athering
hemlock.

Erskine raced down the hill at full speed, and did not look behind him
again until he found himself at nightfall on the skirts of a town,
where he purchased some beer and a sandwich, which he ate with little
appetite. Gertrude had set up a disturbance within him which made him
impatient of eating.

It was now dark. He was many miles from Brandon Beeches, and not sure
of the way back. Suddenly he resolved to complete his unfinished
declaration that evening. He now could not ride back fast enough to
satisfy his impatience. He tried a short cut, lost himself, spent nearly
an hour seeking the highroad, and at last came upon a railway station
just in time to catch a train that brought him within a mile of his
destination.

When he rose from the cushions of the railway carriage he found
himself somewhat fatigued, and he mounted the bicycle stiffly. But his
resolution was as ardent as ever, and his heart beat strongly as, after
leaving his bicycle at the lodge, he walked up the avenue through the
deep gloom beneath the beeches. Near the house, the first notes of
"Grudel perche finora" reached him, and he stepped softly on to the turf
lest his footsteps on the gravel should rouse the dogs and make them
mar the harmony by barking. A rustle made him stop and listen. Then
Gertrude's voice whispered through the darkness:

"What did you mean by what you said to me within?"

An extraordinary sensation shook Erskine; confused ideas of fairyland
ran through his imagination. A bitter disappointment, like that of
waking from a happy dream, followed as Trefusis's voice, more finely
tuned than he had ever heard it before, answered,

"Merely that the expanse of stars above us is not more illimitable than
my contempt for Miss Lindsay, nor brighter than my hopes of Gertrude."

"Miss Lindsay always to you, if you please, Mr. Trefusis."

"Miss Lindsay never to me, but only to those who cannot see through
her to the soul within, which is Gertrude. There are a thousand Miss
Lindsays in the world, formal and false. There is but one Gertrude."

"I am an unprotected girl, Mr. Trefusis, and you can call me what you
please."

It occurred to Erskine that this was a fit occasion to rush forward and
give Trefusis, whose figure he could now dimly discern, a black eye. But
he hesitated, and the opportunity passed.

"Unprotected!" said Trefusis. "Why, you are fenced round and barred in
with conventions, laws, and lies that w