From such companionship and the scenes to which Falconer introduced him, he had gathered this fruit, that he began to believe in God for the sake of the wretched men and women he saw in the world.  At first it was his own pain at the sight of such misery that drove him, for consolation, to hope in God; so, at first, it was for his own sake.  But as he saw more of them, and grew to love them more, he felt that the only hope for them lay in the love of God; and he hoped in God for them.  He saw too that a God not both humanly and absolutely divine, a God less than that God shadowed forth in the Redeemer of men, would not do.  But thinking about God thus, and hoping in him for his brothers and sisters, he began to love God.  Then, last of all, that he might see in him one to whom he could abandon everything, that he might see him perfect and all in all and as he must be —­ for the sake of God himself, he believed in him as the Saviour of these his sinful and suffering kin.

As early as was at all excusable, the following morning, he called on Euphra.  The butler said that she had not come down yet, but he would send up his name.  A message was brought back that Miss Cameron was sorry not to see him, but she had had a bad night, and was quite unable to get up.  Irwan replied to his inquiry, that the count had not called.  Hugh withdrew to the Golden Staff.

A bad night it had been indeed.  As Euphra slept well the first part of it, and had no attack such as she had had upon both the preceding nights, Margaret had hoped the worst was over.  Still she laid herself only within the threshold of sleep ready to wake at the least motion.

In the middle of the night she felt Euphra move.  She lay still to see what she would do.  Euphra slipped out of bed, and partly dressed herself; then went to her wardrobe, and put on a cloak with a large hood, which she drew over her head.  Margaret lay with a dreadful aching at her heart.  Euphra went towards the door.  Margaret called her, but she made no answer.  Margaret flew to the door, and reached it before her.  Then, to her intense delight, she saw that Euphra’s eyes were closed.  Just as she laid her hand on the door, Margaret took her gently in her arms.

“Let me go, let me go!” Euphra almost screamed.  Then suddenly opening her eyes, she stared at Margaret in a bewildered fashion, like one waking from the dead.

“Euphra! dear Euphra!” said Margaret.

“Oh, Margaret! is it really you?” exclaimed Euphra, flinging her arms about her.  “Oh, I am glad.  Ah! you see what I must have been about.  I suppose I knew when I was doing it, but I don’t know now.  I have forgotten all about it.  Oh dear! oh dear!  I thought it would come to this.”

“Come to bed, dear.  You couldn’t help it.  It was not yourself.  There is not more than half of you awake, when you walk in your sleep.”

They went to bed.  Euphra crept close to Margaret, and cried herself asleep again.  The next day she had a bad head-ache.  This with her always followed somnambulation.  She did not get up all that day.  When Hugh called again in the evening, he heard she was better, but still in bed.