one can be
good or worth anything unless they judge for themselves and take risks."

Pierson went close to her; his face was quivering.

"Don't let us differ on this last night; I must go up to Nollie for a
minute, and then to bed. I shan't see you to-morrow; you mustn't get up;
I can bear parting better like this. And my train goes at eight. God
bless you, Gracie; give George my love. I know, I have always known that
he's a good man, though we do fight so. Good-bye, my darling."

He went out with his cheeks wet from Gratian's tears, and stood in the
porch a minute to recover his composure. The shadow of the house
stretched velvet and blunt over the rock-garden. A night-jar was
spinning; the churring sound affected him oddly. The last English
night-bird he would hear. England! What a night-to say good-bye! 'My
country!' he thought; 'my beautiful country!' The dew was lying thick and
silvery already on the little patch of grass-the last dew, the last scent
of an English night. The call of a bugle floated out. "England!" he
prayed; "God be about you!" A little sound answered from across the
grass, like an old man's cough, and the scrape and rattle of a chain. A
face emerged at the edge of the house's shadow; bearded and horned like
that of Pan, it seemed to stare at him. And he saw the dim grey form of
the garden goat, heard it scuttle round the stake to which it was
tethered, as though alarmed at this visitor to its' domain.

He went up the half-flight of stairs to Noel's narrow little room, next
the nursery. No voice answered his tap. It was dark, but he could see
her at the window, leaning far out, with her chin on her hands.

"Nollie!"

She answered without turning: "Such a lovely night, Daddy. Come and
look! I'd like to set the goat free, only he'd eat the rock plants. But
it is his night, isn't it? He ought to be running and skipping in it:
it's such a shame to tie things up. Did you never, feel wild in your
heart, Daddy?"

"Always, I think, Nollie; too wild. It's been hard to tame oneself."

Noel slipped her hand through his arm. "Let's go and take the goat and
skip together on the hills. If only we had a penny whistle! Did you
hear the bugle? The bugle and the goat!"

Pierson pressed the hand against him.

"Nollie, be good while I'm away. You know what I don't want. I told you
in my letter." He looked at her cheek, and dared say no more. Her face
had its "fey" look again.