an a spiritual heritage. Yet spiritual it is, and for two men
who in the moment of their extremity will think on meadow, woodland, or
placid village, a score will figure the windy hill, the grey lochan, and
the mournful sea.

For the moment he felt a self-pity which he cast from him. To this
degradation at least he should never come. But as the thought of Alice
came up ever and again, his longing for her seemed to be changed from
hot pain to a chastened regret. The red hearth-fire was no more in his
fancy. The hunger for domesticity had gone, and the girl was now less
the wife he had desired than the dream of love he had vainly followed.
As he came back across the moors, for the first time for weeks his
jealous love left him at peace. His had been a fanciful Sylvia, "holy,
fair, and wise"; and what if mortal Sylvia were unkind, there was yet
comfort in this elusive lady of his memories.

He found George at the end of a second breakfast, a very ruddy, happy
young man hunting high and low for a lost tobacco-jar.

"Oh, first-class," he said in answer to Lewis's question. "Out and out
the best day's shooting I've had in my life. You were an ass not to
come, you know. A lot of your friends there, tremendously disappointed
too, and entrusted me with a lot of messages for you which I have
forgotten."

His companion's high spirits infected Lewis and he fell into cheery
gossip. Then he could contain the news no more.

"I had Tommy up last night on a flying visit. He says that Beauregard
wants me to go out to Kashmir again. There has been some threatening of
a row up there, and he thinks that as I know the place I might be able
to get good information."

"Official?" asked George.

"Practically, yes; but in theory it's quite off my own bat, and they are
good enough to tell me that they will not acknowledge responsibility.
However, it's a great chance and I am going."

"Good," said the other, and his face and voice had settled into gravity.
"Pretty fair sport up in those parts, isn't there?"

"Pretty fair? it's about the best in the world. Your ordinary man who
goes the grand tour comes home raving about the sport in the Himalayan
foothills, and it's not to be named with this."

"Good chance too of a first-rate row, isn't there? Natives troublesome,
and Russia near, and that sort of thing?" George's manner showed a
growing enthusiasm.

"A rather good chance. It is about that I'm going, you know."

"Then if you don'