Paul. He felt,
too, as though he had a new motive in his life. Mary Bolitho had said
nothing that seemingly accounted for this, and yet he knew that her words
had determined his action. A feeling of pride which he had never known
before possessed him. He wanted to go to this girl with a name as good
as her own. Money, he knew he could get, yes, and position, too. During
the last few months he had listened to several fairly prominent Members
of Parliament. He had analysed their speeches and estimated their
powers, and he was not afraid of them. He was as big a man as any of
them; yes, bigger, stronger, and with more will power. No, he was not
afraid that he could not win position, but with this black cloud hanging
over him he felt as though he were paralysed. And so, when a local train
left Carlisle towards the station nearest to his mother's old home, it
was with a fixed determination that he would not leave Scotland until he
had discovered all that could be known. Perhaps it might end in nothing,
but he must find out.

It was with a curious feeling in his heart that he presently arrived at
the little farmhouse where his mother was born and reared. In spite of
the fact that he was a country lad, he had never realised the meaning of
loneliness as he realised it now. No other house was near; the little
farmhouse was the only building in sight. As far as the eye could reach,
beyond the few acres of land which had been reclaimed from the moors,
there seemed to him nothing but wild desolation. Hill rose upon hill,
and while the scene was almost majestic, it made him understand how
lonely his mother's life must have been. He stood for several minutes
looking at the house before entering. He did not know whether his
grandfather was living or not, and for the first time it struck him that
he might have relatives living there, to whose existence he had
previously been indifferent. The day was as still as death, and it
seemed to him as though the place were uninhabited. Presently, however,
he heard the sound of a human voice, and, turning, he saw a rough-looking
lad driving some cattle before him. The lad eyed him strangely as he
came up to the little farm buildings, and seemed to wonder why he should
be there. The time was evening, an evening of late summer, and Paul
remembered that it was in the late summer-time when Douglas Graham, his
father, had first come into the district. He called to mind, too, that