We are expecting him home to-morrow." "Where has he been ?" "To Oxford, about the Randall." Harry gave a disturbed, wondering look round, on seeing Edward's air of malignant satisfaction.

He saw nothing that reassured him, except the quietness of Norman's own face, but even that altered as their eyes met.
Before another word could be said, however, the doctor's hand was on Harry's shoulder.
"You must not keep him now, Ned," said he--"his sister has not seen him yet." And he moved his little procession onwards, still resting on Harry's shoulder, while a silence had fallen on all, and even the young sailor ventured no question.

Only Tom's lips were quivering, and Ethel had squeezed Norman's hand.

"Poor Harry!" he muttered, "this is worst of all! I wish we had written it to him." "So do I now, but we always trusted it would come right.

Oh! if I were but a boy to flog that Edward!" "Hush, Ethel, remember what we resolved." They were entering their own garden, where, beneath the shade of the tulip-tree, Margaret lay on her couch.