ionally mild Indian summer of
that year, Stranleigh left Altonville alone in his motor, and turned
into a road that led northward, ultimately reaching the mountains to be
seen dimly in the autumn haze far to the north. It was a favourite drive
of his, for it led along the uplands within sight of a group of crystal
lakes with well-wooded banks on the opposite shore. The district was
practically untouched by commerce, save that here and there along the
valley stood substantial mills, originally built to take advantage of
the water power from the brawling river connecting the lakes. Some
of these factories had been abandoned, and were slowly becoming as
picturesque as an old European castle. Others were still in going order,
and doubtless the valley had once been prosperous, but lagging behind
an age of tremendous progress, had lost step, as it were, with the
procession. Lack of adequate railway connection with the outside world
was the alleged cause, but the conservatism of the mill-owners, who, in
an age of combination, had struggled on individually to uphold the
gospel of letting well alone, a campaign that resulted in their being
left alone, had probably more to do with bringing about adversity than
the absence of railways. Some of the mills had been purchased by the
Trusts, and closed up. One or two still struggled on, hopelessly
battling for individualism and independence, everyone but themselves
recognising that the result was a foregone conclusion.

Yet for a man who wished to rest, and desired, like the old-fashioned
millers, to be left alone, this countryside was indeed charming. The
summer visitors had all departed, missing the sublimest time of the
year. Stranleigh had the road to himself, and there was no annoying
speed limit to hamper the energy of his machine. Without any thought of
his disconsolate valet moping about an unnecessarily large and
well-furnished house, the selfish young man breathed the exhilarating
air, and revelled in his freedom.

He passed a young couple, evidently lovers, standing on a grassy knoll,
gazing across a blue lake at the wooded banks on the other side,
seemingly at a fine old colonial mansion which stood in an opening of
the woods, with well-kept grounds sloping down to the water's edge.

A man driving a car enjoys small opportunity for admiring scenery and
architecture, so Stranleigh paid little regard to the view, but caught a
fleeting glimpse of a beautiful girl, in whose e