know of his share in finding her a home such as it was; and what he could
not do for himself, Downe had now kindly done for him. He returned to
his desolate house with a lighter tread; though in reason he hardly knew
why his tread should be light.

On examining the drawing, Barnet found that, instead of the vast altar-
tomb and canopy Downe had determined on at their last meeting, it was to
be a more modest memorial even than had been suggested by the architect;
a coped tomb of good solid construction, with no useless elaboration at
all. Barnet was truly glad to see that Downe had come to reason of his
own accord; and he returned the drawing with a note of approval.

He followed up the house-work as before, and as he walked up and down the
rooms, occasionally gazing from the windows over the bulging green hills
and the quiet harbour that lay between them, he murmured words and
fragments of words, which, if listened to, would have revealed all the
secrets of his existence. Whatever his reason in going there, Lucy did
not call again: the walk to the shore seemed to be abandoned: he must
have thought it as well for both that it should be so, for he did not go
anywhere out of his accustomed ways to endeavour to discover her.

CHAPTER VIII

The winter and the spring had passed, and the house was complete. It was
a fine morning in the early part of June, and Barnet, though not in the
habit of rising early, had taken a long walk before breakfast; returning
by way of the new building. A sufficiently exciting cause of his
restlessness to-day might have been the intelligence which had reached
him the night before, that Lucy Savile was going to India after all, and
notwithstanding the representations of her friends that such a journey
was unadvisable in many ways for an unpractised girl, unless some more
definite advantage lay at the end of it than she could show to be the
case. Barnet's walk up the slope to the building betrayed that he was in
a dissatisfied mood. He hardly saw that the dewy time of day lent an
unusual freshness to the bushes and trees which had so recently put on
their summer habit of heavy leafage, and made his newly-laid lawn look as
well established as an old manorial meadow. The house had been so
adroitly placed between six tall elms which were growing on the site
beforehand, that they seemed like real ancestral trees; and the rooks,
young and old, cawed melodiously to their visitor.

The