HE made for the door of the public-house, but the childrenintercepted him. Sylvie clung to one arm; while Bruno, on the oppositeside, was pushing him with all his strength, and many inarticulate criesof `Gee-up! Gee-back! Woah then!' which he had picked up from the waggoners.

`Willie' took not the least notice of them: he was simplyconscious that something had checked him: and, for want of any other wayof accounting for it, he seemed to regard it as his own act.

`I wunnut coom in,' he said: `not to-day.'

`A mug o' beer wunnut hurt 'ee!' his friends shouted inchorus. `Two mugs wunnut hurt 'ee! Nor a dozen mugs!'

`Nay,' said Willie. `I'm agoan whoam.'

`What, withouten thy drink, Willie man?' shouted the others.But `Willie man' would have no more discussion, and turned doggedly away,the children keeping one on each side of him, to guard him against anychange in his sudden resolution.

For a while he walked on stoutly enough, keeping his handsin his pockets, and softly whistling a tune, in time to his heavy tread:his success, in appearing entirely at his ease, was almost complete; buta careful observer would have noted that he had forgotten the second partof the air, and that, when it broke down, he instantly began it again,being too nervous to think of another, and too restless to endure silence.

It was not the old fear that possessed him now--the oldfear that had been his dreary companion every Saturday night he could rememberas he had reeled along, steadying himself against gates and garden-palings,and when the shrill reproaches of his wife had seemed to his dazed brainonly the echo of a yet more piercing voice within the intolerable wailof a hopeless remorse: it was a wholly new fear that had come to him now:life had taken on itself a new set of colours, and was lighted up witha new and dazzling radiance, and he did not see, as yet, how his home-life,and his wife and child, would fit into the new order of things: the verynovelty of it all was, to his simple mind, a perplexity and an overwhelmingterror.

And now the tune died into sudden silence on the tremblinglips, as he turned a sharp corner, and came in sight of his own cottage,where his wife stood, leaning with folded arms on the wicket-gate, andlooking up the road with a pale face, that had in it no glimmer of thelight of hope--only the heavy shadow of a deep stony despair.

`Fine an' early, lad! Fine an' early!' the words mighthave been words of welcoming, but oh, the bitterness of the tone in whichshe said it! `What brings thee from thy merry mates, and all the fiddlingand the jigging? Pockets empty, I doubt? Or thou'st come, mebbe, for tosee thy little one die? The bairnie's clemmed, and I've nor bite nor supto gie her. But what does thou care?' She flung the gate open, and methim with blazing eyes of fury.

The man said no word. Slowly, and with downcast eyes,he passed into the house, while she, half terrified at his strange silence,followed him in without another word; and it was not till he had sunk intoa chair, with his arms crossed on the table and with drooping head, thatshe found her voice again.

It seemed entirely natural for us to go in with them:at another time one would have asked leave for this, but I felt, I knewnot why, that we were in some mysterious way invisible, and as free tocome and to go as disembodied spirits.

The child in the cradle woke up, and raised a piteouscry, which in a moment brought the children to its side: Bruno rocked thecradle, while Sylvie tenderly replaced the little head on the pillow fromwhich it had slipped. But the mother took no heed of the cry, nor yet ofthe satisfied `coo' that it set up when Sylvie had made it happy again:she only stood gazing at her husband, and vainly trying, with white quiveringlips (I believe she thought he was mad), to speak in the old tones of shrillupbraiding that he knew so well.

`And thou'st spent all thy wages--I'll swear thou hast--onthe devil's own drink--and thou'st been and made thysen a beast again--asthou allus dost--'

`Hasna!' the man muttered, his voice hardly rising abovea whisper, as he slowly emptied his pockets on the table. `There's th'wage, Missus, every penny on't.'

The woman gasped and put one hand to her heart, as ifunder some great shock of surprise. `Then how's thee gotten th' drink?'

`Hasna gotten it,' he answered her, in a tone more sadthan sullen. `I hanna touched a drop this blessed day. No!' he cried aloud,bringing his clenched fist heavily down upon the table, and looking upat her with gleaming eyes, `nor I'll never touch another drop o' the curseddrink--till I die--so help me God my Maker!' His voice, which had suddenlyrisen to a hoarse shout, dropped again as suddenly: and once more he bowedhis head, and buried his face in his folded arms.

The woman had dropped upon her knees by the cradle, whilehe was speaking. She neither looked at him nor seemed to hear him. Withhands clasped above her head, she rocked herself wildly to and fro. `Ohmy God! Oh my God!' was all she said, over and over again.

Sylvie and Bruno gently unclasped her hands and drew themdown--till she had an arm round each of them, though she took no noticeof them, but knelt on with eyes gazing upwards, and lips that moved asif in silent thanks-giving. The man kept his face hidden, and uttered nosound: but one could see the sobs that shook him from head to foot.

After a while he raised his head--his face all wet withtears. `Polly!' he said softly; and then, louder, `Old Poll!'

Then she rose from her knees and came to him, with a dazedlook, as if she were walking in her sleep. `Who was it called me old Poll?'she asked: her voice took on it a tender playfulness: her eyes sparkled;and the rosy light of Youth flushed her pale cheeks, till she looked morelike a happy girl of seventeen than a worn woman of forty. `Was that myown lad, my Willie, a-waiting for me at the stile?'

His face too was transformed, in the same magic light,to the likeness of a bashful boy: and boy and girl they seemed, as he woundan arm about her, and drew her to his side, while with the other hand hethrust from him the heap of money, as though it were something hatefulto the touch. `Tak it, lass,' he said, `tak it all! An' fetch us summatto eat: but get a sup o' milk, first, for t' bairn.'

`My little bairn!' she murmured as she gathered up thecoins. `My own little lassie!' Then she moved to the door, and was passingout, but a sudden thought seemed to arrest her: she hastily returned--firstto kneel down and kiss the sleeping child, and then to throw herself intoher husband's arms and be strained to his heart. The next moment she wason her way, taking with her a jug that hung on a peg near the door: wefollowed close behind.

We had not gone far before we came in sight of a swingingsign-board bearing the word `DAIRY' on it, and here she went in, welcomedby a little curly white dog, who, not being under the `eerie' influence,saw the children, and received them with the most effusive affection. WhenI got inside, the dairyman was in the act of taking the money. `Is't forthysen, Missus, or for t' bairn?' he asked, when he had filled the jug,pausing with it in his hand.

`For t' bairn!' she said, almost reproachfully. `Think'sttha I'd touch a drop mysen, while as she hadna got her fill?'

`All right, Missus,' the man replied, turning away withthe jug in his hand. `Let's just mak sure it's good measure.' He went backamong his shelves of milk-bowls, carefully keeping his back towards herwhile he emptied a little measure of cream into the jug, muttering to himself`mebbe it'll hearten her up a bit, the little lassie!'

The woman never noticed the kind deed, but took back thejug with a simple `Good evening, Master', and went her way: but the childrenhad been more observant, and, as we followed her out, Bruno remarked `Thatwere welly kind: and I loves that man: and if I was welly rich I'd givehim a hundred pounds--and a bun. That little grummeling dog doosn't knowits business!' He referred to the dairyman's little dog, who had apparentlyquite forgotten the affectionate welcome he had given us on our arrival,and was now following at a respectful distance, doing his best to `speedthe parting guest' with a shower of little shrill barks, that seemed totread on one an other's heels.

`What is a dog's business?' laughed Sylvie. `Dogs ca'n'tkeep shops and give change!'

`Sisters' business isn't to laugh at their brothers,'Bruno replied with perfect gravity. `And dogs' businesses is to bark--notlike that: it should finish one bark before it begins another: and it should--OhSylvie, there's some dindledums!'

And in another moment the happy children were flying acrossthe common, racing for the patch of dandelions.

While I stood watching them, a strange dreamy feelingcame upon me: a railway-platform seemed to take the place of the greensward, and, instead of the light figure of Sylvie bounding along, I seemedto see the flying form of Lady Muriel; but whether Bruno had also undergonea transformation, and had become the old man whom she was running to overtake,I was unable to judge, so instantaneously did the feeling come and go.

When I re-entered the little sitting-room which I sharedwith Arthur, he was standing with his back to me, looking out of the openwindow, and evidently had not heard me enter. A cup of tea, apparentlyjust tasted and pushed aside, stood on the table, on the opposite sideof which was a letter, just begun, with the pen lying across it: an openbook lay on the sofa: the London paper occupied the easy chair; and onthe little table which stood by it, I noticed an unlighted cigar and anopen box of cigar-lights: all things betokened that the Doctor, usuallyso methodical and so self-contained, had been trying every form of occupation,and could settle to none!

`This is very unlike you, Doctor!' I was beginning, butchecked myself, as he turned at the sound of my voice, in sheer amazementat the wonderful change that had taken place in his appearance. Never hadI seen a face so radiant with happiness, or eyes that sparkled with suchunearthly light! `Even thus,' I thought, `must the herald-angel have looked,who brought to the shepherds, watching over their flocks by night, thatsweet message of "peace on earth, good-will to men"!'

`Yes, dear friend!' he said, as if in answer to the questionthat I suppose he read in my face. `It is true! It is true!'

No need to ask what was true. `God bless you both!' Isaid, as I felt the happy tears brimming to my eyes. `You were made foreach other!'

`Yes,' he said, simply, `I believe we were. And what achange it makes in one's Life! This isn't the same world! That isn't thesky I saw yesterday! Those clouds--I never saw such clouds in all my lifebefore! They look like troops of hovering angels!'

To me they looked very ordinary clouds indeed: but thenI had not fed `on honeydew, And drunk the milk of Paradise'!

`She wants to see you--at once,' he continued, descendingsuddenly to the things of earth. `She says that is the one drop yet wantingin her cup of happiness!'

`I'll go at once,' I said, as I turned to leave the room.`Wo'n't you come with me?'

`No, Sir!' said the Doctor, with a sudden effort--whichproved an utter failure--to resume his professional manner. `Do I looklike coming with you? Have you never heard that two is company, and--'

`Yes,' I said, `I have heard it: and I'm painfully awarethat I am Number Three! But, when shall we three meet again?'

`When the hurly-burly's done!' he answered with a happylaugh, such as I had not heard from him for many a year.