God with bowed head, for I believe that somewhere behind all these
beautiful things their prototype must exist. Don't think I've turned
ranter. I've never spoken like this to any one else before, and I don't
suppose I ever shall again. Here is Nature, man, the greatest force on
earth, the mother, the mistress, beneficent, wonderful! You are a
creature of cities. Stay with me here for a day or two, and the joy of
all these things will steal into your blood. You, too, will know what
peace is."

Borrowdean, as though unconsciously, straightened himself. If no colour
came to his cheeks, the light of battle was at least in his eyes. This
man was speaking heresies. The words sprang to his lips.

"Peace!" he exclaimed, scornfully. "Peace is for the dead. The last
reward perhaps of a breaking heart. The life effective, militant, is
the only possible existence for men. Pull yourself together, Mannering,
for Heaven's sake. Yours is the _faineant_ spirit of the decadent,
masquerading in the garb of a sham primitivism. Were you born into the
world, do you think, to loiter through life an idle worshipper at the
altar of beauty? Who are you to dare to skulk in the quiet places, whilst
the battle of life is fought by others?"

Another lark had risen almost from their feet, and, circling its way
upwards, was breaking into song. And below, the full spring tide was
filling the pools and creeks with the softly flowing, glimmering
sea-water. The fishing boats, high and dry an hour ago, were passing now
seaward along the silvery way. All these things Mannering was watching
with rapt eyes, even whilst he listened to his companion.

"Dear friend," he said, "the world can get on very well without me, and