s
novel which kept him going, and I began to wonder what would happen when
it was finished.

A month later, when I met him again at Bath, he had written the last
chapter of 'At Strife,' and we read it over the sitting-room fire on
Saturday evening. I was very much struck with the book; it seemed to
me a great advance on 'Lynwood's Heritage,' and the part which he had
written since that day at Ben Rhydding was full of an indescribable
power, as if the life of which he had been robbed had flowed into his
work. When he had done, he tied up the MS. in his usual prosaic fashion,
just as if it had been a bundle of clothes, and put it on a side table.

It was arranged that I should take it to Davison--the publisher of
'Lynwood's Heritage'--on Monday, and see what offer he would make for
it. Just at that time I felt so sorry for Derrick that if he had asked
me to hawk round fifty novels I would have done it.

Sunday morning proved wet and dismal; as a rule the Major, who was fond
of music, attended service at the Abbey, but the weather forced him now
to stay at home. I myself was at that time no church-goer, but Derrick
would, I verily believe, as soon have fasted a week as have given up
a Sunday morning service; and having no mind to be left to the Major's
company, and a sort of wish to be near my friend, I went with him. I
believe it is not correct to admire Bath Abbey, but for all that 'the
lantern of the west' has always seemed to me a grand place; as for
Derrick, he had a horror of a 'dim religious light,' and always stuck
up for his huge windows, and I believe he loved the Abbey with all his
heart. Indeed, taking it only from a sensuous point of view, I could
quite imagine what a relief he found his weekly attendance here; by
contrast with his home the place was Heaven itself.

As we walked back, I asked a question that had long been in my mind:
"Have you seen anything of Lawrence?"

"He saw us across London on our way from Ben Rhydding," said Derrick,
steadily. "Freda came with him, and my father was delighted with her."

I wondered how they had got through the meeting, but of course my
curiosity had to go unsatisfied. Of one thing I might be certain,
namely, that Derrick had gone through with it like a Trojan, that he
had smiled and congratulated in his quiet way, and had done the best to
efface himself and think only of Freda. But as everyone knows:

"Face joy's a costly mask to wear,
'Tis bought wit