heavy upon him, and he was brought up absolutely
without a notion of what his own future might be. He had mooned about
among books to some trifling extent, but the taste for study had never
taken him. The silly mode of culture which he had undergone availed
nothing against the instincts of his race. His grandfather was a sort of
living aberration--a queer variety such as Nature will sometimes
interpolate amid the most steady of strains; but young Ellington's
moods, and tendencies, and capabilities reverted to the old line. Yet,
despite his restless energy, despite his incapacity for that active
thought which makes solitude bearable, he was crushed into the mould
that the Squire had prepared for him. His distractions were few, and in
his vigorous mind, with its longing for instant action, its continual
revolt against self-contained speculation, there arose a dull fear of
the future, a longing for deliverance. It was not a merry existence for
a young man who heard the brave currents of life sounding around and
calling him vaguely to come and adventure himself with the rest. He knew
that the sons of the men who laughed at his grandfather laughed also at
him, and regarded him with a somewhat impertinent wonder, but he dared
explain himself to none, and dared seek companionship with none. This is
why he looked so listless as he lounged toward the sea that fine
afternoon. There was enough all round him to please anyone with an eye
for the quiet beauty of inanimate things. The lights slid and quivered
on the golden windings of the walk. Here and there the beams that came
through were toned into a kind of floating greenness that looked glad
and tender. The light wind overhead set the leaves talking, and their
silky rustle sounded sharp through the low murmur of the near sea. Now
and then came other sounds. A cushat would moan from her high fir-top,
or a pheasant deep in the shadows would call with his resonant guttural.
But young Mr. Ellington did not heed the sounds and sights that asked
his attention; he hardly heeded his own being, and his footsteps grated
on till the veil of the trees seemed drawn back, and he saw the shining
sea glimmering under a light haze. Far out toward the centre of the blue
circle, a fishing-boat lunged heavily as the deliberate rollers came
shoreward, and upon this boat he fixed his eye with that meaningless
intentness born of weariness.

He had begun to time his vague thought by the regular swing of