py?" he went on presently. "A lonely
widow, she has lost her husband, and her son was killed in the war, and
yet she is happy. Her faith is strong, she has no fear. Of course she's
simple, and she's ignorant; but if she's happy--great God, what does all
our learning amount to? What is the value of all this culture of which
we boast? She might have known all about me in telling that story of
Aaron Goudge, for, after all, the motives of that sullen blackguard were
quite as high as mine. Liddicoat wronged him and he tried to murder him.
Olive Castlemaine wronged me, and I have brooded over something which is
really worse than murder. He had his way, and then lived in torments;
and supposing I have my way, what shall I be the better? Oh, what a
bitter mockery life is!"

He strode along the valley which he had entered, and then, climbing the
hill before him, came upon a long stretch of waste land.

"She told me she loved me," he went on; "told me that, in spite of
struggle, her heart went out to me; told me, that while she feared me,
she was never happy unless I was near; ay, and she told me, that
although her promise never to marry seemed binding when she thought of
others, it seemed to become less and less real when she thought of me.
Well, why can't I be happy? Why can't I keep up my character, and live
in happiness with her? She loves me, and I--no, I don't--I hate her
still--yes, I hate her more than ever!"

But evidently he was not satisfied. The simple farmwoman had started him
off on a new train of thought.

"'Nothing is ever worth doing wrong for; it never was, and it never will
be.' Who said that? It's true after all. We may sneer at right and
wrong, we may say that right and wrong alter with different peoples,
different countries, but they remain; yes, and right is heaven, and
wrong is hell. And I know enough of life to have learnt that hate means
black night. The joy of it is devil's joy, only to turn to bitterness
and gall. What is revenge, after all, but going to hell yourself in
order to drag some one else there? And that's what I've been thinking
of. But if I don't, what then? Let me think of that now; but no, I
won't. I'm not one who vows to do a thing, and then throws it over
lightly."

The sun began to lower, and the air grew cooler. The sweet, fresh air of
the moors fanned his brow, and it seemed to bring healthier thoughts to
him.

"Winfield refused to stay with me as my guest, when he knew what w