Without appearing to see Neria, to whose patient ear he was usually garrulous
of the old days in which he lived, Lazarus Graves passed on into the
library, and stood, with folded hands and smiling face, looking up and down the
room with the humble fondness of a dog who watches his master's movements.
But, of a sudden, a shade of bewilderment crossed the wrinkled face, and, turning
his head rapidly from side to side, the old man, with his dim eyes, searched
the room again, as does the dog who suddenly misses the beloved figure. With
increasing perplexity he turned to look at the door behind him. It was close
shut. Then he tottered across the room, and laid a hand upon the shoulder of
the motionless figure in the arm-chair.

“Well?” demanded John Gillies, impatiently.

“Where is he gone?” asked Lazarus, in a voice as dim and hollow as a
sound lost ages ago in the catacombs, and ever since trying to escape to the
open air.

“Who?”

“Mr. Reginald. He passed me as I sat upon the doorstep in the sun, and
smiled. He has a rare smile, has Mr. Reginald; and then he came in, and up
the passage, and into this room. I hobbled after as fast as I could, for I wanted
to hear him say I had kept all as he told me when he went away. And now,
where is he?”

Gillies made no reply, but turned and looked attentively at the old man, who
maundered on:

“He said he'd come back, and I knew he would; and I've been waiting this
many a day just to hear him say I'd kept all as he wanted; and now he's come,
and if he goes again I'll go, too; but—but where is he?”

Still, without answer to the pitiful appeal, Gillies watched the old man as he
stood there in the sunshine, his bowed figure leaning on his staff, his thin, white
hair floating over his shoulders, his mouth trembling with emotion, his dim, blue
eyes always wandering about the room, while once more he piteously murmured,

“Where is he?”

“Where you and I will soon be with him, old man—and where is that?”
said Gillies, at length; but Lazarus Graves did not hear him. Dropping his
staff, he had clasped his hands and raised both them and his ashen face in a joyous
ecstasy, while his eyes fixed themselves upon a point at the opposite side of
the room.

“Why, there he is now,” cried he, “with his hand upon that book he used
to be so fond of. He's looking at you, sir. Why don't you speak to him.
See!”

“And the old man pointed impatiently, turning, as he spoke, to Gillies, whose
fixed eyes never swerved from the seer-like face of the speaker.

“Ah, now he sees me; now he's going to speak,” murmured Lazarus, taking

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Again he seemed to listen. And a bright joy irradiated his face.-- [figure description] 451EAF. Illustration page. Two older men reside in a room by the sea. One man is standing, having dropped his cane, and is pointing joyfully towards something out of the picture, while the other man watches from his seat.[end figure description]

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a step forward and smiling joyously, while he seemed to listen to a voice unheard
save by himself.

“Yes, Mr. Reginald, you said you'd come, and I knew it,” said he, at length.
“And I've kept all as you'd wish it, so far as I was able; but I'm getting into
years now, sir, and am pretty tired by spells. It's coming time for me to rest,
as old folks must.”

Again he seemed to listen, and a bright joy irradiated his face.

“Aye, that I will, sir,” said he, “I carried you in my arms when you was a
baby, and I've held to you ever since; and I'd have followed you long ago if I'd
known where to find you. But now you've come for me, I'll ask no better than
to go along with you. Let's be going, sir. Good-by, Mr. Gillies; you've been
kind and good to me; but my old master's come back at last, and I'm going
away with him. He's come for me.”

“Say you so, old man?” muttered Gillies. “Then, by Heaven's grace, has
he come for me, too.”

Without heeding him, Lazarus turned, and moved a few steps toward the
door, paused, tottered, threw up his arms with a stifled gasp, and fell forward
upon his face. He had followed his master.