er whole heart, without a shadow of doubt; to have that
element of warmth in her life which could never fail her, like sunshine
to the earth. Among the cruelest elements of Hadria's experience had
been that emptying of her heart; the rebuff to the need for love, the
conviction that she was to go through life without its supreme emotion.
Professor Theobald had thrown away what might have been a
master-passion. The outlook was so blank and cold, so unutterably
lonely! She looked back to the days at Dunaghee, as if several lifetimes
had passed between her and them. What illusions they had all harboured
in those strange old days!

"Do you remember our famous discussion on Emerson in the garret?" she
said to Algitha.

"Do I? It is one of the episodes of our youth that stands out most
distinctly."

"And how about Emerson's doctrine? _Are_ we the makers of our
circumstances? _Does_ our fate 'fit us like a glove?'"

Algitha looked thoughtful. "I doubt it," she said.

"Yet you have brilliantly done what you meant to do."

"My own experience does not overshadow my judgment entirely, I hope,"
said Algitha. "I have seen too much of a certain tragic side of life to
be able to lay down a law of that sort. I can't believe, for instance,
that among all those millions in the East End, not _one_ man or woman,
for all these ages, was born with great capacities, which better
conditions might have allowed to come to fruition. I think you were
right, after all. It is a matter of relation."

The autumn was unusually fine, and the colours sumptuous beyond
description. The vast old trees that grew so tall and strong, in the
genial English soil, burnt away their summer life in a grand
conflagration.

Hubert had successfully carried the day with regard to the important
case which had taken him abroad, and had now returned to Craddock Dene.
Henriette came to stay at the Red House.

She followed her brother, one day, into the smoking-room, and there,
with much tact and circumlocution, gave him to understand that she
thought Hadria was becoming more sensible; that she was growing more
like other people, less opinionated, wiser, and better in every way.

"Hadria was always very sweet, of course," said Henriette, "but she had
the faults of her qualities, as we all have. You have had your trials,
dear Hubert, but I rejoice to believe that Hadria will give you little
further cause for pain or regret." Hubert made no reply. He placed the
tip