BOOK II.



CHAPTER I.

KENELM CHILLINGLY had quitted the paternal home at daybreak before any
of the household was astir. "Unquestionably," said he, as he walked
along the solitary lanes,--"unquestionably I begin the world as poets
begin poetry, an imitator and a plagiarist. I am imitating an
itinerant verse-maker, as, no doubt, he began by imitating some other
maker of verse. But if there be anything in me, it will work itself
out in original form. And, after all, the verse-maker is not the
inventor of ideas. Adventure on foot is a notion that remounts to the
age of fable. Hercules, for instance; that was the way in which he
got to heaven, as a foot-traveller. How solitary the world is at this
hour! Is it not for that reason that this is of all hours the most
beautiful?"

Here he paused, and looked around and above. It was the very height
of summer. The sun was just rising over gentle sloping uplands. All
the dews on the hedgerows sparkled. There was not a cloud in the
heavens. Up rose from the green blades of corn a solitary skylark.
His voice woke up the other birds. A few minutes more and the joyous
concert began. Kenelm reverently doffed his hat, and bowed his head
in mute homage and thanksgiving.



CHAPTER II.