ution could relax.

On and on he swam; on and on. What an ecstacy it was to live!

CHAPTER VII.

Once more a vision of his life passed before him as a single flash,
and this time it drew from him a scornful anger.

Fool! Should he who rode abreast the ocean in absolute mastery not be
master of his own existence? Fool! The universe before had sung to him
of life, not of death; its essence had called to him not to take him
into itself, but to remind him that within him was some of its own
glorious fire that might yet make his life glorious. That, too, had
now leapt up, had burnt away all the vapours and purged his spirit;
that, too, sang and joined in the universal chant. He recognised its
clear melody, inspiring him to place faith in it and to be true to
himself.

Action must be the key to the redemption of his life; a flourishing,
masterful Will-To-Live the force behind it. He had made mistakes; it
was for him to convert them into a good, to make of them a solid
pedestal on which his manhood should stand firm.

Back to the shore again! Back to human beings and human love and human
duties!

And just then an odd thought intruded on him, grotesque yet touching;
one of those incongruous memories that invade one's solemnest moments.
He had a vision of a labourer in soiled corduroys leaving him half his
dinner at the wayside inn that morning.

He turned on his back to rest awhile, but he found he could not endure
the changed position. For the reality of the world was lost to him
again, and he had a sense of floating alone in the immensity of
strange, dark places; the cloud-stained sky seeming to rest on his
face. The night, too, had grown darker, and the throb of the
steam-vessel came to him now more faintly. He was conscious of being
left behind. A momentary fear invaded him.

And in that moment he seemed to see the shapes of those who loved him
imploring him with streaming eyes, now beckoning him, now holding
their arms to him.

He set his face landwards and thrust all uncertainty from him. He
could just distinguish the softly-gleaming cliffs, but he felt strong
and pure and stout-hearted. Back! Back! Back to land, to work, to
love! A rougher tide rolling in helped him. He knew the spot whence he
had started; it was just beyond the point where the cliff rose to its
highest. The sense of distance annihilated gave him new strength, and
at last he stood again amid the fallen boulders and shook the water
f