f keenly
appreciating the manner in which his old friend had come forward to
stand by him, combining as it did a rare delicacy with the maximum of
effectiveness. But this last invitation he could not but decline. To
delay his departure even for an hour could serve no good purpose, and he
shrank from laying bare so much as a corner of his heart, even to the
sweet-natured old Irishman.

The latter, quick to read thoughts, saw through his motive, and did not
press him.

"Well, if you've got to go I won't be detaining you. Good-bye, Mr
Musgrave," shaking his hand heartily. "We don't profess the same creed;
but it'll do ye no harm to know that wherever you go, and wherever you
are, there's an old man's blessing following you. Good-bye now!"

Such was the end. And as the great spur of the mountain, glowing green
and gold in the afternoon sunlight, shut out the last of Doppersdorp
behind him for ever, Roden Musgrave was conscious of a feeling of
starting forth once more into the world, destitute and alone. Since the
day which witnessed his entry into that sordid little township, he had
gained that which he had never thought to win again--a restored faith in
that marvellous mystery, which, while it lasts, avails to make a very
paradise of the heart in which it takes up its most inexplicable abode.
Was it a gain? Well, he had lost it now. Never, never could it be
restored. Had he done wrong in refusing to speak that word which should
exculpate himself? No. Whatever others might think, however
circumstances might point most conclusively to the truth, Mona ought to
have stood firm. Not for a moment could he admit that he ought to have
conceded. Rightly or wrongly that one falling away was enough. Even
had he yielded, that would have stood between them for ever.

Now he began to feel strangely aged as he went forth once more into that
most dreary of exiles to the man who is no longer young, and whose means
are too scanty even for his barest needs--to face the world afresh, that
is. In the braced-up strength, and freshness of mind, and elasticity of
spirits, of youth, such a prospect is not one to shrink from; on the
contrary, it is one which is welcomed with many a buoyant laugh. But
later, when strength is waning, and all things pall, and hopes and
illusions are laid to rest for ever, buried in a grave of corroding
corruption and bitter ashes;--ah! then it is a dark and craggy desert
prospect indeed. And as t