so much to him again; but "Shall we not see you
again for two years?" was spoken with a touch of sadness which thrilled
him into--"I shall hope to see you often in the future."

Miffin was alone among the village folk in his opinion of the new Henry.
The young man's neat-fitting summer suit, his elegant necktie, even his
well-made boots annoyed that worthy by their quiet advertisement of
prosperity. He was one of those who resented success in others, mainly
because he knew himself for a failure. Moreover, no man is pleased to
see his prophecies given the lie. The tailor still blandly assured his
cronies when they enlarged on the worldly progress of the postmaster's
son, that the rising tide of Henry's affairs would yet turn. "Merk moi
werds," said he, "them young men what goes into City life seldom do any
good. They dress well, p'raps, but there's a soight o' tailors in the
big towns as fail 'cause the loikes of 'Enry forgets to pay 'em."

As for Henry himself, his brief reversion to the home of his boyhood had
struck a new note in his life: a note that had only sounded falteringly
before, but now rang out clear, sharp, alarming. The simple contentment
which seemed to breathe in this little village soothed and comforted
him, straight from the jangle of the great City, and he felt for the
first day or two as if he could submit to have his wings clipped, and
flutter away no more.

But soon the dulness of Hampton was the impression which refused to
leave the surface of his thoughts, and he understood that, having
answered with a light heart to the bugle of the town, he must continue
in its fighting line though the heart was heavier. Perhaps he knew in
his secret soul that this heaviness of heart followed its opening to the
imperious knock of Doubt. But still he held fast to his cherished
ambitions, and was as eager again for the fray as the morphomaniac for
a new dose of his drug, though it was with a gnawing sense of regret
that he journeyed back to Laysford.

On his arrival there, Edgar Winton met him at the station, evidently
weighted with news. The contrast between the two young men was more real
than apparent. When they first met at Wheelton, Henry had presented the
exterior of a raw country lad, with an eye that had only peeped at a
tiny corner of life, and a knowledge of journalism that was laughably
little. Edgar, on the other hand, had all the pert confidence of the
City youth and the quickly-gathered cynicism