along and he
himself a blind, self-deluding fool.

The Major bowed his head, loathing his fatuous blindness and burning
with self-contempt. Slowly those twitching fingers became a quivering
fist as wonder and shame gave place to anger that blazed to a fury of
passion, casting out gentle Reason and blinding calm judgment. Truly
his doubts and fears were resolved for him at last--she was off and
away with Dalroyd! So she had tricked--fooled--deceived from the very
first!

The big fist smote down upon the stile and, spattering blood from
broken knuckles, the Major leapt over and hasted wildly from the
accursed place; and as he strode there burned within him an anger such
as he had never known--fierce, unreasoning, merciless, all-consuming.
Headlong he went, heedless of direction until at last, finding himself
blundering among underbrush and trees, he stopped to glance about him.
And now, moved by sudden impulse, he plunged fierce hand into bosom and
plucked forth her letter, that close-written sheet he had cherished so
reverently, and, holding it in griping fingers, smiled grimly to see it
all blood-smeared from his torn knuckles; then he ripped it almost as
though it had been a sentient thing, tore it across and across, and
scattering the fragments broadcast, tramped on again. Thus in his
going he came to the rustic bridge above the sleepy pool and paused
there awhile to stare down into the stilly waters upon whose placid
surface the moon seemed to float in glory.

And she had once stood beside him here and plied him with her woman's
arts, tender sighs and pretty coquetry--and anon proud scorn as when he
had vowed her unmaidenly and he, poor fool, had loved and worshipped
her the while. And now? Now she was away with--Dalroyd of all men in
the world, Dalroyd who, wiser in woman, loved many but worshipped never
a one.

Borne to his ears on the quiet night air came the faint sound of the
church clock chiming ten. The Major shivered forlornly and turning,
tramped wearily homeward.

Sergeant Zebedee, opening to his knock, glanced at him keen-eyed, quick
to notice lack-lustre eye, furrowed brow and down-trending mouth.

"Sir," he enquired anxiously, "your honour, is aught amiss?"

"Nought, Zeb," answered the Major heavily, "nought i' the world. Why?"

"Why sir, you do look uncommon--woeful."

"'Tis like enough, Zeb, like enough, for to-night I have--beheld
myself. And I find, Zeb, yes, I find myself a piti