that in that future lies the answer to the
puzzles of the world, and turn your eyes to it, as to the horizon
beyond which you will find me waiting for you, and not only me, but
all that you have ever loved. Only, dear, try to be a good man and
love me always."

He looked at her in wonder.

"Angela," he said, "what has made you so different from other women?
With all whom I have known, love is an affair of passion or amusement,
of the world and the day, but yours gazes towards Heaven, and looks to
find its real utterance in the stillness of Eternity! To be loved by
you, my dear, would be worth a century of sorrows."

At last the moment came, as all moments good and bad must come. To
Pigott, who was crying, he gave a hug and a five-pound note, to Aleck,
a pat on the head, to Philip, who could not look him in the face, a
shake of the hand, and to Angela, who bravely smiled into his eyes--a
long last kiss.

But, when the cruel wheels began to crunch upon the gravel, the great
tears welling to her eyes blotted him from sight. Blindly she made her
way up to her room, and throwing herself upon the bed let her
unrestrained sorrow loose, feeling that she was indeed desolate and
alone.

CHAPTER XXXI

When Angela was still quite a child, the permanent inhabitants of
Sherborne Lane, King William Street, in the city of London, used to
note a very pretty girl, of small statue and modest ways, passing out
--every evening after the city gentlemen had locked up their offices
and gone home--from the quiet of the lane into the roar and rush of
the city. This young girl was Mildred James, the only daughter of a
struggling, a very struggling, city doctor, and her daily mission was
to go to the cheap markets, and buy the provisions that were to last
the Sherborne Lane household (for her father lived in the same rooms
that he practised in) for the ensuing twenty-four hours. The world was
a hard place for poor Mildred in those days of provision hunting, when
so little money had to pay for so many necessaries, and to provide
also for the luxuries that were necessaries to her invalid mother.
Some years later, when she was a sweet maiden of eighteen, her mother
died, but medical competition was keen in Sherborne Lane, and her
removal did not greatly alleviate the pressure of poverty. At last,
one evening, when she was about twenty years of age, a certain Mr.
Carr, an old gentleman with whom her father had