as only exultant, not depressed. Now that he could
judge himself, now that his brain had begun to react once more, with
this vigour, this wealth of idea--surely all would be well.

Then for the first time he thought of the money which Phoebe had
saved. Abroad! Italy?--or France? To go as a wanderer and a student,
on pilgrimage to the sources of beauty and power. What was old, or
played out? Not Beauty!--not the mind within him--not his craftsman's
sense. He threw himself on the grass, face downwards, praying as he
had been wont to do in his youth, but in a far more mystical, more
inward way; not to a far-off God, invited to come down and change or
tamper with external circumstance; but to something within himself,
identified with himself, the power of beauty in him, the resurgent
forces of hope--and love.

At last, after a long time, as the summer twilight was waning,
there struck through his dream the thought of Phoebe--alone in the
cottage--waiting for him. He sprang up, and began to hurry down the
hill.

Phoebe was quite alone. The little servant who only came for the day
had gone back to the farm where she slept, and Carrie and Miss Anna
had long since departed on their visit.

Carrie had told her mother that 'father' had gone for a walk. And
strangely enough, though he was away two hours, and she knew him
still far from his usual strength, Phoebe was not anxious. But she
was mortally tired--as though of a sudden a long tension had been
loosened, a long effort relaxed.

So she had gone upstairs to bed. But she had not begun to undress, and
she sat in a low chair near the window, with the casements wide open,
and the twin-peaks visible through them under a starry sky. Her head
had fallen back against the chair; her hands were folded on her lap.

Then she heard Fenwick come in and his step coming up the stairs.

It paused outside her door, and her heart beat so that she could
hardly bear it.

'May I come in?'

It seemed to her that he did not wait for her low reply. He came in,
and shut the door. There was a bright colour in his face, and his
breath came fast, as he stood beside her, with his hands on his sides.

'Are you sure you like my coming?' he said, brusquely.

She did not answer in words, but she put out her hand, and drew him
towards her.

He knelt down by her, and she flung an arm round his neck, and laid
her fair head on his shoulder with a long sigh.

'You are very tired?'

'No. I knew y