“Well, Brandon,” said he, cordially, “that last shipment has turned out finely. More than a thousand pounds. And it’s all your doing. I objected, but you were right. Let me congratulate you.” Something in Brandon’s face seemed to surprise the old gentleman, and he paused for a moment. “Why what’s the matter, my boy?” he said, in a paternal voice. “You have not heard any bad news, I hope, in that letter--I hope it’s nothing serious?” Brandon gave a faint smile. “Serious enough,” said he, looking away with an abstracted gaze, “to put a sudden end to my Australian career.” “Oh no--oh no!” said the other, earnestly; “not so bad as that.” “I must go home at once.” “Oh well, that may be, but you will be back again. Take a leave of absence for five years if you wish, but don’t quit for good. I’ll do the business and won’t complain, my boy. I’ll keep your place comfortable for you till your return.” Brandon’s stern face softened as he looked at the old man, whose features were filled with the kindest expression, and whose tone showed the affectionate interest which he felt. “Your kindness to me, Mr. Compton,” said he, very slowly, and with deep feeling, “has been beyond all words. Ever since I first came to this country you have been the truest and the best of friends. I hope you know me well enough to believe that I can never forget it. But now all this is at an end, and all the bright prospects that I had here must give way to the call of the sternest duty. In that letter which I received last night there came a summons home which I can not neglect, and my whole life hereafter must be directed toward the fulfillment of that summons. From mid-day yesterday until dawn this morning I paced my room incessantly, laying out my plans for the future thus suddenly thrust upon me, and though I have not been able to decide upon any thing definite, yet I see plainly that nothing less than a life will enable me to accomplish my duty. The first thing for me to do is to acquaint you with this and to give up my part in the business.” Mr. Compton placed his elbow on the table near which he had seated himself, leaned his head upon his hand, and looked at the floor. From Brandon’s tone he perceived that this resolution was irrevocable. The deep dejection which he felt could not be concealed. He was silent for a long time. “God knows,” said he, at last, “that I would rather have failed in business than that this should have happened.” Brandon looked away and said nothing. “It comes upon me so suddenly,” he continued. “I do not know what to think. And how can I manage these vast affairs without your assistance? For you were the one who did our business. I know that well. I had no head for it.” “You can reduce it to smaller proportions.” said Brandon; “that can easily be done.” The old man sighed.