a kind of _lusus naturae_, and from his humble position
at the bottom of the tree, gazed admiringly at Godfrey perched upon its
topmost bough. The old Pasteur, too, with whom Godfrey kept up an
almost weekly correspondence, continuing his astronomical studies by
letter, was enraptured and covered him with compliments, as did his
instructors at the College.

All of this would have been enough to turn the heads of many young men,
but as it happened Godfrey was by nature modest, with enough
intelligence to appreciate the abysmal depths of his own ignorance by
the light of the little lamp of knowledge with which he had furnished
himself on his journey into their blackness. This intense modesty
always remained a leading characteristic of his, which endeared him to
many, although it was not one that helped him forward in life. It is
the bold, self-confident man, who knows how to make the most of his
small gifts, who travels fastest and farthest in this world of ours.

When, however, actually he received quite an affectionate and pleased
letter from his father, he did, for a while, feel a little proud. The
letter enclosed a cutting from the local paper recording his success,
and digging up for the benefit of its readers an account of his
adventure on the Alps. Also, it mentioned prominently that he was the
son of the Rev. Mr. Knight, the incumbent of Monk's Abbey, and had
received his education in that gentleman's establishment; so
prominently, indeed, that even the unsuspicious Godfrey could not help
wondering if his father had ever seen that paragraph before it appeared
in print. The letter ended with this passage:

"We have not met for a long while, owing to causes to which I will
not allude, and I suppose that shortly you will be going to India.
If you care to come here I should like to see you before you leave
England. This is natural, as after all you are my only child and I
am growing old. Once you have departed to that far country who
knows whether we shall ever meet again in this world?"

Godfrey, a generous-hearted and forgiving person, was much touched when
he read these words, and wrote at once to say that if it were
convenient, he would come down to Monk's Abbey at the beginning of the
following week and spend some of his leave there. So, in due course, he
went.

As it happened, at about the same time Destiny had arranged that
another character in this history was returning to that quiet Essex
vil