through barren years!

He knew that he had awakened too late for more than a fleeting vision of
what would have made his life full. Now he must be off, up the path
again, this time knowing certainly that the woman would never more stand
waiting and wondering at the end, to embitter his renunciations. The
woman was definitely gone. That was something, even though she went with
that absurd, unreasoning, womanish suspicion. And he had one free, dear
look from her to keep through the empty days.




CHAPTER XVIII

THE FELL FINGER OF CALUMNY SEEMS TO BE AGREEABLY DIVERTED


Shut in his study, the rector of St. Antipas paced the floor with nicely
measured steps, or sat at his desk to make endless squares, circles, and
triangles. He was engrossed in the latter diversion when he heard the
bell sound below. He sat back to hear the steps of the maid, the opening
of the door; then, after an interval, her steps ascending the stairs and
stopping at his own door; then her knock.

"A letter for Mr. Bernal, sir!"

He glanced at the envelope she held, noting its tint.

"He's not here Nora. Take it to Mrs. Linford. She will know where he