ed like it, as Robert knew very well.
They talked for a few minutes, and then the train loomed in the
distance.

'He saved you,' said Robert, holding out his hand, 'and at a dark moment
in my own life I owed him everything. There is nothing we can do for him
in return but--to remember him! Write to me, if you can or will, from
New Zealand, for his sake.'

A few seconds later the train sped past the bare little cemetery, which
lay just beyond the line. Robert bent forward. In the pale yellow glow
of the evening he could distinguish the grave, the mound of gravel, the
planks, and some figures moving beside it. He strained his eyes till he
could see no more, his heart full of veneration, of memory, of prayer.
In himself life seemed so restless and combative. Surely he, more than
others, had need of the lofty lessons of death!

CHAPTER XLV.

In the weeks which followed--weeks often of mental and physical
depression, caused by his sense of personal loss and by the influence of
an overworked state he could not be got to admit--Elsmere owed much to
Hugh Flaxman's cheery sympathetic temper, and became more attached to
him than ever, and more ready than ever, should the fates deem it so,
to welcome him as a brother-in-law. However, the fates for the moment
seemed to have borrowed a leaf from Langham's book, and did not
apparently know their own minds. It says volumes for Hugh Flaxman's
general capacities as a human being that at this period he should have
had any attention to give to a friend, his position as a lover was so
dubious and difficult.

After the evening at the Workmen's Club, and as a result of further
meditation, he had greatly developed the tactics first adopted on
that occasion. He had beaten a masterly retreat, and Rose Leyburn was
troubled with him no more.

The result was that a certain brilliant young person was soon sharply
conscious of a sudden drop in the pleasure of living. Mr. Flaxman had
been the Leyburns' most constant and entertaining visitor. During the
whole of May he paid one formal call in Lerwick Gardens, and was then
entertained tete-a-tete by Mrs. Leyburn, to Rose's intense subsequent
annoyance, who know perfectly well that her mother was incapable of
chattering about anything but her daughters.

He still sent flowers, but they came from his head gardener, addressed
to Mrs. Leyburn. Agnes put them in water, and Rose never gave them a
look. Rose went to Lady Helen's because Lady Hele