of evening, a soul that walks with
gathering shadows, speaks in the distant hum of a city, and gazes
through its twinkling lights. _There is a grey traveller who journeys in
the twilight._ (What am I saying? To-day, as I write, I am full of
fancies.) I felt that, so soon as Kate and I were away from the hotel,
out under the sky and amid the mysteries of Edinburgh, we were changed.
In a flash our intimacy advanced, the sympathy already existing between
us deepened. Leaving the streets, we mounted the flight of steps that
leads to the hill, and joined the few couples who were walking, almost
like gods on some Olympus, above the world. They were all obviously
lovers. I pointed this fact out to Kate, saying, "Hugh Fraser should be
here, not I."

She smiled, but scarcely, I thought, with much regret. For the moment it
seemed that a confidant satisfied her; and this pleased me. I drew her
arm within mine.

"We must not alarm the lovers," I said. "We must appear to be as they
are, or we shall carry a fiery sword into their Eden."

"You seem to understand us very well," she answered with a smile. And
she left her arm in mine.

The mention of "us" chilled me. It seemed to set me outside a magic
circle within which she, Hugh Fraser, these people sauntering near us,
like amorous ghosts in the dimness, moved. I pressed her arm ever so
gently.

"Tell me how lovers feel at such a time as this," I whispered, looking
into her eyes.

* * * * *

From Carlton Hill at night one sees a heaving ocean of yellow lights,
gleaming like phosphorescence on ebon waves. Towards Arthur's Seat,
towards the Castle, they rise; by Holyrood, by the old town, they fall.
That night I could fancy that this sea of light spoke to me, murmured in
my ear, urging me to prosecute my will, ruthlessly stirring a strange
and, perhaps, evanescent romance in my heart. I know that when I parted
from Kate that night I bent and kissed her. I know that she looked up at
me startled, even terrified, yet found no voice to rebuke me. I know
that I did not leave Edinburgh, as I had originally intended, upon the
morrow. And I know this best of all--that I had no ill-intent in
staying. I was caught in a net of impulse despite my own desire. I was
held fast. There are--I believe it unalterably now--influences in life
that are the very Tsars of the empires of men's souls. They must be
obeyed. Possibly--is it so I wonder?--they only mount upon