After the meeting with Abel, Raymond saw Sabina and described what had occurred; but she could only express her regrets.  She declared herself more hopeful than he and promised to reason with the boy to the best of her power.

“I’ve never stood against you with him, and I’ve never stood for you with him.  I’ve kept out of it and not influenced for or against,” she said.  “But now I’ll do more than that; I’ll try and influence him for you.”

Raymond was obliged.

“I shall be very grateful to you if you can.  If there’s any human being who carries weight with him, you do.  Such blistering frankness—­such crooked, lightning looks of hate—­fairly frighten me.  I had no idea any young creature could feel so much.”

“He’s going through what I went through, I suppose,” she said.  “I don’t want to hurt you, or vex you any more.  I’m changed now and tired of quarrelling with things that can’t be altered.  When we find the world’s sympathy for us is dead, then it’s wiser to accept the situation and cease to run about trying to wake it up again.  So I’ll try to show him what the world will be for the likes of him if he hasn’t got you behind him.”

“Do—­and don’t do it bitterly.  You can’t talk for two minutes about the past without getting bitter—­unconsciously, quite unconsciously, Sabina.  And your unconscious bitterness hurts me far more than it hurts you.  But don’t be bitter with him, or show there’s another side of your feelings about it.  Keep that for me, if you must.  My shoulders are broad enough to bear it.  He is brimming with acid as it is.  Sweeten his mind if it is in your power.  That’s the only way of salvation, and the only chance of bringing him and me together.”

She promised to attempt it.

“And if I’m bitter still,” she said, “it is largely unconscious, as you say.  You can’t get the taste of trouble out of your mouth very easily after you’ve been deluged with it and nigh drowned in it, as I have.  It’s only an echo and won’t reach his ear, though it may reach yours.”

“Thank you, Sabina.  Do what you can,” he said, and left her, glad to get away from the subject and back to his own greater interests.

He heard nothing more for a few days, then came the news that Abel had disappeared.  By night he had vanished and search failed to find him.

Sabina could only state what had gone before his departure.  She had spoken with him on Raymond’s behalf and urged him to reconsider his attitude and behave sensibly and worthily.  And he, answering nothing, had gone to bed as usual; but when she called him next morning, no reply came and she found that he had ridden away on his bicycle in the night.  The country was hunted, but without result, and not for three days did his mother learn what had become of Abel.  Then, in reply to police notices of his disappearance, there came a letter from a Devonshire dairy farm, twenty miles to the west of Bridport.  The boy had appeared there early in the morning and begged for some breakfast.  Then he asked for something to do.  He was now working on trial for a week, but whether giving satisfaction or no they did not learn.