reach. He writhed upon his
bed as the image of her loveliness returned again and again,--her face
as she conversed at table, her dignity as she rose with the other
ladies, her smile when he said good-night. A smile that meant more than
civility; he was convinced of it. But memory would not support him
through half-a-year of solitude and ill-divining passion.

He would write to her, and risk all. Two o'clock in the morning saw him
sitting half-dressed at the table, raging over the difficulties of a
composition which should express his highest self. Four o'clock saw the
blotched letter torn into fragments. He could not write as he wished,
could not hit the tone of manly appeal. At five o'clock he turned
wretchedly into bed again.

A day of racking headache; then the long restful sleep which brings
good counsel. It was well that he had not sent a letter, nor in any
other way committed himself. If Sidwell were ever to be his wife, the
end could only be won by heroic caution and patience. Thus far he had
achieved notable results; to rush upon his aim would be the most absurd
departure from a hopeful scheme gravely devised and pursued. To wait,
to establish himself in the confidence of this family, to make sure his
progress step by step, that was the course indicated from the first by
his calm reason. Other men might triumph by sudden audacity; for him
was no hope save in slow, persevering energy of will. Passion had all
but ruined him; now he had recovered self-control.

Sidwell's six months in London might banish him from her mind, might
substitute some rival against whom it would be hopeless to contend.
Yes; but a thousand possibilities stood with menace in the front of
every great enterprise. Before next spring he might be dead.

Defiance, then, of every foreboding, of every shame; and a life that
moulded itself in the ardour of unchangeable resolve.

CHAPTER IV

Martin Warricombe was reconciled to the prospect of a metropolitan
winter by the fact that his old friend Thomas Gale, formerly Geological
Professor at Whitelaw College, had of late returned from a three years'
sojourn in North America, and now dwelt in London. The breezy man of
science was welcomed back among his brethren with two-fold
felicitation; his book on the Appalachians would have given no
insufficient proof of activity abroad, but evidence more generally
interesting accompanied him in the shape of a young and beautiful wife.
Not every geol