“The glorious mystery of a woman’s heart,”

and it made him feel unfit for ordinary social intercourse.  He hastened from the house, walked swiftly down the avenue to the lodge, where he kept his bicycle, left word there that he was going for an excursion and should probably not return in time for dinner, mounted, and sped away recklessly along the Riverside Road.  In less than two minutes he passed the gate of Sallust’s House, where he nearly ran over an old woman laden with a basket of coals, who put down her burthen to scream curses after him.  Warned by this that his headlong pace was dangerous, he slackened it a little, and presently saw Trefusis lying prone on the river bank, with his cheeks propped on his elbows, reading intently.  Erskine, who had presented him, a few days before, with a copy of “The Patriot Martyrs and other Poems,” tried to catch a glimpse of the book over which Trefusis was so serious.  It was a Blue Book, full of figures.  Erskine rode on in disgust, consoling himself with the recollection of Gertrude’s face.

The highway now swerved inland from the river, and rose to a steep acclivity, at the brow of which he turned and looked back.  The light was growing ruddy, and the shadows were lengthening.  Trefusis was still prostrate in the meadow, and the old woman was in a field, gathering hemlock.

Erskine raced down the hill at full speed, and did not look behind him again until he found himself at nightfall on the skirts of a town, where he purchased some beer and a sandwich, which he ate with little appetite.  Gertrude had set up a disturbance within him which made him impatient of eating.

It was now dark.  He was many miles from Brandon Beeches, and not sure of the way back.  Suddenly he resolved to complete his unfinished declaration that evening.  He now could not ride back fast enough to satisfy his impatience.  He tried a short cut, lost himself, spent nearly an hour seeking the highroad, and at last came upon a railway station just in time to catch a train that brought him within a mile of his destination.

When he rose from the cushions of the railway carriage he found himself somewhat fatigued, and he mounted the bicycle stiffly.  But his resolution was as ardent as ever, and his heart beat strongly as, after leaving his bicycle at the lodge, he walked up the avenue through the deep gloom beneath the beeches.  Near the house, the first notes of “Grudel perche finora” reached him, and he stepped softly on to the turf lest his footsteps on the gravel should rouse the dogs and make them mar the harmony by barking.  A rustle made him stop and listen.  Then Gertrude’s voice whispered through the darkness: 

“What did you mean by what you said to me within?”

An extraordinary sensation shook Erskine; confused ideas of fairyland ran through his imagination.  A bitter disappointment, like that of waking from a happy dream, followed as Trefusis’s voice, more finely tuned than he had ever heard it before, answered,