Walden’s eyes were full of sorrowful pain and yearning.

“Well!” he said, with a slight sigh—­“And what then?”

“What then?” responded Dr.  ‘Jimmy’ cheerfully—­“Why nothing,—­except that it will be more satisfactory to everyone concerned,—­and to me particularly—­to have his opinion.”

There was a pause.  John gazed down into the fire as though he saw a whole world of mingled grief and joy reflected in its crimson glow.  Then, suddenly lifting his head, he looked his friend full in the face.

“Forsyth,”—­he said—­“I think I ought to tell you—­you ought to know—­I am going to marry her!”

Without a word, ‘Jimmy’ gripped his hand and pressed it hard.  Then he turned very abruptly, and walked up and down the little room.  And presently he drew out his glasses and polished them vigorously though they were in no need of this process.

“I thought you would!” he said, after a while—­“Of course I saw how the land lay!  I knew you loved her—–­”

“I suppose that was easy to guess!” said John, a warm flush of colour rising to his brows as he spoke—­“But you could not have imagined for a moment that she would love me!  Yet she does!  That is the wonder of it!  I am such an old humdrum fellow—­and she is so young and bright and pretty!  It seems so strange that she should care!”

Dr. Forsyth looked at him with an appreciative twinkle in his eye.  Then he laid a friendly hand upon his shoulder,

“You are a quaint creature, John!” he said—­“Yet, do you know, I rather like your humdrum ways?  I do, positively!  And if I were a woman, I think I should esteem myself fortunate if I got you for a husband!  I really should!  You certainly don’t suffer from swelled head, John—­that’s a great point in your favour!”

He laughed,—­and John laughed with him.  Then, drawing their chairs to opposite sides of the fire, they talked for an hour or more on the subject that was most interesting to them both, John was for marrying Maryllia as soon as possible—­“in order that I may have the right to watch over her,” he urged, and Forsyth agreed.

“But wait till Santori has seen her, and given his opinion,”—­he said—­“If he comes, as his telegram says he will to-morrow, we can take him entirely into our confidence, to decide what is best for her peace and pleasure.  The ceremony of marriage can be gone through privately at the Manor,—­by the way, why don’t you ask your friend the Bishop to officiate?  I suppose he knows the position?”

“He knows much, but not all,”—­said John—­“I wrote to him about the accident of course—­and have written to him frequently since, but I did not think I should ever have such news to tell him as I have now!” His eyes darkened with deep feeling.  “He has had his own tragedy—­he will understand mine!”