ys try to inspire the weak to help them get it. With great
leadership you must have equivalent rewards."

"Why? Cannot you imagine men big enough to work for humanity without
reward? Have there not been plenty of such men--before Christ, as well
as since?"

"Power is reward," he answered. "No man is so great that he is
indifferent to power, for his greatness depends upon it; and if power
was dissipated to-morrow and diluted until none could call himself a
leader, we should have a reaction at once and the sheep would grow
frightened and bleat for a shepherd. And the shepherd would very soon
appear."

They stood where the cliffs broke and Bride ended her journey at the
sea. She came gently without any splendid nuptials to the lover of
rivers. Her brief course run, her last silver loop wound through the
meadows, she ended in a placid pool amid the sand ridges above
high-water mark. The yellow cliffs climbed up again on either side, and
near the chalice in the grey beach whence, invisible, the river sank
away to win the sea by stealth, spread Estelle's sea garden--an expanse
of stone and sand enriched by many flowers that seemed to crown the
river pool with a garland, or weave a wreath for Bride's grave in the
sand. Here were pale gold of poppies, red gold of lotus and rich lichens
that made the sea-worn pebbles shine. Sea thistle spread glaucous
foliage and lifted its blue blossoms; stone-crops and thrifts, tiny
trefoils and couch grasses were woven into the sand, and pink
storks-bill and silvery convolvulus brought cool colour to this harmony
spread beside the purple sea. The day was one of shadow and sunshine
mingled, and from time to time, through passages of grey that lowered
the glory of Estelle's sea garden, a sunburst came to set all
glittering once more, to flash upon the river, lighten the masses of
distant elm, and throw up the red roofs and grey church tower of
Bridetown and her encircling hills.

"What a jolly place it is," he said taking out his cigar case.

Then they sat in the shadow of a fishing boat, drawn up here, and
Raymond lamented the unlovely end of the river.

While he did so, the girl regarded him with affection and a secret
interest and entertainment. For it amused her often to hear him echo
thoughts that had come to her in the past. In a lesser degree her father
did the like; but he belonged to a still older generation, and it was
with Raymond that she found herself chiefly concerned, when