conclusion that Mr. Arthur Rangely was a more astute
person than--to a casual observer he would seem.

He showed no inclination to fix the limits of his walk, and made
no protest as she drove under the stone archway at the entrance of
Fairview. Victoria was amused and interested, and she decided that she
liked Mr. Rangely.

"Will you come up for tea?" she asked. "I'll send you home."

He accepted with alacrity. They had reached the first turn when their
attention was caught by the sight of a buggy ahead of them, and facing
towards them. The horse, with the reins hanging loosely over the shafts,
had strayed to the side of the driveway and was contentedly eating the
shrubbery that lined it. Inside the vehicle, hunched up in the corner
of the seat, was a man who presented an appearance of helplessness which
struck them both with a sobering effect.

"Is the fellow drunk?" said Mr. Rangely.

Victoria's answer was a little cry which startled him, and drew his
look to her. She had touched her horse with the whip, and her eyes had
widened in real alarm.

"It's Hilary Vane!" she exclaimed. "I--I wonder what can have happened!"

She handed the reins to Mr. Rangely, and sprang out and flew to Hilary's
side.

"Mr. Vane!" she cried. "What's the matter? Are you ill?"

She had never seen him look so. To her he had always been as one on whom
pity would be wasted, as one who long ago had established his credit
with the universe to his own satisfaction. But now, suddenly, intense
pity welled up within her, and even in that moment she wondered if it
could be because he was Austen's father. His hands were at his sides,
his head was fallen forward a little, and his face was white. But his
eyes frightened her most; instead of the old, semi-defiant expression
which she remembered from childhood, they had in them a dumb suffering
that went to her heart. He looked at her, tried to straighten up, and
fell back again.

"N--nothing's the matter," he said, "nothing. A little spell. I'll be
all right in a moment."

Victoria did not lose an instant, but climbed into the buggy at his side
and gathered up the reins, and drew the fallen lap-robe over his knees.

"I'm going to take you back to Fairview," she said. "And we'll telephone
for a doctor."

But she had underrated the amount of will left in him. He did not move,
though indeed if he had seized the reins from her hands, he could have
given her no greater effect of surprise. Life c