“Just at first, when he came to me at night.  I was obliged to dragoon him, and myself too, to throw it off enough to be able to get through our performance yesterday.  How thankful I am to the regatta that it is not our duty to the country to go through it again to-day!  However, he seems to have rebounded a good deal.  He was about all the latter part of the day with Miss Mohun.”

“I saw him dancing and laughing with some of them.”

“And he parted from me very cheerfully, telling me to assure you ’he did not mind,’ whatever that may mean.”

“He knows that nothing can disturb our love for him, Edgar’s little comfort, passed on to bear us up,” said Cherry tearfully.  “Oh yes, I know what he meant-—Felix’s delight, my darling always.”

“It strikes me,” said Lance, “that if he can save his sister—-”

Geraldine started.

“Oh, the cigar-girl!  Only by that mother’s side.”

“That is true, but she is his half-sister, and he is evidently much drawn towards her.  She is a nice little thing, and I believe he made much of her on the rehearsal day.  I saw they got on much better together, and I think she was aware of the relationship.”

“Yes, it is quite right of him,” said Geraldine, “but she will be a drag on him all his life.  Now what ought we to do?  Shall you answer this letter to the care of the van-man, Clem?”

“I shall think, and wait till I have seen Gerald and Travis.  This letter is evidently written simply in the hope of raising money from me, not in any friendly spirit.”

“Certainly not,” said Lance.  “Having failed to black-mail Gerald, and discovered that you are the heir, they begin on you, but not from any gratitude to you.  Sweetie Bob, as they call the ex-errand-boy, gives a fine account of their denunciations of the tall parson who brought the bobbies down on them.”

Lance felt much reassured by Clement’s tone, and all the more when he had seen Dr. Brownlow, who made a thorough examination, and came to the conclusion that Clement had recovered tone, so that the shock, whatever it was, that his brother dreaded had done no present damage, but that he was by no means fit for any strain of work or exertion, should be kept from anxiety as much as possible, and had better spend the winter in a warm climate.  It was not likely-—Jock Brownlow said it with grief and pain-—that he would ever be able to return to the charge of St. Matthew’s, but as he had a year’s holiday, there was no need to enter on that subject yet, and in a quiet country place, with a curate, he might live to the age of man in tolerable health if he took care of himself, or his sister took care of him for some time to come.