Waynflete took the heart out of him. Guy leant forward and looked hard into his brother's face. "We have got to go down to the bottom of it together," he said. "It won't do to be afraid of one's thoughts. There are no other ghosts so fatal. And as for cutting one's throat, no doubt it's simple, but how about when it's done?" "Guy," said Godfrey, hurriedly, "do you--do you really see that Thing-- you showed me?" "Yes," said Guy, gently; "but that has nothing at all to do with you. That is only a nervous affection, wholly physical. It has no existence whatever for you." "But you said you had seen the ghost?"