r shower had just begun as he reached the house. He could not sit
still; the bare floor of the large room met his needs.

His mind's eye pictured a face which a few months ago had power to lead
him whither it willed, which had in fact led him through strange scenes,
as far from the beaten road of a college curriculum as well could be. It
was a face of foreign type, Jewish possibly, most unlike that ideal of
womanly charm kept in view by one who seeks peace and the heart's home.
Hubert had entertained no thought of either. The romance which most
young men are content to enjoy in printed pages he had acted out in
his life. He had lived through a glorious madness, as unlike the vulgar
oat-sowing of the average young man of wealth as the latest valse on a
street-organ is unlike a passionate dream of Chopin. However unworthy
the object of his frenzy--and perhaps one were as worthy as another--the
pursuit had borne him through an atmosphere of fire, tempering him
for life, marking him for ever from plodders of the dusty highway. A
reckless passion is a patent of nobility. Whatever existence had in
store for him henceforth, Hubert could feel that he had lived.

An hour's communing with memory was brought to an end by the ringing
of the luncheon-bell. Since his illness Hubert had taken meals with his
mother in her own sitting-room. Thither he now repaired.

Mrs. Eldon had grown older in appearance since that evening of her son's
return. Of course she had discovered the cause of his illness, and the
incessant torment of a great fear had been added to what she suffered
from the estrangement between the boy and herself. Her own bodily
weakness had not permitted her to nurse him; she had passed days and
nights in anguish of expectancy. At one time it had been life or death.
If he died, what life would be hers through the brief delay to which she
could look forward?

Once more she had him by her side, but the moral distance between them
was nothing lessened. Mrs. Eldon's pride would not allow her to
resume the conversation which had ended so hopelessly for her, and she
interpreted Hubert's silence in the saddest sense. Now they were about
to be parted again. A house had been taken for her at Agworth, three
miles away; in her state of health she could not quit the neighbourhood
of the few old friends whom she still saw. But Hubert would necessarily
go into the world to seek some kind of career. No hope shone for her in
the prospec