passion that she looked, unmoved. Even the sense of his going did
not change her mood. She raged to and fro amongst the trees, her
movements getting quicker and quicker as her excitement began to change
from mental to physical; till the fury began to exhaust itself. All at
once she stopped, as though arrested by a physical barrier; and with a
moan sank down in a helpless heap on the cool moss.

* * * * *

Harold went from the grove as one seems to move in a dream. Little
things and big were mixed up in his mind. He took note, as he went
towards the town by the byroads, of everything around him in his usual
way, for he had always been one of those who notice unconsciously, or
rather unintentionally. Long afterwards he could shut his eyes and
recall every step of the way from the spot where he had turned from
Stephen to the railway station outside Norcester. And on many and many
such a time when he opened them again the eyelids were wet. He wanted to
get away quickly, silently, unobserved. With the instinct of habitual
thought his mind turned London-ward. He met but few persons, and those
only cottiers. He saluted them in his usual cheery way, but did not stop
to speak with any. He was about to take a single ticket to London when
it struck him that this might look odd, so he asked for a return. Then,
his mind being once more directed towards concealment of purpose, he sent
a telegram to his housekeeper telling her that he was called away to
London on business. It was only when he was far on his journey that he
gave thought to ways and means, and took stock of his possessions. Before
he took out his purse and pocket-book he made up his mind that he would
be content with what it was, no matter how little. He had left
Normanstand and all belonging to it for ever, and was off to hide himself
in whatever part of the world would afford him the best opportunity. Life
was over! There was nothing to look forward to; nothing to look back at!
The present was a living pain whose lightest element was despair. As,
however, he got further and further away, his practical mind began to
work; he thought over matters so as to arrange in his mind how best he
could dispose of his affairs, so to cause as little comment as might be,
and to save the possibility of worry or distress of any kind to Stephen.

Even then, in his agony of mind, his heart was with her; it was not the
least among his troubles that he would have to be