he added, with a curious smile. "I shall find
rest there, for I feel very, very tired."

The captain put on his heartiest gaiety.

"What must it be to Tom the Bolshero! I
assure you, my dear fellow, his old bones are
aching at this moment, and as for the leg,"
added the captain, with perfect truth, "it's as
tender as if you'd been rasping it with a file all
night."  The doctor was keeping his eye very
gravely on Mr. Tillotson.

They were now slackening speed. As they
did so, Mr. Tillotson seemed to rouse himself,
and with his heavy clouded eyes dragged himself
to the window.

"There it is!" he said, eagerly. "I see it!
The spire, and the Close." And then he repeated
softly, "Dear St. Alans!"

He was put into a cab, and they drove away
up the town.

CHAPTER XXXIV.  ST. ALANS.

THE old room was disengaged, as were indeed
many old rooms in the White Hart. For
the New Railway Hotel, down at the station—
but that was a long story of iniquity, as the
landlord himself admitted to the doctor. There
Mr. Tillotson laid himself down, at last to find
rest. Then came the reaction. "My dear captain,"
he said, "I shall never get out of this
place; and now that I am here I am happy."

"Nonsense, my dear fellow," said the captain.
"Don't talk stuff."

"No matter, then," said the other, gently.
"I am very glad to find myself here again.
This is the only spot I ever was happy in, in all
my long weary life. O, I was so happy here.
And, my dear friend, I might have been happy
at this moment; but for my own folly I might
have been the most blessed of all men," he
added, raising himself; "but I have lost her—
lost all by my own miserable fault. Sweet
angel, as she always was, she was right to leave
me. Quite right. Still I am very happy to be
here. The whole scene makes me think of her."

The captain was deeply touched; and, stealing
from the room, went to consult Mr. Hiscoke,
the landlord. That host directed him to an
office round the corner: and there the captain,
going into a little compartment which shut him
out (he said later it was for all the world as if
he was "going to pledge his old watch"), wrote
a telegram. It ran thus:

"My dear Child. Come down here. Our
friend Tillotson is not well, and wants to see
you to make all square. Come; if only for
old Tom's sake."

This message the clerk, who was much pleased
with the captain and his pleasant manner,
promised should go at once, in preference to
all other messages. It was delivered to Mrs.
Tillotson within half an hour, at a station some
twenty miles away. In half an hour more the
captain was limping in to his friend with glasses
on his nose, and a bit of tissue paper in his
hand, and very joyfully read it out to him.

"Listen to this, my dear boy. See here:
'Dearest husband!' you know who that is.
Let me see again—yes. 'Dearest husband, I
am flying to you. l shall be with you in two
or three hours.—  Your fond wife, ADA.'  You
know who that is! She's a fine, noble girl; I
always said so. My God! how women— the
creatures— make us blush! They do!"

Mr. Tillotson caught the tissue paper from
him, and let his dim eyes fall on the characters.
But they were not hers, though the words were,
He felt very happy, though the bands were
tightening fast.

The captain had gone down to the coffee-room
for a moment, when a florid, bald, good-humoured
gentleman, much blown and heated,
came up to him.

"Sorry to hear this sir," he said, "about Mr.
Tillotson.  I knew him, but I knew Mrs. Tillotson
much better. If ever there was an angel on
this earth, and certainly in this ungodly town,
she was one. In our family we worship her
for a saint. My name is Norbury, sir." The
captain bowed. "And I'll tell you what I've
come up here for, sir. You knew Tilney, who
used to live——"

"Well, well," said the captain; "he often
drops in to have his little drop o' sherry with
me."

"Yes," said Norbury, " that is Tilney. Well,
sir, they had a sweet little house, just off the
Close, in front of the cathedral, sir, when she,
Miss Millwood, was with them. At that time
we were all stuck in a little hutch of a hole, sir
— I, and the children, and the wife, sir. For
there was a fellow called Topham that used to
persecute the canons like the early Christians.
We have got rid of him; and, thank Heaven, we
have all mended since and looked up a good bit.
And 'tis only last week I was able to take, at a
good rent, the little place the Tilneys had. It's
looking lovely now; running wild, sir, with
flowers, and woodbine, and delicious scents. It
would do your heart good to see it."

"I am quite sure of that," said the captain,
a little mystified, and not knowing what all this
was coming to. "Egad, I am sure it looks
beautiful."

"Well, I tell you what, sir. We were going
in next week—the wife and the children; and
the children are literally tearing wild to get
there,—there's no holding them, sir. But I've
come up now to say, that I know Mrs. Tillotson
loves the place, and Mr. Tillotson above
all; and they are heartily welcome to it. It
is ready for him to step into, and we could
take him down there at once. You see, Captain
Diamond, a hotel like this, though Hiscoke
is well enough, is hardly the place for——"

The captain took his hand and wrung it
heartily. "You're a Christian, Mr. Norbury—
begad you are. The very thing! Do you know,
it's been weighing on me all this time what we
were to do with our poor friend up-stairs. As
you say, a hotel don't do. Shall we move him
at once?"

The captain limped up straight, and entered
softly. Mr. Tillotson was lying on a sofa. "Too
soon," he said faintly, "as yet, to expect her."

"No, not that, my dear friend, exactly," said