an enormity or an absurdity; and
when he tried again to fancy his life without Claudia, he struggled in
vain against the growing conviction that the pictures he had condemned
as caricatures of humanity had truth in them, and that it might be his
part to prove it.

With a shiver he turned away. Such imaginings were not good for a man,
nor the place that bred them. He took the shortest cut that led out of
the Park and back to the streets, where he found lights and people, and
his thoughts, sensitive to the atmosphere round him, took a brighter
hue. Why should he trouble himself with what he would do if he were
deceived in Claudia? He knew her too well to doubt her. He had pushed
aside all obstacles to seek her, and she would fly to meet him; and he
smiled at himself for conjuring up fantasies of impossible misfortune,
only to enjoy the solace of laying them again with the sweet confidence
of love. He passed the evening in the contemplation of his happiness,
awaiting Eugene's reply to his note with impatience, but without
disquiet.

This same letter was, however, the cause of very serious disquiet to the
recipient, more especially as it came upon the top of another
troublesome occurrence. Rickmansworth had welcomed Eugene to Territon
Park with his usual good nature and his usual absence of effusion. In
fact, he telegraphed that Eugene could come if he liked, but he,
Rickmansworth, thought he'd find it beastly slow. Eugene went, but
found, to his dismay, that Claudia was not there. Some mystery hung over
her non-appearance; but he learned from Bob that her departure had been
quite impromptu,--decided upon, in fact, after his telegram was
received,--and that she was staying some five miles off, at the Dower
House, with her aunt, Lady Julia, who occupied that residence.

Eugene was much annoyed and rather uneasy.

"It looks as if she didn't want to see me," he said to Bob.

"It does, almost," replied Bob cheerfully. "Perhaps she don't."

"Well, I'll go over and call to-morrow."

"You can if you like. _I_ should let her alone."

Very likely Bob's words were the words of wisdom, but when did a
lover--even a tolerably cool-headed lover like Eugene--ever listen to
the words of wisdom? He went to bed in a bad temper. Then in the morning
came Stafford's letter, and of course Eugene had no kind of doubt as to
the meaning of it. Now, it had been all very well to be magnanimous and
propose to give his friend a chance when he