cious volition.

Nick said no more. He had chosen the shortest route, and his main object
was to accomplish the distance without disturbing her thoughts.

They came out at length upon the shore, where the stream from the glen
gurgled and fell in bubbling cascades into its channel on the beach. The
sun poured full over a sea of blue and purple, threaded with silvery
pathways here and there.

Olga paused for a moment, as it were instinctively, because from her
earliest childhood she had always paused in just that spot to drink in
the beauty of the scene.

Nick waited beside her, alert but patient. When she turned along the
beach, he turned also, walking close to her over the stones, saying no
word.

They came to the hollow in the rocks where she and Violet had rested on
that summer morning, and again Olga paused with her face to the sea. A
curious little spasm passed across it as she looked. Far away a white
sail floated over the blue, and the cries of circling gulls came to them
over the water. There was no other sound but the long, long roar of the
sea.

Again, in utter silence, Olga turned, pursuing her way. They reached the
cliff-path that still remained intact, and began to climb.

The way was steep, but she did not seem aware of it. Nick, lithe and
agile, followed her step for step. His yellow face was full of anxious
wrinkles. He looked neither to right nor left, watching her only.

Olga never paused in the ascent. She went unswervingly, as though drawn
by some magnetic force above. Reaching the summit of the cliff, she
turned at once from the Redlands ground, and struck across towards the
boundary of the Priory. Nick fell into pace beside her again, vigilant
as an eagle guarding its young in the first terrifying flight, not
offering help, but ready to give it at the first sign of weakness.

But Olga gave no such sign. Only as they came in sight of the old grey
building, standing stark and gaunt above them, she uttered a sudden sigh
that seemed to break from her in spite of rigid restraint. And a moment
later she quickened her pace.

They passed at length around a buttressed corner and so on to the
yew-lined drive that led to the front of the house. The Gothic archway
gaped wide to the spring sunshine. Olga came swiftly to it, and there
stood suddenly still.

"Nick!" she said. "Nick!"

Her voice was vibrant, her eyes widely staring into the gloom within.

He slipped his arm about her, that wiry arm