right. Do right, and the good'll take care of itself."

Davenant reflected on this in silence as they tramped onward. By this
time they had descended Tory Hill, and were on the dike that outlines
the shores of the Charles.

By a common impulse both Temple and Davenant kept silent concerning
Guion. On leaving Tory Hill they had elected to walk homeward, the
ladies taking the carriage. The radiant moonlight and the clear, crisp
October air helped to restore Davenant's faculties to a normal waking
condition after the nightmare of Guion's hints. Fitting what he supposed
must be the facts into the perspective of common life, to which the
wide, out-of-door prospect offered some analogy, they were, if not less
appalling, at least less overwhelming. Without seeing what was to be
done much more clearly than he had seen an hour ago, he had a freer
consciousness of power--something like the matter-of-course assumption
that any given situation could be met with which he ordinarily faced the
world. That he lacked authority in the case was a thought that did not
occur to him--no more than it occurred to him on the day when he rescued
the woman from drowning, or on the night when he had dashed into the
fire to save a man.

It was not till they had descended the straggling, tree-shaded
street--along which the infrequent street-lamps threw little more light
that that which came from the windows shining placidly out on lawns--and
had emerged on the embankment bordering the Charles, that the events of
the evening began for Davenant to weave themselves in with that
indefinable desire that had led him back to Boston. He could not have
said in what way they belonged together; and yet he could perceive that
between them there was some such dim interpenetration as the distant