w he distressed
Mr. Dorriforth by his unreasonableness touching the railroad." She
smiled and went on lightly, "He said that you were a false friend to
him--a traitor!"

And then Catherine Nagle stopped and caught her breath. God! Why had she
said that? But Mottram had evidently not caught the sinister word, and
Catherine in haste drove back conscience into the lair whence conscience
had leapt so suddenly to her side.

"Maybe I ought, in this matter of the railroad," he said musingly, "to
have humoured Charles. I am now sorry I did not do so. After all,
Charles may be right--and all we others wrong. The railroad may not
bring us lasting good!"

Catherine looked at him surprised. James Mottram had always been so sure
of himself in this matter; but now there was dejection, weariness in his
voice; and he was walking quickly, more quickly up the steep incline
than Mrs. Nagle found agreeable. But she also hastened her steps,
telling herself, with wondering pain, that he was evidently in no mood
for her company.

"Mr. Dorriforth has already been here two days," she observed
irrelevantly.

"Aye, I know that. It was to see him I came to-day; and I will ask you
to spare him to me for two or three hours. Indeed, I propose that he
should walk back with me to the Eype. I wish him to witness my new will.
And then I may as well go to confession, for it is well to be shriven
before a journey, though for my part I feel ever safer on sea than
land!"

Mottram looked straight before him as he spoke.

"A journey?" Catherine repeated the words in a low, questioning tone.
There had come across her heart a feeling of such anguish that it was as
though her body instead of her soul were being wrenched asunder. In her
extremity she called on pride--and pride, ever woman's most loyal
friend, flew to her aid.

"Yes," he repeated, still staring straight in front of him, "I leave
to-morrow for Plymouth. I have had letters from my agent in Jamaica
which make it desirable that I should return there without delay." He
dug his stick into the soft earth as he spoke.

James Mottram was absorbed in himself, in his own desire to carry
himself well in his fierce determination to avoid betraying what he
believed to be his secret. But Catherine Nagle knew nothing of this.
She almost thought him indifferent.

They had come to a steep part of the incline, and Catherine suddenly
quickened her steps and passed him, so making it impossible that he
co