ed. This
is the only way of making money, that I can see."

"You are so set on making money?" said Olga, looking at him in surprise.

"Savagely set on it!"

"You have really come to see that as the end of life?" Olga asked,
regarding him curiously.

"The end? Oh, dear no! The means of life, only the means!"

Olga was about to put another question, but she met her mother's eye,
and kept silence. All were silent for a space, and meditative.

They went out to walk together. Looking over the wide prospect from the
top of the Downs, the soft English landscape, homely, peaceful, Otway
talked of Russia. It was a country, he said, which interested him more
the more he knew of it. He hoped to know it very well, and
perhaps--here he grew dreamy--to impart his knowledge to others. Not
many Englishmen mastered the language, or indeed knew anything of it;
that huge empire was a mere blank to be filled up by the imaginings of
prejudice and hostility. Was it not a task worth setting before
oneself, worth pursuing for a lifetime, that of trying to make known to
English folk their bugbear of the East?

"Then this," said Olga, "is to be the end of your life?"

"The end? No, not even that."

On their return, he found himself alone with Mrs. Hannaford for a few
minutes. He spoke abruptly, with an effort.

"Do you see much of the Derwents?"

"Not much. Our lives are so different, you know."

"Will you tell me frankly? If I called there--when I come south
again--should I be welcome?"

"Oh, why not?" replied the lady, veiling embarrassment. "I see."
Otway's face darkened. "You think it better I shouldn't. I understand."

Olga reappeared, and the young man turned to her with resolute
cheerfulness. When at length he took leave of his friends, they saw
nothing but good spirits and healthful energy. He would certainly see
them again before leaving England, and before long would let them know
all his projects in detail. So he went his way into the summer night,
back to the roaring world of London; one man in the multitude who knew
his heart's desire, and saw all else in the light thereof.

For three days, Mrs. Hannaford and her daughter lived expectant; then
arrived in answer to the letter left behind at Hammersmith. It came
through Dr. Derwent's solicitor, whose address Mrs. Hannaford had given
for this purpose. A curt, dry communication, saying simply that the
fugitive might do as she chose, and would never be interfered with.