a life in the sensuous
delight of moving amongst beautiful places. I want to come into touch
with my kind, to feel the pulse of humanity, to drink the whole cup of
life with its joys and sorrows. Contemplation should be the end of
life--its evening, not its morning."

"Douglas," she cried, "you are right. You know that you have power.
Out into the world and use it! Oh, if I were you, if I were a man, I
would not hesitate for a moment."

His hand fell upon her shoulder. He pointed downwards.

"How far am I bound," he asked hoarsely, "to do your father's bidding?"

The glow passed from her cheeks. She moved imperceptibly away from him.

"Douglas," she said, "it is of that I came to speak to you to-night.
You know that I have a brother who is eternally banished from home,
whose life I honestly believe my father's severity has ruined. I saw
him in London not long ago, and he sent a message to you. It is very
painful for me to even think of it, Douglas, for I always believed my
father to be a just man. He has let you believe that you were a pauper.
My brother told me that it was not true--that there was plenty of money
for your education, and that there should be some to come to you.
There, I have told you! You must go to my father and ask him for the
truth!"

He was silent for a moment. It was a strange thing to hear.

"If this is true," he said, "it is freedom."

"Freedom," she repeated, and glided away from him whilst he stood there
dreaming.

CHAPTER III

THE MAN WHO WAS IN A HURRY

He lay back in a corner seat of the carriage, panting, white-faced,
exhausted. His clumsy boots, studded with nails, were wet, and his
frayed black trousers were splashed with mud. In his eyes was the light
of vivid fear, his delicate mouth was twitching still with excitement.
In his ears there rang yet the angry cry of the guard, the shouting of
porters, the excitement of that leap through the hastily-opened carriage
door tingled yet in his veins. Before his eyes there was a mist. He
was conscious indeed that the carriage which he had marked out as being
empty was tenanted by a single person, but he had not even glanced
across towards the occupied seat. What mattered it so long as they were
off? Already the fields seemed flying past the window, and the
telegraph posts had commenced their frantic race. Ten, twenty, forty
miles an hour at least-off on that wonderful run, the pride of the
directors and the despair of rival co