that they were in the South of France--Arles, the man thought the place
was called--the time of their return to town being very uncertain; though
one thing was clear, they meant to miss the forthcoming London season
altogether.

As Christopher's hope to see her again had brought a resolve to do so, so
now resolve led to dogged patience. Instead of attempting anything by
letter, he decided to wait; and he waited well, occupying himself in
publishing a 'March' and a 'Morning and Evening Service in E flat.' Some
four-part songs, too, engaged his attention when the heavier duties of
the day were over--these duties being the giving of lessons in harmony
and counterpoint, in which he was aided by the introductions of a man
well known in the musical world, who had been acquainted with young
Julian as a promising amateur long before he adopted music as the staff
of his pilgrimage.

It was the end of summer when he again tried his fortune at the house in
Exonbury Crescent. Scarcely calculating upon finding her at this
stagnant time of the town year, and only hoping for information, Julian
was surprised and excited to see the shutters open, and the house wearing
altogether a living look, its neighbours having decidedly died off
meanwhile.

'The family here,' said a footman in answer to his inquiry, 'are only
temporary tenants of the house. It is not Lady Petherwin's people.'

'Do you know the Petherwins' present address?'

'Underground, sir, for the old lady. She died some time ago in
Switzerland, and was buried there, I believe.'