There was no bitterness nor heartache in her tears after that. She had but to wait, and her heart's desire would be granted, her heart's desire for Phil—for her uncle, and for herself that she might become more unselfish, more patient, more content, more like the Lord Jesus, Whose little child she was. Millie, as she heard the sweet comforting words, bowed her head and turned them into a prayer. A slight noise made her look up. A tall gentleman came quietly into the room. He did not observe Millie in her dark corner; he walked straight to the piano and stood behind the player till the last sounds of the music had died away. In the silence that followed—for Miss Crawford's voice had grown husky, and she paused to let it regain its accustomed tone—he bent down and kissed her, saying as he did so: "Thank you, that does bring rest indeed!" "Is that you, Sydney?" Miss Crawford exclaimed, as she rose quickly from her seat. "I did not expect you just yet. Ah! You are tired—very tired, are you not?" she asked, looking closely at him in the dusk. "Rather. I have had hard work at the hospital to-day," he replied. "Several poor fellows who had been wounded in a machinery accident were brought in. Two have died. We have hopes that the others will do well." "How dreadful!" said Miss Crawford. "I do not wonder that you are tired and worn out. There, sit down," she continued, as she wheeled towards him a comfortable arm-chair, "and rest yourself. For the present I must attend to another visitor. Millie, come here and speak to this gentleman." Millie came from her corner, feeling glad that the twilight hid her tear-stained face. Now that she was nearer to him, she thought she recognised the gentleman, and then she remembered she had seen him with Miss Crawford on Waterloo Bridge. To Millie's surprise, he asked her a great many questions—odd questions she thought them. Where did she live? Had they a good supply of fresh water for their use? How large was the room in which she slept? Did she keep her window open night and day? He shook his head and looked very grave when he heard that her bedroom was little more than a cupboard, and that the window was so tiny as scarcely to admit any light at all. The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who came to say that Philip Guntry had called for his sister. "Then I suppose I must let you go, Millie," said Miss Crawford. "Say good-bye to Dr. Bethune."