"I am sure of that," she said, stiffly. "I do not blame you."

* * * * *

Up into the purer, finer air of the hills-up with a lightening heart,
though still carrying a bitter burden of despondency. Night rested upon
the hilltops and brooded in the valleys. Below, the shadowy landscape
lay like blurred patchwork-still he climbed upwards till Feldwick lay
silent and sleeping at his feet and a flavour of the sea mingled with
the night wind which cooled his cheeks. Then Douglas Guest threw
himself breathless amongst the bracken and gazed with eager eyes
downwards.

"If she should not come," he murmured. "I must speak to some one or I
shall go mad."

Deeper fell the darkness, until the shape of the houses below was lost,
and only the lights were visible. Such a tiny little circle they
seemed. He watched them with swelling heart. Was this to be the end of
his dreams, then? Bailiff Morrison's cottage, two pounds a week, and
Joan for his wife? He, who had dreamed of fame, of travel in distant
countries, of passing some day into the elect of those who had written
their names large in the book of life. His heart swelled in passionate
revolt. Even though he might be a pauper, though he owed his learning
and the very clothes in which he stood to Gideon Strong, had any man the
right to demand so huge a sacrifice? He had spoken his mind and his
wishes only to be crushed with cold contempt. To-day his answer had
been given. What was it that Gideon Strong had said? "I have fed you
and clothed you and taught you; I have kept you from beggary and made
you what you are. Now, as my right, I claim your future. Thus and thus