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in the several stages of my legal training, looked serious and thought me rather precipitate. But nothing could alter my resolve. I felt pretty certain of my own powers, and loving rather than merely liking my profession, the study of Text books and Authorities had become a positive source of pleasure to me. Physically strong from a child, and keeping myself in training by a couple of hours' walking with Dan before breakfast, I could both study hard at night, and sleep hard after it; and so it came to pass that I earned my Doctor's degree quickly and with comparative ease. But body and mind were none the less grateful for their present rest after the strain, and I felt nothing loth to indulge both freely.

As the bitter north wind came howling against my well-draped window, giving promise of a bleak and comfortless day on the morrow; and as certain gaily bound volumes in one corner of my sober-looking shelves spoke eloquently, in the glowing firelight, of garnered feasts of a kind to which my mind had been a stranger during these long months, I felt half inclined to regret that I could not spend my Christmas holidays alone, as I had done once before with infinite enjoyment. But such thoughts were for a moment only, being incontinently chased away by others, and still brighter, of my darling Gertie, whom (not having seen since her hurried visit to London at Easter-time) I was to meet to-morrow at our old friend Dr. Percy's in Yorkshire, and there spend a whole * Poor Gertie ! week with her. and looking into the glistening embers, I recalled some painful incidents of the past which I feared had made a martyrdom of her young life and * * but I must not get on too fast.

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Dan, go and tell Mrs. Harrison I want her," and the dog, although to outward seeming in the densest stage of profound slumber, instantly raised himself and walked soberly to the door. Presently he returned in charge of my landlady, who at my request took a seat on the opposite side of the fire.

"Mrs. Harrison, you are already aware that I am going to spend my holidays away from home," (she looked pleased at the compliment implied by this last word) "but I had forgotten to say that I cannot take the dog with me as usual. I need not ask you to take good care of him while I am away, for that you would do as a matter of course, but pray give him a little extra license in the way of food in consideration of its being Christmas time. I think all our friends should have cause to bless the grand old Festival, and this is a dear friend of mine-aren't you Dan old fellow?" and I bent down to him as I spoke. He wagged his ungainly tail and smiled (for, dear reader, dogs can smile, as you know full well, if you love their race) and then looked wistfully at the landlady and myself in turn, as though he knew the nature of our bargaining and disapproved of it.

"He shall share both roast-beef and plum-pudding with us on Christmas Day, sir," replied Mrs. Harrison, who was nearly as fond of Dan as I was myself.

Dismissing the good woman with a bottle of wine and my usual Christmas honorarium, and having arranged for an early breakfast, I

brewed myself a tumbler of mulled claret, lighted a Regalia in honour of the occasion, and attuned my mind to pleasant sleep by yet another reading of that noblest of all Yule-tide Idylls, "A Christmas Carol-by Charles Dickens."

The morning of Christmas Eve broke more hopefully than yesterday had promised, a dash of sunshine tempering the still angry wind as I drove to the Railway Station; and by the time my train had made twenty miles of its journey, I felt assured of right Christmas weather. As we sped rapidly along, taking up and setting down untold passengers and freight at every resting-place, the genius of the season became more and more rampant, and I could fancy the observant eye of Dickens revelling in the studies of Christmas human-nature that constantly presented themselves. For once in the year, at any rate, care seemed to have vanished from the faces of old and young, rich and poor; and more or less of joyous anticipation reigned in its stead. I arrived at my destination in all the better mood for what I had seen and heard during that ride, and with something like an unsung Carol in my heart, I started on my ten-mile walk from Barton junction to Mastonborough, where Dr. Percy lived. A branch line of railway would have taken me direct to the latter in half an hour, but I had plenty of time, and the temptation of stretching my legs along the old Cliff Road, of happy memory, from which I had often battled with the pure North Sea breeze, was irresistible. And a grand walk it was. The very waves seemed to be dancing to Christmas music, and the ships to flee before the wind ast if to find their resting place with their own kind ere nightfall.

It was getting dark when I reached the summit of the hill leading down into Mastonborough, and old acquaintance alone enabled me to distinguish the path that led across the fields to its time-honoured and weather-stained little Parish Church. Taking this road as the shortest, I soon reached the building itself, and finding a faint gleam of light issuing from the slightly-opened door, my curiosity led me to walk quietly in. The gas was burning brightly in and around the chancel, and revealed a wealth of floral decoration which, as the fragments around plainly told, had only just been completed. Seating myself in a dark corner of the nave, that I might the more fully enjoy this unexpected vision, I was struck by the taste and skill with which the work had been done. It seemed as though "Glory to God in the Highest" had been attempted in spirit as well as in letter, and the peculiar harmony and appropriateness of each floral tribute surely indicated a reverence beyond mere deftness of eye and hand. By-and-bye I heard voices approaching, and a troop of girls of varied ages came through the vestry door into the church.

"Isn't it beautiful?" said one, as they lingered round the chancel. "And won't Mr. Etherington be proud when he knows it has all been done by his first class?" answered another.

"Ah! but where would the first class have been without Sister Gertie behind 'em?" asked, in sharp tones, the smallest maiden of all.

This proposition met with general assent, and probably a further commentary would have ensued but for a sudden apparition from the same vestry door.

"Sister Gertie insists on your going home now, girls. You have helped me bravely to-day, and must be thoroughly tired. Good night, and once more a Happy Christmas to you all;" and taking their proffered hands, as one after another passed her to leave the church, she dismissed them with a nod and a kindly smile. I knew the voice in an instant, before I had caught sight of the speaker's face, and was getting up impulsively to go and greet her. But on second thoughts I restrained myself, for glad as I was of this unexpected meeting, I did not wish to startle her by a ghost-like emergence from my obscure corner.

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"And so she is Sister Gertie' to all the parish as well as to me, Alfred Dawson," I ruminated. And then I took a long look at her sweet features as she stood unwittingly in the full glare of the gas-light. Just the same loving, honest face it had ever been, but with a chastened and subdued expression of which I knew the secret only too well. "Poor Gertie!" I thought, and again I felt impelled to go and reveal myself. At this moment, however, I was arrested by a movement on her part. Stepping to the rails of the Communion table, and removing her bonnet, she glanced for a second or two at her own handiwork, and then knelt reverently down and buried her face in her hands. I was deeply moved, for I knew that from her pure heart a prayer was going up for her Lord's acceptance of what she had done for His dear sake that day. I knew also that she would not rise from her knees without pleading for one who used to be very dear to us both, but had since grieved us sorely. Noiselessly I left the church, and awaited her coming on the road I knew she must take to reach the Doctor's house. Presently I heard her footsteps, and allowed her to overtake me.

"Gertie," I said gently.

She started back in amazement.

66 Don't you know me, Gertie ?”

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My dear brother!" cried she, and in another moment I clasped her in my arms.

And as we walked to the house together, I told her of all I had seen in the church, and how it came about that I had thus surprised her. She pressed my arm affectionately, but was silent.

"Has the Doctor heard any more satisfactory tidings of George?" I asked.

"No, Alf," she replied in a low voice.

"The graceless fellow!" I exclaimed, warmly.

"O, Alf, dear, don't say that," pleaded Gertie earnestly.

And I knew that my little sister still loved him.

CHAPTER II.

Dr. Percy and my father had been old and intimate friends. Their friendship began as students together at Guy's-for they both belonged to the medical profession-and continued to the time of my father's

death. The latter married early and settled in London, Gertie and I being born at the house in Harley Street which had been the only home we ever knew. Our dear mother died when Gertie was fifteen, and we followed my father to the grave only two years later, the shock of her loss being too great for him. Dr. Percy, after acting for some time as House Physician to one of the East-End Hospitals, caught a fever there, and was sent to Mastonborough for rest and sea air. Here he fell in love with the daughter of the old Vicar, and in due time married her. Partly because his wife wished to be near her father in his declining years, and partly because he himself had always preferred a country life, he determined to settle down as a surgeon in Mastonborough, there being no practitioner in the neighbourhood except old Nat Sheridan, whose increasing drunkenness was frightening his patients. As the Vicar's son-in-law, he started advantageously, and his skill soon won for him both name and income. For the twenty years that elapsed from the time of Dr. Percy's marriage to my father's death, a regular correspondence had been carried on between them, and the children of both had become friends also. Gertie and I used to go down in the summer to spend our holidays at Mastonborough, sometimes accompanied by our father or mother, or both, but oftener alone; while the Percys made our house their home whenever they cared to come to town.

When George Percy, their eldest son, had finished his school career at Uppingham, and had decided to follow the profession of his father, it was arranged that he should come to London to pursue his studies, and for a time at any rate live under our roof. It was just before my mother's death, and he stayed on with us after we had lost both our parents. He soon became a favourite with everybody in the house, from my father down to Dan, albeit he at times grievously tormented that intelligent animal. With a bright, merry face, a perpetual fund of high spirits, and a singularly graceful manner when he chose to exercise it seriously, Gertie and I found his companionship very acceptable. My mother thought very highly of him too, and yet I remember how anxious she used to be that his very attractions should not prove a snare to him. On her death-bed she kissed him affectionately in his turn, and whispered something into his ear which caused his face to flush, and made him very silent for days afterwards. I think I know now what that whisper was, and that my mother, with quickened keenness, foresaw the dangers into which he seemed likely to fall.

George made excellent headway in his profession, for he inherited his father's natural gifts, and could study rapidly and accurately. But, idolised as he was by his fellow-students, his society was courted on all hands, and Gertie and I saw with regret that the pleasant evenings we were accustomed to spend together after the day's work was over, began to grow fewer, and George's apologies for leaving us more frequent. Towards my sister he was always gentle and considerate, and I think a word from her would then have been sufficient to keep him at home from his most tempting engagement. But Gertie had her full share of maidenly reserve, and after our parents' death shielded herself behind it

in a manner which I, with brotherly stupidity, hardly understood at the time. It had not once occurred to me that the intimacy of those two young people might develop from its brotherly and sisterly form into something more dangerous. I saw, however, that she made no effort to detain him, as night after night he rose from our little dinner-table to spend his leisure elsewhere. For a long time I refused to entertain the suspicions which began to creep into my mind respecting my friend. But it soon became impossible to resist them. The hour of George's return got later and later, and the flushed face and glistening eye that met my gaze, when I opened the door for him, after my solitary vigil, told their own tale. His demeanour at such times was unnaturally boisterous and jovial, and it required no great penetration to detect that he had been drinking more than he ought. One night, he slapped me on the back, and brought from his pocket a handful of sovereigns. "Look here, Alf, my boy!" he said. "I've won that at billiards from old Shee's son, who thinks he can do anything with the balls. But I fancy I've taken the conceit out of him to-night." I was greatly pained, for I am fond of billiards, and had given George his first lesson in the game. He soon became my master, and could yield points to most amateurs, but I little thought it would lead to this.

"I won these for Gertie," he went on, "and to-morrow she shall have the set of Etchings she was admiring the other day in Spagnoletti's window."

"She will have nothing of the kind," I replied warmly, "and I tell you plainly, George, that if this sort of thing goes on, Gertie and I will have to part company with you altogether. I must speak out, and speak plainly. You have evidently got into a thoroughly bad set, and unless you alter your course, you will ruin your professional prospects besides damning your character. I cannot and will not have this danger on my mind while you are under our roof, and you must either change your habits or seek quarters elsewhere."

An angry look came into his face, and he put the money back in his pocket.

"You know how it grieves me to talk like this, old fellow," I continued, taking his hand and looking at him steadily. "For your father's sake, who at present knows nothing but of his son's brilliant promise, give up drinking and gambling before mischief is done.”

He pressed my hand and went off to bed.

The next morning, at breakfast, he was moody, and almost morose. Gertie saw that something was wrong, and looked at him furtively as I had noticed her look often of late.

"George was in bad company last night," she said to me when he had left the room, and I saw that she, too, had found out the truth.

"Alf, dear, you must write to Dr. Percy at once, and tell him. the danger his son is in. I have felt very unhappy about him lately, and we really ought not to conceal this dreadful news from his father."

"It's a sad business, Gertie, and makes me as anxious as yourself; but the news would be an awful blow to those at home. Let us wait

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