was in the cold darkness of his rooms in Pump Court. He raised his
face, deadly pale, from his hands; but gradually it went aflame with
the joy and rapture of sacrifice, and taking his manuscript, he
lighted it in the gas. He held it for a few moments till it was well
on fire, and then threw it all blazing under the grate.




CHAPTER II


An odour of spirits evaporated in the warm winds of May which came
through the open window. The rich velvet sofa of early English design
was littered with proofs and copies of the _Pilgrim_, and the stamped
velvet was two shades richer in tone than the pale dead-red of the
floorcloth. Small pictures in light frames harmonized with a green
paper of long interlacing leaves. On the right, the grand piano and
the slender brass lamps; and the impression of refinement and taste
was continued, for between the blue chintz curtains the river lay
soft as a picture of old Venice. The beauty of the water, full of
the shadows of hay and sails, many forms of chimneys, wharfs, and
warehouses, made panoramic and picturesque by the motion of the great
hay-boats, were surely wanted for the windows of this beautiful
apartment.

Mike and Frank stood facing the view, and talked of Lily Young, whom
Mike was momentarily expecting.

"You know as much about it as I do. It was only just at the end that