been," he added, with a sudden fury. "It
was only that cursed taste for luxury which seemed somehow or other to
creep into my blood, which made me so dependent upon money. Naudheim
was right! Naudheim was right! If only I had stayed with him! If only
I had believed in him!"

"It is not too late," she whispered, stooping low over him. "Be a man,
Bertrand. Take up your work where you left it, and have done with the
other things. This slipping away over the edge, slipping into
Eternity, is the trick of cowards. For my sake, Bertrand!"

He half closed his eyes. Rochester was busy still with his shoulder,
and the pain made him faint.

"Go back to Naudheim," she whispered. "Start life from the very bottom
rung, if he will have it so. Don't be afraid of failure. Keep your
hands tight upon the ladder, and your eyes turned toward Heaven. Oh!
You can climb if you will, Bertrand. You can climb, I am sure. Don't
look down. Don't pause. Be satisfied with nothing less than the great
things. For my sake, Bertrand! My thoughts will follow you. My heart
will be with you. Promise!"

"I promise," he murmured.

His head sank back. He was half unconscious.

"We will stay with him for a moment," Rochester whispered. "As soon as
he comes to, I will carry him down to the car."

In a moment or two he opened his eyes. His lips moved, but he was half
delirious.

"Anything but failure!" he muttered to himself, with a little groan.
"Death, if you will--a touch of the finger, a stroke too far to
seaward. Oh! death is easy enough! Death is easy, and failure is
hard!"

Her lips touched his forehead.

"Don't believe it, dear," she whispered. "There is no real failure if
only the spirit is brave. The dead things are there to help you climb.
They are rungs in the ladder, boulders for your feet."

He leaned a little forward. It seemed as though he recognised
something familiar amongst the treetops, or down in the mist-clad
valleys.

"Naudheim!" he cried hoarsely. "I shall go to Naudheim!"

EPILOGUE

THE MAN

About half-way up, where the sleighs stopped, Lady Mary gave in.
Pauline and Rochester went forward on foot, and with a guide in front.
Below them was a wonderful unseen world, unseen except when the snow
for a moment ceased to fall, and they caught vague, awe-inspiring
glimpses of ravines and precipices, tree-clad gorges, reaching down a
dizzy height to the valley below. Above them was a plateau, black with
pine trees. H