sibility, Christopher set down that to imagination, or to the
brushing of the wind over the trees.

The lighted windows went out one by one, and all the house was in
darkness. Julian then walked off himself, with a vigour that was
spasmodic only, and with much less brightness of mind than he had
experienced on his journey hither. The stranger had gone another way,
and Christopher saw no more of him. When he reached Sandbourne, Faith
was still sitting up.

'But I told you I was going to take a long walk,' he said.

'No, Christopher: really you did not. How tired and sad you do
look--though I always know beforehand when you are in that state: one of
your feet has a drag about it as you pass along the pavement outside the
window.'

'Yes, I forgot that I did not tell you.'

He could not begin to describe his pilgrimage: it was too silly a thing
even for her to hear of.

'It does not matter at all about my staying up,' said Faith assuringly;
'that is, if exercise benefits you. Walking up and down the lane, I
suppose?'

'No; not walking up and down the lane.'

'The turnpike-road to Rookington is pleasant.'

'Faith, that is really where I have been. How came you to know?'

'I only guessed. Verses and an accidental meeting produce a special
journey.'

'Ethelberta is a fine woman, physically and mentally, both. I wonder
people do not talk about her twice as much as they do.'

'Then surely you are getting attached to her again. You think you
discover in her more than anybody else does; and love begins with a sense
of superior discernment.'

'No, no. That is only nonsense,' he said hurriedly. 'However, love her
or love her not, I can keep a corner of my heart for you, Faith. There
is another brute after her too, it seems.'

'Of course there is: I expect there are many. Her position in society is
above ours, so that it is an unwise course to go troubling yourself more
about her.'

'No. If a needy man must be so foolish as to fall in love, it is best to
do so where he cannot double his foolishness by marrying the woman.'

'I don't like to hear you talk so slightingly of what poor father did.'

Christopher fixed his attention on the supper. That night, late as it
was, when Faith was in bed and sleeping, he sat before a sheet of music-
paper, neatly copying his composition upon it. The manuscript was
intended as an offering to Ethelberta at the first convenient
opportunity.

* * * * *

'Well,