himself that evening.
The idea of going back to the Crow's Nest in his present state of mind
was simply intolerable. How could he have joined in the simple meal and
listened to Goliath's talk!

No, it would be better to have a good long walk and look things in the
face, and if he tired himself so much the better. But Malcolm never
retained any clear recollection of that walk. He had a vague idea that
he passed Earlsfield station, and presently he found himself on the
open moor, where he had driven with Elizabeth the day when she had so
naively confessed her ignorance to him. "I am rather a desultory sort
of person," she had said to him, and he had offered to make out a list
of books for her to read.

He had done so, and she had thanked him very sweetly, and had sent for
some of the books, but he had never seen her read them. Perhaps
Carlyon--and at this thought he ground his teeth hard--perhaps Carlyon
had discouraged her. Horticulture seemed his chief hobby, and he was
always talking to her about a new fern-house they were making at the
Wood House, and Malcolm's poor books were neglected.

He flung himself down on the heather. He would battle it out with
himself, he thought, and when he was in a quieter frame of mind he
would go home. Home, pooh! he would never have a home now!

It was a glorious evening. A fresh, soft breeze had risen and blew
refreshingly in his face, but he never heeded it, for in some moods we
take the gifts and graces of Nature as a matter of course, and yield
her no thanks or acknowledgment for her gentle benison. Even the
glowing crimson tints of the sunset clouds could not move him to
admiration. A line of Browning came involuntarily to his mind:

I will not soil thy purple with my dust;

but he was thinking of Elizabeth and not of the sunset.

"I must battle it out with myself," he repeated. But hours passed, and
the moon had risen, and he still lay there, plucking up the heather and
flinging it aside in a stupefaction of misery. It was only when the
September darkness stole over the moor that he recollected himself and
stumbled to his feet.

He was almost worn out when he unlatched the little gate at the Crow's
Nest. Amias was smoking as usual in the porch, and Verity was with him.
The lamplight from within fell full on Malcolm's face as he approached
them. Verity gave a start.

"Oh, how tired you look!" she said in quite a shocked voice. Malcolm
gave her a weary smile.

"I ha