ortunately the wind had gone
down with the sun, and the water was unusually smooth. Constans bent to
his paddle, shaping his course to the southwest, the direction of his
old home on the West Inch.

How cool and pure the air! How clean and sweet the stars that shone
above him! Little by little the fever and the fret of life departed from
him, and he was at peace. He wondered now at the madness that had
possessed him, at the passion that had thrilled him at the touch of a
woman's hand. He had come so near to proving himself a traitor, a
recreant to all that was sacred in his life. And then a hound had bayed,
and a girl had laughed, and the shining bubble had vanished into the
air. Beguiled, betricked, betrayed--base repetition of the ancient
injury. What a fool he had been!

Then, his heart being sore, he tried to comfort himself after a man's
fashion. It had been all a mistake from the beginning; he had never
really loved this amber-haired enchantress; it had been the infatuation
of passion only, and he had escaped; let him be thankful. Or even
granting that love lay behind, was not all of life before him? One day
had passed, but another was soon to dawn, a day for new purposes, fresh
consecrations. In his present exalted mood, even his long-cherished
vengeance upon Quinton Edge seemed a small, a contemptible thing. What
were either his love or his hate in the world-drama that was being
enacted under his eyes. Again, as in days long past, he thrilled to the
thought of a new and larger life, the redemption of humanity, the
establishment of peace and righteousness, the shadow of Doom forever
lifted from the land. There were the rifles and ammunition lying at his
feet, potencies irresistible; surely this was the fulness of time. What
a splendid vision! How glorious his own part in it might be! And so,
through the night, he dreamed and drifted.

* * * * *

It was a week later that Esmay looked into Nanna's face bending over
her, and knew that remembrance had come again. She had listened
silently, as Nanna, between fits of weeping and stormy self-reproach,
made her confession, of her eavesdropping at the door, of her jealous
terror lest she should be separated from her darling, of her new-born
hatred of this Constans, who dared to stand between herself and Esmay,
of the final madness that had tempted her to the unchaining of the dogs.
Yet, when it was finished, Esmay had put forth her hand