ded. The
door opened and Judson entered hurriedly. His cheeks were now flushed,
his eyes fairly blazed with light, his face was bright with a smile of
triumph. "I knew it! I knew it!" he said loudly. "What a victory! What a
victory! Even Nature yields to the power of Will!"

He paced back and forth rapidly, showing no desire to see the book that
had come to us so strangely. Then he threw himself into a big chair,
lighted a cigar, puffed at it vigorously a moment, then became quiet,
looked intently at the glowing coals in the grate, and said calmly:

"Well, let's see what Mr. Hartley has to say for himself. Read the
journal, please."

I had been standing all this time by the table, with the little damp
book in my hand, and watching Judson curiously. I drew up a chair,
opened to the first page and began to read.

II.

March 7.--I begin this journal for two reasons. First, my dear mother
asked me to keep a record of my voyage and of my life, that she might
read it when I got back home. She thinks that I am coming home again. I
promised her to do so, but I shall never see England again. I hope the
day may come when I can take my dear mother to my Australian home, but I
shall never set foot on the island that holds the woman I hate, and that
holds so many women like her. In the second place, I want to write down
not only my impressions in this new experience, but my thoughts. I have
many of them. I want to see them spread out before me. We are now well
started on the voyage, five days out from Liverpool. Uncle John is still
ill enough, and says that he wants to die. Captain Raymond laughs at
him, and says that a little sea-sickness will do him good. I like
Captain Raymond. He is big and burly, and has a deep voice, and a heavy
brown beard. He's just the typical sea captain, an interesting person to
a man who saw the sea for the first time six days ago. I'm glad to find
that I'm a good sailor, and can thoroughly enjoy the new experiences
that present themselves in the beginning of the long voyage we have
started upon. I have written the word "enjoy"; let it stand. I thought I
never should have known enjoyment again, but I do. There's enjoyment in
the knowledge that each hour puts miles of ocean between me and the
woman that has spoiled my life. No, I won't admit that. She shan't have
the satisfaction of spoiling my life. She tried hard enough, God knows.
She played with my heart, much as though it were a mouse an