k some young
hazel saplings and breaking others, made an opening for her through
which she scrambled with bent head; then, stretching out his hand to
her, he made her submit to be helped down the steep bank on the other
side. Her straight young figure was just above him, her breath almost on
his cheek.

'You talk of baseness and treason,' he began passionately, conscious of
a hundred wild impulses, as perforce she leant her light weight upon his
arm. 'Life is not so simple. It is so easy to sacrifice others with
one's self, to slay all claims in honour of one, instead of knitting the
new ones to the old. Is life to be allowed no natural expansion? Have
you forgotten that, in refusing the new bond for the old bond's sake,
the child may be simply wronging the parents, depriving them of another
affection, another support, which ought to have been theirs?'

His tone was harsh, almost violent. It seemed to him that she grew
suddenly white, and he grasped her more firmly still. She reached the
level of the field, quickly withdrew her hand, and for a moment their
eyes met, her pale face raised to his. It seemed an age, so much was
said in that look. There was appeal on her side, passion on his. Plainly
she implored him to say no more, to spare her and himself.

'In some cases,' she said, and her voice sounded strained and hoarse to
both of them, 'one cannot risk the old bond. One dare not trust one's
self--or circumstance. The responsibility is too great; one can but
follow the beaten path, cling to the one thread. But don't let us talk
of it any more. We must make for that gate, Mr. Elsmere. It will bring
us out on the road again close by home.'

He was quelled. Speech suddenly became impossible to him. He was struck
again with that sense of a will firmer and more tenacious than his own,
which had visited him in a slight passing way on the first evening they
ever met, and now filled him with a kind of despair. As they pushed
silently along the edge of the dripping meadow, he noticed with a pang
that the stepping-stones lay just below them. The gleam of sun had died
away, the aerial valley in the clouds had vanished, and a fresh storm of
rain brought back the colour to Catherine's cheek. On their left hand
was the roaring of the river, on their right they could already hear the
wind moaning and tearing through the trees which sheltered Burwood. The
nature which an hour ago had seemed to him so full of stimulus and
exhilara