not found much-but she no longer felt isolated and alone; and she experienced a feeling of gratitude, deep beyond words, to her companion.

Not so he. Heart and pulses beat with a high, rapid, sustained motion of delight at her kindness: while he tried to make himself believe that she would never have taken him for her friend if another had remained to her, yet he was fain to listen to a different voice, which told him that she treated him neither to ceremony nor condescension, but with the respectful cordiality of one equal to another. Such treatment was to his mental palate at once bitter and sweet-sweet, because it showed that she approved him, liked him, honoured him; bitter, because he fancied it quietly assumed that he could never mistake her frankness, or forget his position. He was mistaken: Katharine not only ignored his position, she forgot entirely that he had any position different from her

own.

Her mind spoke to his mind; not her wealth and station to his poverty and

obscurity. They walked in silence along the lighted street, and parted at Mrs. Holden's door.

CHAPTER V.

'Weep ye not for the dead, neither bemoan him; but weep sore for him that goeth away, for he shall return no more, nor see his native land.'-Ecclesiastes.

FEW days later Thorgerd received a letter from home, informing her of the serious illness of her father, and desiring her immediate return. She caught at the idea with eagerness, and Katharine, though with grief, offered no opposition, but went with her to Manchester to see her off.

At the station the train was waiting. There was still about ten minutes before it was time for it to start, and having found an empty compartment, they both got in, and sat there conversing, trying to say farewell. farewell. Thorgerd

was pale; her eyes were heavy and sad, and her mouth was closed with that sorrowful tension which marks a secret care.

'You will not forget to write to me, Thorgerd,' said Katharine.

་

'No, and you will do the same.'

Oh, yes.

But I have merely a chronicle of sorrows to send you. The history of a fresh disappointment every day.'

'Well, and that will be better than that my life here should be suddenly put out like an extinguished candle. I shall seem to be near you sometimes if I hear from you.'

It was near the time for starting. A lady and gentleman got into the carriage; they looked comfortable, prosperous young people. There was a great bustle and much shouting on the platform. Katharine clasped Thorgerd's two hands, and, foreign fashion, kissed her on either cheek, whispering, 'Good - bye, If dearest friend.

my again

we never

meet

Thorgerd was almost speechless. Do we

not all know those hideous moments of separation ? The people who had got into the carriage wondered in an indifferent way what was the secret of this agony of parting, for though neither spoke, their white faces, and the long, tearless gaze of their eyes, each into the other's, said that it was no every-day farewell.

A porter came down the platform, waving his arm, shutting doors, and demanding in a loud, blatant voice, if there were any more for Chester. Katharine was forced to get out. One more kiss, an 'Adieu!' from Thorgerd that sounded like a sob, and then Katharine stood on the platform; the train began to move, and soon they saw each other no more.

There are some words, more true than sweet-' Weep ye not for the dead, neither bemoan him; but weep sore for him that goeth away, for he shall return no more, nor see his native country.'