e suffered as he had
hardly suffered before.

With his face buried in his arms he lay very still upon the rock. He lay
in shadow, but the sunlight was on the treetops above him. The wood
robin yet uttered its bell-like note, the moist wind brought down the
bank the fragrance of the fringe tree to blend with the deeper odour of
the pine and hemlock. Rand lay without moving, the fingers of one
outstretched hand clenched upon the edges of the rock. "A thousand years
in Thy sight--and my day is as a thousand years. Oh, my God!"

The minutes passed, deep and grave, slow and full, with the sense of
afternoon, of solemn and trackless woods, unbreathed air, silence and
high heaven, then the April wind swept up the gorge and brought the
sound of water. Rand sat up, resting his head upon his hands, and stared
down the shadowy steep. There were flowers growing close to him, violets
and anemones, and on a ledge of rock above, the maiden-hair fern. His
eyes falling upon them, they brought to his mind, suddenly and sadly
enough, Deb and her flower ladies, all in a ring beneath the
cedars--Faith and Hope and Charity, Ruth and Esther and the Shulamite.

The recollection of that morning was followed by a thought of the night
before--of the Fontenoy drawing-room and of all who had been gathered
there. He saw the place again, and he saw every figure within it--the
two Churchills, the two Carys, Unity, Jacqueline. "There is not one," he
thought, "to whom I've worked no harm. All that I have touched, I have
withered."

The wind again rushed up the gorge, a great stir of air that swayed the
trees, and filled the ravine with a sound like the sea. Rand listened
dully, staring down the steeps of pine and hemlock, giant trees that had
dwelt there long. A desolation came upon him. The air appeared to darken
and grow cold, the wind passed, and the gorge lay very still. Rand bowed
himself together, and at last, with a dull and heavy throb, his heart
spoke. "What shall I do," it asked, "O God?"

The Absolute within him made answer. "The simple right."

The wind returned, and the trees of the forest shook to the blast. The
simple right! Where was the simple right in so complex a wrong? Step
forward, backward, to either side--harm and misery every way! And pride,
and ambition, and love, and human company--to close the door, to close
the door on all! "No," said Rand, and set his teeth. "No, no!"

The afternoon deepened in the gorge of the Blue R