and fewer deeds of power, to be laid away in the dark?

"And yet I have a lingering hope that this is a leading too; that I
shall somehow emerge. My dear Chris, come and see me again as soon as
you can. You will be even more welcome if you bring my boy, Edward
Bruce, as I understand we are to call him—_attamen ipse veni_.

"I am your affectionate friend,
"Arthur Hamilton.

"Flora"—his collie, of whom he was very fond—"is sitting watching
me with such liquid eyes that I must go and take her out. We have not
walked as far as the creek yet; the first effect of valetudinarian
habits is, I find, to make one feel really ill."


On the 4th of August, Tuesday, at 11.15, a card was brought to me,
and immediately afterward a tall gentleman appeared, with a boy of
about fourteen, whom I knew at once to be Edward Bruce.

The gentleman, after a few polite words of inquiry after Arthur,
retired, the boy saying good-bye to him affectionately. He left me
his address for a few days, in case I should wish to see him.

Edward Bruce was a boy of extraordinary beauty—there was no denying
that. Personal descriptions are always disappointing; but, not to be
prolix, he had such eyes, with so much passion and fire in them, that
they could only be the inheritance of many generations of love and
hate and quick emotions; his eyelids drooped languidly, but when he
opened his eyes and looked full at you!—I felt relieved to think I