'Perhaps. I am for ever coming on facts about crime, misery, ignorance—here, there, everywhere; and I know that with a little perseverance and resolution I might have been a priest, doing the only work worth doing—and behold, all I have done—has been—to gratify my passion—for music—and call it—dedicating—' He had begun to cough distressingly, and could not go on.

'If I had not known it was more spirits than lungs, I would not have let you go on,' said Dr. May, when Lance could hear again. 'Your present life is irksome, and you think you may have done wrong in not making an effort for the higher service?' Lance nodded assent. 'But remember, non-commissioned officers are as much needed as commissioned ones, and your Pursuivant is no mean weapon. It is really easier to find clergy than thorough-going lay-men in a position like yours; and from all I can gather, if you had tried to fight your way to Ordination, you would only have broken down, and done nothing. So be content, my boy. You have honestly put the higher duty foremost, and it will come right somehow.'

'Only—'

'Hush! If the thermometer gets above 50 degrees, take a turn in the cloister. Fresh air will do sleep and spirits the most good; only lay up entirely, and blister on any symptom of return of pain. But go about the house, and get back to family habits as you feel up to them, not troubling yourself as to what is to come after. I'm wrong! You are never to ride outside a velocipede in the rain again. That pleasure is for ever forbidden! Somewhere about the end of the east winds you may go into questions of the future, though to me it seems that your post is one of rare value and influence. While—as for the "not impossible she," for whom it is worth while to go in in particular—depend upon it, she is waiting for you, and will fall in your way yet, even if, as Captain M'Intyre felicitously expresses it, your veins were filled with printers' ink! I should be ashamed to think it could be otherwise. Now rest. Don't speak.'

'Only one thing. My voice—will it come again?'

'Your voice? Of course. You spoke very well before I let you wear it out.'

'For speaking—oh yes—but singing?'

'Singing? Your throat was a good deal affected. Your voice—what kind? High tenor, did you say? Ah! those are very soon damaged; but one can't tell; don't go trying experiments on it too soon. Happily, it is not a vital question with you.' And as he saw the lip tremble, and a tear in the eye, 'Don't fancy I meant to prepare you for its loss; I dare say you would rather lose a good deal besides.'

'I believe I had.'

'Let it alone then, and guard your throat.' And with a few more counsels as to the treatment, Dr. May left him, and much consoled Felix and Cherry by assurances that the lungs were fast recovering, and that the spirits would probably follow them. And he then proceeded to give a message that he was to deliver contingently upon his patient's state—namely, the offer of a visit from Gertrude. His little granddaughter, Margaret Rivers, was at Dawlish, in so sad a state of suffering, that he and Ethel were to go and be with the parents; but Gertrude was not wanted, and would gladly bestow herself upon Geraldine.