into
the sunshine! With Wentworth it had been so. The pure air of the
moorland, the scent of the heather and the sea seem indissolubly mingled
with the remembrance of those whom we have loved. For did we not in
their company walk abroad into a new world, breathe a new air, while
Self, the dingy turnkey, for once slept at his post?

One of the reasons of his devotion to Michael was that Michael's
character did not apparently or perceptibly alter. He was very much the
same person in his striped convict's blouse as he had been in his Eton
jacket. But it is doubtful whether Wentworth had ever realised of what
materials that character consisted. Wentworth was of those who never get
the best out of men and women, who never divine and meet, but only come
into surprised uncomfortable contact with their deeper emotions.
Michael's passion of service for Fay would have been a great shock to
Wentworth had he suspected it. It remained for the duke to perceive the
latent power in Michael, and to be taken instantly into his confidence
on the matter, while Wentworth, unwitting, had remained for life outside
his brother's mind.

Some men and women are half conscious that they are thus left out, are
companions only of "the outer court" of the lives of others. But
Wentworth never suspected this, partly because he regarded as friendship
a degree of intimacy which most men and all women regard as
acquaintanceship. He did not know there was anything more. Those from
whom others need much, learn perforce, whether they will or no, to what
heights, to what depths human nature can climb and--fall. But Wentworth
was not a person on whom others made large demands. But if his love for
Michael had been his one tangible happiness, it had become now his one
real pain.

Contrary to all his habits, he sat on, hour after hour, motionless,
inert, watching the cloud shadows pass across the down. He tried to
rouse himself. He told himself that he must settle back into his old
occupations. He must get forward with his history of Sussex, and write
up his diary. He must come to some decision about the allotment scheme
on his property in Saundersfoot. He must go over and help Colonel
Bellairs not to make a fool of himself about the disputed right of way
across his property where it joined Wentworth's own land. Colonel
Bellairs always bungled into business matters of the simplest nature as
a bumble bee bungles into a spider's web. For Colonel Bellairs to touc