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CHAPTER XXIV.

AN END AND A BEGINNING.

It was a morning full of promise and sweet air. It seemed as if the sun had been reconciled to England once more. He had breathed away the early mists from the river, and made its surface tremulous with laughter. The year, now old enough to be staid and placid, capriciously renewed its youth and the first wonder of summer. Irvine, who grew stronger daily, was already propped and pillowed on the lawn, imbibing health. Close beside him sat Ned, cross-legged, weaving a net. Kerisen leaned his back against the big lime, and smoked his afterbreakfast cigar. Leonard Aubrey, all white flannel from head to foot, had flung himself on the warm grass by Irvine's feet-Leonard, the embodiment of easy mirth, laughing with the laughter of the running stream. Talk came lazily, and in fragments.

"They go to-morrow," said Kerisen, moodily, in answer to a question. "They will come again in spring, like other good things."

Irvine quoted dreamily—

"But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather, And singing, and loving-all come back together."

"More singing than loving," muttered Kerisen, curtly, and tossed the rest of his cigar into the river. After a pause he looked round upon his friends with a droll expression, and made this dismal confession: "She said yesterday, that when she had reached her best, she should marry a firstrate accompanyist.”

"What were you talking about when she said that?" asked Ned, sagely.

"Oh, I make no secret of my feelings."

'No, that you don't," cried Leonard Aubrey, laughing.

"I shall win some day, when I have served my seven years or more. Better to wait a lifetime for her than look at any other woman."

"He makes no secret of his feelings," observed the mocker from the grass. "Indeed he does not. He whispers his hope to the stage-carpenter and the call-boy. The printer's devil who waits for those invaluable articles, has demanded a higher

salary for listening over time to Mr Kerisen's confidences. Contributions are daily returned to him with the request that he will remove the eulogies of a prima donna from his papers on political economy and foreign policy.

My boy, how are

you translated! To think of you caring for political economy, aware of the existence of politics, and in love!"

Kerisen looked down at him with contempt. "Trifler," he said.

"Pluck up a spirit," said Leonard, lying flat on his back, "and come round the world with me." Round the world!" exclaimed Ned, who was kept in a perpetual state of surprise.

"Why not? It's a very little one.”

"When did you make up your mind to that?" "A minute ago. It's a mind easily made up. I saw a bird, and the thought came to me.”

"But what shall you do?" asked the practical Mr Harefel again.

"Sketch.

On mornings like this I feel the painter. I shall sketch the world. I am off. I have had too much Oxford; I need a change. It's a duty."

They all laughed, but the traveller looked up wisely at Kerisen, and said, “You had better come.

It will cure you, or make her fear that it will cure you. Trust me, she doesn't want you to hop too far from her hand. She'll soon be sighing for a falconer's voice."

"No, no," said Kerisen, with a fine air of determination. "I stay at home, and drudge, and wait. I shall drive the pen for my weekly and my monthly. When I think of how she works, I am ashamed of myself. Don't tempt me. I am a reformed man." He ceased, and perceiving the inextinguishable laughter of Leonard Aubrey, tossed a small twig at him and hit him on the nose.

"An industrious apprentice of the name of Gallio," said Leonard, in revenge.

Irvine Dale, who had reposed and listened to the small-talk of his friends, lifted up his left hand to Kerisen, and said, "Good-bye to Gallio, and success to Benedick."

Kerisen, holding the hand, which still looked white and delicate, bent down and whispered something.

Irvine blushed, and a look of indescribable happiness came into his face. He could hardly believe his fortune. Ned turned his head and looked at Aubrey. "Are you really going round the world?" he asked.

"Of course.

What else should I do?"

"Oh, nothing."

"I shall see life. I shall paint the Mikado of Japan. Who will round the world with me? Why," he continued, sitting up and staring about him, "we are like four fellows in a fairy tale, princes or millers' sons, or something. I shall send home a dog so small and of such excellent wisdom, that the Egyptian Hall shall be full for years, and a fortune be taken at the doors; or I shall find a wife so beautiful that I shall be made king of the country. My ladder of ropes shall be golden hair. But, after all, there is nothing like freedom. Thus runs the tale. So the four young men arose and embraced each other: and the first faced to the North, for he heard a sweet voice singing in the city of the Czar; and the second faced to the South, for his heart was full of love; and the third faced the East, for it was the only quarter disengaged; but the youngest, loveliest, and best was clad from top to toe in shining white, and he faced to the West"

"And took the steamer to New York," said Kerisen, taking up the tale; "and he wandered on and on, until he came to a fair avenue, and he passed it by; and he came to a second avenue, and he passed it by; and likewise a third and a