“No, not this moment; I like to know it.  And mammy—­poor mammy—­”

“She is as comforted as she can be that you have Cranky and me; and then papa’s being proud of you has cheered her—­oh! so much.”

“I’m glad they can comfort themselves—­”

“But, Herbert, dear, you must be much better; I did not expect to see you so well.”

“I am not so bad between whiles,” said Herbert, wearily.  “And, while I can, I’ve got something to tell you that will make it up to you, and a great deal more.”

“Make it up?” said Jenny, looking with bewildered eyes at the dear face.

“Yes, I made Gadley consent.  The Rector has it in writing, and it will do quite as well if I die.  O, Jenny, woman, think of my never knowing what you had gone through!”

“Is it about Archie?” said Jenny, beginning to tremble.

“Yes.  It will clear him.”

“I always knew he was clear.”

“Yes, but he can come back now all right.  Eh! what an ass I am!  I’ve begun at the wrong end.  He wasn’t drowned—­it was all a mistake; Miles saw him in Africa—­Cranky, I say, come to her.”

“Yes, Master Herbert, you’ve been talking a great deal too much for your sister just off a journey.  You’ll get the fever on again.  Miss Joanna, you ought to know better than to let him run on; I sha’n’t be able to let you do nothing for him if this is the way.”

“Was it too sudden, Joan?” said Herbert, wistfully, as she bent to kiss his brow with trembling lips.  “I couldn’t let any one tell you but myself, while I could; but I don’t seem able to go on.  Is the Rector there, Cranky?”

“Yes, sir, waiting in the parlour.”

“Rector,” and Julius hurried in at once, “take her and tell her.  I can’t do it after all.”

“Is he alive?” whispered Jenny, so much overcome that Julius had to hold her up for a moment as he led her into the other room.

“Really!  She thinks me delirious,” said Herbert, rather amused.  “Tell her all, Rector.”

“Really, Joan,” said Julius, putting her into the great chair, and holding her trembling hand.  “Miles has seen him, has had him in his ship.”

“And you never told me!”

“He made Miles promise not to tell.”

“But he told you!”

“Yes, because it was Anne who gave the clue which led to his discovery; but when he found we all thought him dead, he laid Miles under the strictest charge to say nothing.  He is on an ostrich farm in Natal, Jenny, well, and all that he ever was, and more too.  He took your photograph from Miles’s book.”

“And I never knew,” moaned Jenny, quite overcome.

“He would not be persuaded that it was not more for your peace not to know of his life, and when Miles was put on honour, what could we do?  But now it is all changed.  Since Herbert’s discovery he need not be a banished man any more.”  And Julius told Jenny the manner of the discovery.  She listened, evidently gathering all in, and then she asked:  “And what have you done?”