sorceress's spells had become innocuous to Tom there might be a chance of happiness for them all still.

"Then where are you going? And why?

"I am going because I cannot remain here longer; not on Sybil's account; dismiss that idea from your mind; but because I cannot help it. I have explained my reasons in the letter I have written to you and left in my room. It is desperately hard to go, but it would be impossible to remain."

"Tom! don't go. Something has happened to make you angry, and you are acting on an impulse you will regret. Don't leave me, don't leave poor little Vita, who has only you in all this world to depend upon,' and she put her hand on his shoulder, and looked up in his face with quivering mouth and tear-laden eyes.

"My darling, I must go. Do not make it harder for me than it is already," and Tom caught her up in his arms and hugged her to him convulsively; then, passionately kissing her, he set her on her feet, and rushed downstairs and got into the carriage before Vita had time to recall him.

As Vita heard the door bang after him, she reeled as if she had been shot; then, with an effort, she pulled herself together, and slowly dragged her limbs to Tom's room to find the letter he had left for her.

She took it down to her own room, and, coiling herself away in the big bedroom chair, set to work to read it.

Three hours afterwards when Mrs. Forbes came into her room to ascertain how Vita had passed the night, she found her still coiled up in the chair, bitterly cold, and shivering, with Tom's open letter in her hand.

"Good heavens, child, what are you doing there?" cried Mrs. Forbes.

Vita turned her large, sad eyes on her, and, for response, handed her Tom's letter.

Mrs. Forbes felt her hands, and when she found how deadly cold they were she laid the letter down, and, ringing the bell, ordered the servant to bring some warmed blankets, at once, to wrap around Vita, and try to restore her circulation, which seemed to have stopped.

In time they got her to bed, and there she remained for a fortnight. The poor child's highlystrung organisation had snapped under the extra strain that had been put upon it, and she very nearly collapsed altogether.

Mrs. Forbes nursed her with motherly care, and by degrees she got better, and, with innate pluck, made a good fight for convalescence.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

H.M.S. FIDGET

Man, proud man,

Dress'd in a little brief authority;

Most ignorant of what he's most assured,
His glassy essence-like an angry ape

Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven,
As make the angels weep.

Measure for Measure.

TOM caught the first train to London, and arrived in town about two o'clock in the afternoon. He drove to an hotel and changed his things, and then went off to the Admiralty to ask for a ship.

The second sea lord, who has the appointment of lieutenants in his hands, was, at that time, a noisy, bouncing, old sea-dog, much given to bad language. If an applicant for an appointment were polite and dignified, old Sir Somerset Hampden used to be very rude; but it was fatal for the applicant to feel insulted

and show it. The Admiral would only get more insulting, and refuse what he had been asked to give. The best way to succeed with him was to give him plenty of cheek, and, if he used bad language, cap him in everything he said. Tom was aware of this.

When he arrived at the Admiralty, and asked for Sir Somerset, the messenger said:

"This is not his day for seeing people, and I dare not take up your card. Only this morning I showed up an Admiral, and Sir Somerset he sends for me afterwards, and told me he would give me the sack if ever I showed any gentleman up when it wasn't his day, and he swore at me awful."

"All right," answered Tom, "never mind about it," and he ran upstairs and knocked at Sir Somerset's door, without being previously announced.

"Come in, and don't stand knocking there like a d-d old woodpecker," shouted the Admiral from the inside.

"Dear old man," soliloquised Tom, as he opened the door and entered.

"Hullo! who the blazes are you?" asked Sir Somerset as soon as he saw Tom.

"I am Lieutenant Marston, sir; lately paid off from the Minerva. I have come to ask for a

ship."

Oh ! you are Lieutenant Marston, come to ask for a ship, are you? What the devil do you mean by coming up to my room without my permission? Do you know that this is not my day for seeing lieutenants? It is like your infernal cheek. Damme, I wonder you don't ask for a billet at the Admiralty."

"So I would like a shot, Sir Somerset, if I thought I should get it. It is just the billet that would suit me."

"I dare say you think you could do my work as well as I could."

"I am sure of it, sir."

"And pray what is your idea of my work?"

"To tell five out of six lieutenants, who come asking for ships, to go to the devil.”

"Oh, that's what I have to do, is it? Well, I will put it in practice this once. You may go to the devil, Lieutenant Marston."

"Oh, no! Sir Somerset. I said five out of six; but I happen to be the sixth."

"And what do I say to him?

"You say: 'I will give you the first appointment that is vacant.'

"And that would suit you, would it?"

Yes, sir, perfectly."

"You don't care to what station you go, nor to what sized ship?"

"Not in the very least, sir."

'Well, damme, I like that, and I'll give you an appointment. The first lieutenant of the Fidget has gone to hospital, and the ship sails for the West Indies in forty-eight hours. You may take his place."

"Thank you very much, sir. I will be ready," and Tom bowed himself out of the room, taking the precaution to see Sir Somerset's secretary, and have his appointment made out at once.

After that, Tom went off to his club and metstanding on the steps of it-Jack Tatton, one of his late messmates in the Minerva, a wild, harum-scarum fellow, but a pleasant companion.

"Hullo! Tom, my sonny, how are you? Come and have a drink."

This customary invitation, when British Naval officers first meet after an absence, was accepted by Tom, and the two went off to the smoking-room.

Soon Tom was recounting, to an interested audience, his late interview with Sir Somerset Hampden. Tom could spin a yarn well when he liked, and his slightly-coloured version was received with much laughter.

There was

no trace of sadness in his manner.

Tatton thought him more vivacious than usual, though a very close observer, and one who knew Tom well, might have noticed a slightly defiant, reckless style of manner, which was new to him.

The whole of the way in the train to London that day Tom had sat silent in a corner of the carriage, trying to harden his heart against the world generally, and to expel from his mind all pleasant thoughts, recollections, and associations of his home life.

"It is no use trying to be good in this world," he said to himself. "Just at the last some unpreventable thing occurs which capsizes all your calculations, and all your goodness is turned against you. Take the world as it comes. Get all the good you can out of it, and, after sucking them dry, chuck the empty husks to your friends."

"What do you intend doing to-night?" asked Tatton of Tom.

"Any blessed thing you like. I am going to amuse myself for one night, as I must join my ship to-morrow."

"Come and dine with me, and go to the theatre afterwards," said Tatton. "I have two awfully nice. women coming to dine with me; the husband of one of them was also coming, but he is prevented. Will you take his place."

"With all the pleasure in life, my boy; and if I do not succeed in filling the husband's situation to perfection, you must explain that the position is new to me, and that I shall improve as I get accustomed to it."

"All right," replied Tatton, laughing. "We meet at the Bristol' at seven o'clock."

At dinner that night, Tom was all the fun of the fair. He was witty and amusing, and made the party a pleasant one. Tatton's friends were fashionable women of the world, with plenty to say for themselves, and they thought Tom charming. At the theatre he