r Eliza's son to
jump over them, and they were laughing, enjoying their play,
inspired, no doubt, by the dusk and the mystery of yon great moon
rising out of the end of the grey valley.

"I'm afraid Jack will hurt the others, or tire them; they really must
go to bed. You'll excuse me, Owen, I shall be back with you in about
half an hour?"

He strolled through the wicket about the piece of waste ground,
thinking of the change that had come over her when he spoke of her
return from Rome. Possibly she had met Ulick in Rome and had fled
from him, or some other man. But he was not in the least curious to
inquire out her secret, sufficient it was for him to know that her
mood had passed. How suddenly it had passed! And how fortunate his
mention of the yacht! Her attention had suddenly been distracted, now
she was as charming as before... gone to look after those little
boys, to see that their beds were comfortable, and that their
night-shirts had buttons on them. Every day in London their living was
earned in tiresome lessons to pupils who had no gift for singing, but
had to be encouraged for the sake of their money, which was spent on
this hillside.

"Such is the mysterious way of life. Our rewards are never those we
anticipate, but we are rewarded."

The money he had spent on her had brought her to this hillside to
attend on six cripples, destitute little boys. After all what better
reward could he have hoped for? But a great part of his love of her
had been lost. Never again would he take her hand or kiss her again.
So his heart filled with a natural sadness and a great tenderness,
and he stood watching the smoke rising from the cottagers' chimneys
straight into the evening air. She had told him that one of her
little boys had come from that village, and to hear how the child had
been adopted he must scramble down this rough path. The moment was
propitious for a chat with the cottagers, whom he would find sitting
at their doors, the men smoking their pipes, the women knitting or
gossiping, "the characteristic end of every day since the beginning
of the world," he said, "and it will be pleasant to read her portrait
in these humble minds."

"A fine evening, my man?"

"Fine enough, sir; the wheat rick will be up before the Goodwood
races, the first time for the last thirty years." And the talk turned
on the price of corn and on the coming harvest, and then on Miss
Innes, who sometimes came down to see them and sang s