pparent. Once she asked pathetically if there was
no way in which she could help. I had not the heart to say what was in
my mind, that it would be better and easier for me if she ignored my
unhappiness altogether; and that sympathy and compassion only plunged
me deeper into gloom, as showing me that it was evident that there was
something amiss--but I said "No, there is nothing; and no one can help
me, unless God kindles the light He has quenched. Be your own dear self
as much as possible; think and speak as little of me as you can,"--and
then I added: "Dearest, my love for you is here, as strong and pure as
ever--don't doubt that--only I cannot find it or come near it--it is
hidden from me somewhere--I am like a man wandering in dark fields, who
sees the firelit window of his home; he cannot feel the warmth, but he
knows that it is there waiting for him. He cannot return till he has
found that of which he is in search."

"Could he not give up the search?" said Maud, smiling tearfully. "Ah,
not yet," I said. "You do not know, Maud, what my work has been to
me--no man can ever explain that to any woman, I think: for women live
in life, but man lives in work. Man DOES, woman IS. There is the
difference."

We drew near the village. The red sun was sinking over the plain, a
ball of fire; the mist was creeping up from the low-lying fields; the
moon hung, like a white nail-paring, high in the blue sky. We went to
the little inn, where we had been before. We ordered tea--we were to
return by train--and Maud being tired, I left her, while I took a turn
in the village, and explored the remains of an old manor-house, which I
had seen often from the road. I was intolerably restless. I found a
lane which led to the fields behind the manor. It was a beautiful
scene. To the left of me ran the great plain brimmed with mist; the
manor, with its high gables and chimney-stacks, stood up over an
orchard, surrounded by a high, ancient brick wall, with a gate between
tall gate-posts surmounted by stone balls. The old pasture lay round
the house, and there were many ancient elms and sycamores forming a
small park, in the boughs of which the rooks, who were now streaming
home from the fields, were clamorous. I found myself near a chain of
old fish-ponds, with thorn-thickets all about them; and here the old
house stood up against a pure evening sky, rusty red below, melting
into a pure green above. My heart went out in wonder at the thought o