nd wider at this culminating
exhibition.

"But Mr. Brumley!" she had cried at last. "Mr. Brumley!"

He did not seem to hear her. And now he was running and stumbling along
very fast through the trees, so that in a few minutes he would be out of
sight. Dismay came with the thought that he might presently go out of
sight altogether.

For a moment she seemed to hesitate. Then with a swift decision and a
firm large grasp of the hand, she gathered up her black skirts and set
off after him along the narrow path. She ran. She ran lightly, with a
soft rhythmic fluttering of white and black. The long crepe bands she
wore in Sir Isaac's honour streamed out behind her.

"But Mr. Brumley," she panted unheard. "Mister Brumley!"

He went from her fast, faster than she could follow, amidst the
sun-dappled pine stems, and as he went he made noises between bellowing
and soliloquy, heedless of any pursuit. All she could hear was a
heart-wringing but inexpressive "Wa, wa, wooh, wa, woo," that burst from
him ever and again. Through a more open space among the trees she
fancied she was gaining upon him, and then as the pines came together
again and were mingled with young spruces, she perceived that he drew
away from her more and more. And he went round a curve and was hidden,
and then visible again much further off, and then hidden----.

She attempted one last cry to him, but her breath failed her, and she
dropped her pace to a panting walk.

Surely he would not go thus into the high road! It was unendurable to
think of him rushing out into the high road--blind with sorrow--it might
be into the very bonnet of a passing automobile.

She passed beyond the pines and scanned the path ahead as far as the
stile. Then she saw him, lying where he had flung himself, face downward
among the bluebells.

"Oh!" she whispered to herself, and put one hand to her heart and drew
nearer.

She was flooded now with that passion of responsibility, with that wild
irrational charity which pours out of the secret depths of a woman's
stirred being.

She came up to him so lightly as to be noiseless. He did not move, and
for a moment she remained looking at him.

Then she said once more, and very gently--

"Mr. Brumley."

He started, listened for a second, turned over, sat up and stared at
her. His face was flushed and his hair extremely ruffled. And a slight
moisture recalled his weeping.

"Mr. Brumley," she repeated, and suddenly there were tea