crept away to die. Lucian looked into his own life and his own will; he
saw that in spite of his follies, and his want of success, he had not
been consciously malignant, he had never deliberately aided in
oppression, or looked on it with enjoyment and approval, and he felt that
when he lay dead beneath the earth, eaten by swarming worms, he would be
in a purer company than now, when he lived amongst human creatures. And
he was to call this loathsome beast, all sting and filth, brother! "I had
rather call the devils my brothers," he said in his heart, "I would fare
better in hell." Blood was in his eyes, and as he looked up the sky
seemed of blood, and the earth burned with fire.

The sun was sinking low on the mountain when he set out on the way again.
Burrows, the doctor, coming home in his trap, met him a little lower on
the road, and gave him a friendly good-night.

"A long way round on this road, isn't it?" said the doctor. "As you have
come so far, why don't you try the short cut across the fields? You will
find it easily enough; second stile on the left hand, and then go
straight ahead."

He thanked Dr. Burrows and said he would try the short cut, and Burrows
span on homeward. He was a gruff and honest bachelor, and often felt very
sorry for the lad, and wished he could help him. As he drove on, it
suddenly occurred to him that Lucian had an awful look on his face, and
he was sorry he had not asked him to jump in, and to come to supper. A
hearty slice of beef, with strong ale, whisky and soda afterwards, a good
pipe, and certain Rabelaisian tales which the doctor had treasured for
many years, would have done the poor fellow a lot of good, he was
certain. He half turned round on his seat, and looked to see if Lucian
were still in sight, but he had passed the corner, and the doctor drove