competence in such a case? "A brilliant
future mapped out for her." Even now, under his changed fortunes, such
was not within his reach to offer her. John Ames was a proud man and a
sensitive one. Could it be that his ideal had stopped down from her
pedestal? Then, by a comic twist of thought, came back that
conversation down by the blue sea at Camp's Bay. This pedestal to let!
Yes, it was comical.

But again, by another twist of thought, came back that day in all its
idyllic aspects; in all the golden glow of love and faith, and vague,
indefinable hope. Came back also that parting in the solitudes of a
grim wilderness, that pressure of the hands, that last long look into
the eyes. Surely there was truth; there, far from artificial
restraints, was the soul laid bare. John Ames became sane again.

Yet it was in no great exaltation of mind that he wended his way, a
couple of days later, to the dwelling occupied by Mrs Bateman. He had
declared he would enter it no more, but now, under the circumstances, he
would do so once. He would be firm and decided, too, in the attainment
of his object, and that was to see Nidia alone. He would take no
denial.

This time, however, he was spared the necessity of further conflict.
Nidia was there to welcome him, and she was alone. She looked at him
searchingly, and her eyes were grave.

"What is the matter?" she said. "You are looking careworn and anxious.
Why?"

"Am I? Oh, it's nothing. Some active service will soon send that
away."

"Active service?"

"Yes. I'm going to volunteer."

"Haven't you had enough of that yet?"

"I haven't had any. My active service up till now has been strictly
confined to running away, and uncommonly `active' service it has been,
let me assure you."

"Running away?" she repeated. "Yes; it is the sort of running away that
one has a particular admiration for. Running away on foot, for
instance, with about a thousand savages a hundred yards behind, so that
a wounded comrade may ride away on one's horse."

He flushed. That wretched Shackleton had been firing off that stale
yarn here too. Of course, it would look as though he himself had
inspired it.

"Don't look annoyed," said Nidia, softly; "because I haven't half done.
`Running away,' too, in order to take care of a certain helpless
fugitive belonging to the helpless sex, who would otherwise certainly
have been murdered, or certainly have come to some miserable end a doz