of labour in a
strange land, so that she might share it with him. He had not tried to
shut his eyes as to the right and wrong of the matter. He had seen that
which he had desired to do as other men would see it, and he had still
spoken.

But Allison Bain did not love him. At least she did not love him well
enough to be willing to do what was wrong for his sake. And now it was
all past and gone forever.

What, then, was his duty and interest in the circumstances?

To forget her; to put her out of his thoughts and out of his heart; to
begin at the work which he had planned for himself before ever he had
seen her face; to hold to this work with might and main, so as to leave
himself no time and no room for the cherishing of hope or the rebelling
against despair, and he strengthened himself by recalling the many good
reasons he had seen for not yielding when the temptation first assailed
him.

He ought to be glad that she had refused to listen to him. She had been
wise for them both, and it was well. Yes, it was well. This momentary
madness would pass away, and he had his work before him.

And so to his work he determined to set himself. So many hours were to
be given to Mr Swinton and so many to his books. In these
circumstances there would be no leisure for dreams or for regrets, and
he would soon be master of himself again.

And he must lose no time. First he must go and see his mother. He hung
his head as he owned to himself how few of his thoughts had been given
to her of late.

All this while she had had many thoughts concerning him; and when, one
night, he came at last, wet and weary, through the darkness of a
November night, she welcomed him lovingly, and uttered no word of
reproach or even of surprise at his long silence, or at his seeming
forgetfulness of the plan which he had himself proposed. She was just
as usual, more glad to see him than she had words to tell, and full of
interest in all that he had to say.

And John flattered himself that he was "just as usual" also. He had
plenty to say at first, and was cheerful over it. Of his own accord he
told her about the travellers, as he called them; how he had seen them
at Robin's lodgings at night, and when they went away in the morning;
and of how content little Marjorie seemed to be in Allison Bain's care,
and how sure she was that she was coming home strong and well.

"You'll need to go and tell her mother about it to-morrow," said Mrs