the man the direction to drive to St. George's Hospital, he took his place opposite Rachel once more, and they drove away.

"Here are the keys," he said; “and I have arranged everything as you could wish.”

"I must get to him as soon as possible," she exclaimed; "he is alone-quite alone."

"We will do what we can," Mr. Buchanan said; “but we may not obtain admittance to-day without an order. The rules are strict, except in very extreme cases. But I will do what I can."

Then Mr. Buchanan forebore all further remark, and left Rachel to herself. Now and then he looked at the face he loved with all the energy of his matured manhood, and he saw that Rachel was struggling hard to maintain her composure. She lay back with closed eyes, and her lips moved every now and then, as the words of prayer for strength rose to her lips.

A strange position for these two, as they made a somewhat slow progress through the streets of the great wide city. In the man's heart, the tenderest and most absorbing love; in the woman's, visions of youth and the far past, and a dread of what terrible scene might be close at hand for her.

Every true-hearted woman knows that pity and sympathy for suffering will kindle the embers of what may have seemed a dead love to life. All the years that had passed since Rachel had stood up in the Meeting House at Cheapstown with Louis, his hand in hers, vanished. He came back to her as the bright, handsome boy who had formed a part of her daily life. The great, calm lake, with its mysterious shadows, cradling, the water-lilies on its breast, was present; Louis, looking at her, as he rowed, with his dark, bright eyes, and telling her the tale

of his love and devotion.

"When I am near you,

Rachel, I am always good." How many-how many have yielded to the same delusion! The awakening from it at last, how rough and how bitter!

CHAPTER XIII.

DARK SHADOWS.

"Suddenly, as if arrested by fear or a feeling of wonder, Still she stood, with her colourless lips apart, while a shudder Ran through her frame, and, forgotten, the flowerets dropped from her fingers,

And from her eyes and cheeks the light and bloom of the morning.

But as he lay in the morning light, his face for a moment
Seemed to assume once more the forms of its earlier manhood;
So are wont to be changed the faces of those who are dying.”
66
H. W. LONGFELLOW: Evangeline."

WHEN the fly drove up to the entrance of St. George's
Hospital, Rachel roused herself.

"Pray help me."

Will you wait here while

"I must see him," she said. "Yes; I will do all I can. I go in? I will enquire for the surgeon who wrote this letter, and come back to you as quickly as possible."

Again Rachel was left alone, and Mr. Buchanan was shown into one of the little bare waiting-rooms, where he was told Mr. King would come to him. He paced up and down impatiently, and a quarter of an hour passed before the door opened and Mr. King appeared.

"I am come," Mr. Buchanan said, "to inquire for Mr. Louis Trouville, who was brought here last evening." "Ah! yes. It is a very bad case; he is greatly exhausted, and we fear the worst. He has sustained several severe wounds from the wheels of the carriage; but his

state of health is apparently very bad, and he has no constitutional power to resist the shock these accidents always produce. Do you wish to see him ?"

"I am most anxious a friend of mine should do so. She is in the fly, and I will, with your leave, call her at once."

"A relation, I presume-the patient's wife or sister ?" "Neither," said Mr. Buchanan, shortly.

"You are aware, doubtless," Mr. King went on, "promiscuous visitors are not admitted to the wards, except at the regular hours. Exceptions are left to the discretion of the house surgeons, on application from the matrons or others. I will, however, gladly admit your friend, for the poor fellow interests me greatly; he has not been in this country long and seems forlorn and friendless. The chaplain will like to see you, I daresay; he has been talking to him this afternoon."

"The lady for whom I ask admission is engaged to Mr. Trouville," Mr. Buchanan said, with a great effort. "I will bring her in at once."

"By all means," Mr. King said; "and I will ask Mr. Cresswell, the chaplain, to meet you here; he is close by."

Mr. Buchanan retraced his steps down the dark, cheerless corridor to the entrance, where several other carriages were standing, and saw Rachel's white face eagerly looking out of the window of the fly.

"You have thought me a long time,” he said; am glad to say you can come in."

"but I

He helped her to alight, and she walked firmly by his side to the room where Mr. Cresswell, the chaplain, was waiting for them.

He was an old man, and kindly in tone and manner. "My dear young lady," he said, "I will take you to

the ward where your poor friend lies. I was with him only an hour ago; he is very, very ill."

"I know it," Rachel said in a calm voice; "let me come with you directly, please."

"Will you will this gentleman wait here ?"

Mr. Buchanan bowed.

"The ward is a long way off, and there are a good many stairs to climb: she looks so tired!" the old man said kindly, almost tenderly-"I think she would like your arm to help her."

Mr. Buchanan hesitated; but Rachel turned to him, and with a sad smile said

"I shall be very glad if you will come with me."

The chaplain led the way, and Rachel, leaning heavily on Mr. Buchanan, followed. The sense of his sympathy and tender care for her was sweet-how sweet he little guessed. It was, as the chaplain said, a long way, and the stone stairs and passages seemed endless.

At last the great door, with "Ward No. 40" printed in white letters on it, was reached; and when it was opened Rachel saw a double line of beds stretching far away in a long vista. Here Mr. Buchanan paused, and, pressing her hand, said

"I will leave you now and await your return here. God help and strengthen you."

Rachel did not speak, but followed Mr. Cresswell up the room where many sufferers lay-a sad, pathetic throng. Quite at the end of the long ward Mr. Cresswell stopped. A nurse was standing by the bed, and she said

"He is very bad, sir-quite wandering. I don't think it will be long now."

Mr. Cresswell held up his hand, and signed to the nurse that he was not alone.