eyes gleamed the untroubled joy of existence. Hope just now was strong
within him, a hope defined and pointing to an end attainable; he knew
that henceforth the many bounding and voiceful streams of his life would
unite in one strong flow onward to a region of orient glory which shone
before him as the bourne hitherto but dimly imagined. On, Oberon, on! No
speed that would not lag behind the fore-flight of a heart's desire. Let
the stretch of green-shadowing woodland sweep by like a dream; let the
fair, sweet meadow-sides smile for a moment and vanish; let the dark
hill-summits rise and sink. It is the time of youth and hope, of
boundless faith in the world's promises, of breathless pursuit.

Hilstead was gained long before lunch could be thought of. Wilfrid rode
on, and circled back towards the hostelry famous for chops about the
hour of noon. He put up his horse, and strayed about the village till
his meal was ready; after he had eaten it he smoked a cigar among
hollyhocks and sunflowers. Then impatience possessed him. He looked at
his watch several times, annoyed to find that so little of the day was
spent. When he at last set forth again, it was to ride at walking pace
in the direction of home. He reached a junction of roads, and waited
there for several minutes, unable to decide upon his course. He ended by
throwing the reins on Oberon's neck.

'Go which way you will,' he said aloud.

Oberon paced forward to the homeward route.

'So be it. On, then! An hour will bring us to The Firs.'

The house was all but reached, when Wilfrid caught a glimpse of a straw
hat moving into a heath-clad hollow a hundred yards from the road. He