many things in my conduct which
would have been otherwise unpardonable, even in your friendly eyes."

"My dear fellow," interposed Allan, "you don't mean to say you are going
out on a walking tour in this pouring rain!"

"Never mind the rain," rejoined Midwinter. "The rain and I are old
friends. You know something, Allan, of the life I led before you met
with me. From the time when I was a child, I have been used to hardship
and exposure. Night and day, sometimes for months together, I never
had my head under a roof. For years and years, the life of a wild
animal--perhaps I ought to say, the life of a savage--was the life
I led, while you were at home and happy. I have the leaven of the
vagabond--the vagabond animal, or the vagabond man, I hardly know
which--in me still. Does it distress you to hear me talk of myself in
this way? I won't distress you. I will only say that the comfort and the
luxury of our life here are, at times, I think, a little too much for a
man to whom comforts and luxuries come as strange things. I want nothing
to put me right again but more air and exercise; fewer good breakfasts
and dinners, my dear friend, than I get here. Let me go back to some
of the hardships which this comfortable house is expressly made to shut
out. Let me meet the wind and weather as I used to meet them when I was
a boy; let me feel weary again for a little while, without a carriage
near to pick me up; and hungry when the night falls, with miles of
walking between my supper and me. Give me a week or two away, Allan--up
northward, on foot, to the Yorkshire moors--and I promise to return to
Thorpe Ambrose, better company for you and for your friends. I shall be
back before you have time to miss me. Mr. Bashwood will take care of the
business in the office; it is only for a fortnight, and it is for my own
good--let me go!"

"I don't like it," said Allan. "I don't like your leaving me in this
sudden manner. There's something so strange and dreary about it. Why not
try riding, if you want more exercise; all the horses in the stables are
at your disposal. At all events, you can't possibly go to-day. Look at
the rain!"

Midwinter looked toward the window, and gently shook his head.

"I thought nothing of the rain," he said, "when I was a mere child,
getting my living with the dancing dogs--why should I think anything of
it now? _My_ getting wet, and _your_ getting wet, Allan, are two very
different things. When I was a fis