in the place
for some years before he went home and returned with a wife. He was an
honest and kindly young fellow and he worked hard. There was no flaw in
his record, and Heath believed that he was under the influence of a very
genuine religious feeling. He frequently came to see Heath, who knew his
character thoroughly, and knew that he was weak in many respects. He
talked enthusiastically of the girl he was going to marry, and Heath saw
him off on the liner when Rydal got his leave and, full of glad
anticipation, went away to bring out his wife.

When the clergyman had reached this point in his story, he got up and
paced the floor a couple of times, his monkish face sad and troubled,
and his eyes full of the tragic revelations that had yet to be made.

Coryndon did not hurry the narrative. He was engaged in calling up the
mental presentment of the young happy man. Heath had described him as
"fresh-looking," and had said that his manner was frank and always
kindly; he was friendly to weakness, kindly to weakness, his virtues all
tagged off into inefficient lack of grip; but he was honest and he found
life good. That was how Rydal had started, that was the Rydal who had
gripped Heath's hand as he stood on the deck of the _Worcestershire_ and
thought of the girl whom he was going home to marry.

"I still see him as I saw him then," said Heath, with a catch in his
voice. "He was so sure of all the good things of life, and he had
managed to save enough to furnish the bungalow by the river. I had gone
over it with him the day before he sailed, and his pride in it all was
very touching."

Coryndon nodded his head, and Heath took up the story again, standing
with his hands on the back of the chair.

"Rydal came back at the end of three months, his wife with him. She was
a pretty, silly creature, and her ideas of her social importance were
out of all keeping with Rydal's humble position in the Bank. She dressed
herself extravagantly, and began to entertain on a scale that was
ridiculous considering their poverty. Before their marriage, Rydal had
told me that it was a love match, and that she was as poor as he, as all
her own people could do for her was to make a small allowance sufficient
for her clothes."

Coryndon sat very still. Heath had come to the point where the real
interest began: he could see this on the sad face that turned towards
the western window.

"In the early hours of one morning towards the end of J