A Devotee

ired. At Life

gift she u

o him she h

ution of

lde B

circle may be drawn is nowhere to be found among those fragments. The first cause we cannot see. With sacrilegious hands we may rend the veil of its temple in the sacred

ary disciples of a great master, and their power is from him. In h

resence of which youth sinks its voice, and beauty pales

the days of his life? But whether it had been given to him at his birth, or he had found it alone upon the hillside, or Sorrow, who has many treas

ersonal love and respect which he inspired in men and women, as a beautiful woman s

ith this rough world, and yet not content to dwell apart from awkward fellow-creatures who wounded when they touched it, had leaned twice on the frail ree

marriage and his romantic love, and his young wife's desertion of him, consumed like a rolling prairie-fire his early life. But he

fterwards the love of woman, deep-rooted though it was, died down in Mr. Loftus's heart. He went quietly on his way, but the way wearied him. He confided in no o

o give up public life. He ceased to be in authority, but he remained an authority, and so lived patiently on

e him. He never took for granted, if he went out for a walk, that he should return; and on this particular May afternoon, as he looked out from a friend's house in Park Lane across the street to the twinkle of green and the coloured bands of hyacinths b

t be staved off any longer. For the newly-imposed death-duties and the increasing pressure of taxation on land, in the teeth of increasing agricultural depression, had been the death-blow of Wilderleigh, as of so many other quiet country home

ious day, and he knew that she had quite recently returned with her daughter and niece from Egypt, where they had spent the winter months. Something in t

e vast machine, Spring had ventured to alight for a moment, undisturbed by the distant roar of dusty struggling life all round her. The new leaves on the smoke-black branches of the trees were for a moment green as those unfolding in country lanes. Smoke-black among the silvery gr

-nigh reached Lady Pierpoint's door before his though

thusiasms of life are made of sterner stuff than she, poor child! guesses. What will become of her? What man in the future will take her ardent, fragil

walking things. The room was without flowers, without books, without any of the small landmarks of occupation

teapot into an enormous teacup, looked al

worn and harassed. Her cheerful motherly face was beginning to droop like a mastiff's at the corn

hich matched her own. 'I cannot bring forth butter in a lordly dish, as you per

o ask after Sibyl, but he

this year-Molly-perhaps you remember her; but how to bring her to London this season I don't know. I have hardly se

metal teaspoon; 'will not she be in London w

en very anxious about her all the winter. I greatly fear that she will sink

ked blankly at

surely there is some mistak

nter, and she is naturally delicate, but there is no actual disease as yet. But if she continues

tus was

ious, saddened, world-weary face, an

ing to you, but I could not. I had thought of asking you to come and see me while I was alone here, but my courage failed me. But now that

r. Loftus's pale face. He

ice which did not escape his companion, 'we must both forget tha

can think of nothing else. Some of us,' she said sadly, 'are so constituted that we can bear trouble and disappointment-others can't. This poor child, who has cried fo

d up and down the room. S

d, with his face turned

elds. Nothing lives there. The fire in it is burnt out, and there is snow over the ashes. It is o

ly years of her widowhood, and in the later ones had helped on her boys by his influence in high quart

ler kind than Sibyl's, led her to say: 'It is not

uth that in her own middle-a

ut this poor child, who is as dear to me as my own, though I hope my own will face life more bravely. Should you, after reflection, feel able to do her this-this-gre

d out her hand.

red to read the grave, inscrutable gl

he said, an

of him?' said Lady P