, although during his years abroad
he had felt on many occasions that he was completely freed from his
early bondage, scenes, thoughts and longings would recur and remind him
that he was celebrating his liberty too soon. The licences that to most
men in their first youth are incidental and easily forgotten engraved
themselves upon Martin's reluctant soul because of that religious sense
that had been driven in upon him at the very hour of his birth. He
could not sin and forget. He sinned and was remorseful, was impatient
at his remorse, sinned again to rid himself of it and was more
remorseful still. The main impulse of his life at this time was his
self-distrust. He fancied that by returning home he might regain
confidence. He longed to rid himself of the conviction that he was "set
aside" by some fate or other, call it God or not as you please. He
thought that he hurt all those whom he loved when his only longing was
to do them good. He used suddenly to leave his friends because he
thought that he was doing them harm. It was as though he heard some
Power saying to him: "I marked you out for my own in the beginning and
you can't escape me. You may struggle as you like. Until you surrender
everything shall turn to dust in your hands." He came back to England
determined to assert his independence.

He gazed now at the placidity of Garrick Street with the intensity of
some challenging "Stand and Deliver!" All that the street had to give
for the moment was a bishop and an actor mounting the steps of the
Garrick Club, an old lady with a black bonnet and a milk-jug, a young
man in a hurry and a failure selling bootlaces. None of them could be
expected to offer reassurance to Martin--none of these noticed him--but
an intelligent observer, had such a stranger to Garrick Street been
present, might have found that gaze of interest. Martin's physical
solidity could not entirely veil the worried uncertain glance that
flashed for a moment and then, with a little reassuring sigh, was gone.

The door opened, a girl looked for a moment into the street, he passed
inside. Having stumbled up the dark stairs, pushed back their private
entrance, hung up his coat in the little hall, with a deliberate effort
he shook off the suspicions that had, during the last moments, troubled
him and prepared to meet his mother and sister.

Because he had a happy, easy and affectionate temperament absence
always gilded his friends with gifts and qualitie