the mud-bottomed marshes. I walked with my cap stuffed in
my pocket, my head bared to the freshening wind, and all the way I met
no living creature. As I walked, my thoughts, which had been
concentrated for these last few days upon my work, went back to that
terrible half-hour at Braster Grange. I thought of Ray. I realized now
that for days past I had been striving not to think of him. The man's
sheer brutality appalled me. I believed in him now wholly, I believed
at least in his honesty, his vigorous and trenchant loyalty. But the
ways of the man were surely brutal to torture even vermin caught in the
trap, and that woman, adventuress though she might be, had flinched
before him in agony, as though her very nerves were being hacked out of
her body. And Blenavon, too! Surely he might have remembered that he
was her brother. He might have helped him to retain just a portion of
his self-respect. Was he as severe on every measure of wrong-doing? I
fancied to myself the meeting on that lonely road between the poor
white-faced creature who had looked in upon my window, and this strong
merciless man. Warmed with exercise as I was, I shivered. Ray reminded
me of those grim figures of the Old Testament. An eye for an eye, a
life for a life, were precepts with him indeed. He was as inexorable as
Fate itself. I feared him, and I knew why. I feared him when I
thought of Angela, almost over-sensitive, so delicate a flower to be
held in his strong, merciless grasp. I walked faster and faster, for
thoughts were crowding in upon me. Such a tangled web, such bitter
sweetness as they held for me. These were the thoughts which in those
days it was the struggle of my life to keep from coming to fruition. I
knew very well that, if once I gave way to them, flight alone could save
me. For the love of her was in my nerves, in every beat of my pulse, a
wild and beautiful dream, against which I was fighting always a hopeless
battle.

Far away, coming towards me along the sands, I saw her. I stopped
short. For a moment my heart was hot with joy, then I looked wildly
around, thinking of flight. It was not possible. Already she had seen
me. She waved her hand and increased her pace, walking with the swift
effortless grace of her beautiful young limbs, her head thrown back, a
welcoming smile already parting her lips. I set my teeth and prepared
myself for the meeting. Afterwards would come the pain, but for the
present the joy of seeing her, of b