He tottered away up the path.




CHAPTER II

Excursions In Melancholy.



I.

Gloom brooded over Herons' Holt that evening. Gloom hung thickly about
the rooms: blanketed conversation; veiled eyes that might have
sparkled; choked appetites.

Nevertheless this was an atmosphere in which one member of the
household felt most comfortable.

Margaret, Mr. Marrapit's only child, was nineteen; of sallow
complexion, petite, pretty; with large brown eyes in which sat always
a constant quest--an entreaty, a wistful yearning.

Hers was a clinging nature, readily responsive to the attraction of
any stouter mind. Enthusiasm was in this girl, but it lay well-like--
not as a spring. To stir it the influence of another was wanted; of
itself, spontaneous, it could not leap. Aroused, there was no rush and
surge of emotion--it welled, rose deeply; thickly, without ripple;