heavy sleep of exhaustion and fatigue, and it was the greatest mercy
that could have befallen him.

The hour of wakening was to come--Stephen Letsom never forgot it. The
bereaved man was frantic in his grief, mad with the sense of his loss.
Then the doctor, knowing how one great sorrow counteracts another, spoke
of his father, reminding him that if he wished to see him alive he must
take some little care of himself.

"I shall not leave her!" cried Lord Charlewood. "Living or dead, she is
dearer than all the world to me--I shall not leave her!"

"Nor do I wish you to do so," said the doctor. "I know you are a strong
man--I believe you to be a brave one; in grief of this kind the first
great thing is to regain self-control. Try to regain yours, and then you
will see for yourself what had better be done."

Lord Charlewood discerned the truth.

"Have patience with me," he said, "a little longer; the blow is so
sudden, so terrible, I cannot yet realize what the world is without
Madaline."

A few hours passed, and the self-control he had struggled for was his.
He sent for Dr. Letsom.

"I have been thinking over what is best," he said, "and have decided on
all my plans. Have you leisure to discuss them with me?"

The question seemed almost ironical to the doctor, who had so much more