independent, Miss Moxey.'

Whereupon Godwin performed a salute, and marched forward.

His boxes were packed, and now he had but one more evening in the
old home. It was made less pleasant than it might have been by a
piece of information upon which he by chance alighted in a
newspaper. The result of the Honours examination for the First B.A. at
London had just been made known, and in two subjects a high place
was assigned to Bruno Leathwaite Chilvers--not the first place
happily, but it was disagreeable enough.

Pooh! what matter? What are academic successes? Ten years hence,
which name would have wider recognition--Bruno Chilvers or Godwin
Peak? He laughed with scornful superiority.

No one was to accompany him to the station; on that he insisted. He
had decided for as early a train as possible, that the dolours of
leave-taking might be abridged. At a quarter to eight the cab drove
up to the door. Out with the trunks labelled 'London'!

'Take care of the cabinets!' were his last words to his mother. 'I
may want to have them sent before long.'

He implied, what he had not ventured to say plainly, that he was
leaving Twybridge for good, and henceforth would not think of it as
home. In these moments of parting, he resented the natural feeling
which brought moisture to his eyes. He hardened himself against the
ties of blood, and kept repeating to himself a phrase in which of
late he had summed his miseries: 'I was born in exile--born in