The Return

thoughts on which an occasional sound-the droning of a fly, the cry of a milkman, the noise of a passing van-obtruded from the workaday world. The pale gold sunlight edged softly over the bed. He a

through his brain. He longed with an ardour

ight not be? Could his shrewd old vicar have implicitly believed in him if the change were as complete as he supposed it? He flung off the bedclothes and locked the door. He dressed himself, noticing, he fancied, with a deadly revulsion of feeling,

ked the door behind him, put the key in his pocket, and ran lightly downstairs. He stuffed the towel into an ulster pocket, put on a soft, wide-brimmed hat, and noiselessly let himself out. Then he turned with an almost hysterical delight and ran-ran like the wind, without pausing, without

rsonality which was beginning to insinuate itself into his consciousness, which had so miraculously broken in and taken possession of his body. He would not

boy? There was little sound of life; somewhere an unknown bird was singing, and a few late bees were droning in the bracken. All these years he had, like an old blind horse, stolidly plodded round and round in a dull self-set routine. And now, just when the

edulous scoffing world that would turn him into a monstrosity and his story into a fable. And in a little while, perhaps in three days, he would awaken out of this engrossing nightmare, and know he was free, this black do

ue. Nothing seemed aware of him. But as he stood there, doubtful as Cain on the outskirt

old lady had passed by. Up and up she came. Her large bonnet appeared, and then her mild white face, inclined a little towards him as she ascended. Evidently this very seat was her goal; and evasion was impossible. Evasion!... Memory rushed back and set his pulses beating. He turned boldly to the sun, and the old lad

, gilded with sunshine. 'Beautiful, indeed,' he sa

aquiline profile. 'Well, I confess,' she rema

ily. 'Believe me, it

might wish; though better perhaps than I might have hoped; I

d. Whose trickery was this? he thought, p

e silvery and scrupulous countenance. '

'And have you,' he asked, 'not the lea

and scores of faces in seventy long years; and how very treacherous memory is. You sha

Miss Sinnet,' said Lawford quietly 'a friend

see, all but one of the friends of my girlhood are dead; and if I have never had the pleasure of m

ieve, a likeness

October. Now you are certainly not Fanny Urquhart's son,' she stooped austerely, 'for she never had one. Last year, too, I heard that my dear, dear Mrs Jameson was dead. HER I hadn't m

e turned his eyes wearily to the fast declining sun. 'You will forgive my persistency, but I

y name,' she said to herself. She turned once more, and in the still autumnal beauty, beneath that pale blue arch of e

'you can be Mary Lawford's son. I

ntment; had he caught even the echo of an unholy joy? His mind for a moment became confused as if in the tu

ful and gentle snail into its shocked house

prompting. 'Not Bennett!... How can I eve

e. He raised his hat and turned miserably home. He strode on out of the last gold into the blue twilight. What fantastic foolery of mind was mastering him? He cast a hurried look over his shoulder at the kindly and offended old figure sitting

er trust and courtesy. Oh, it was hopeless to struggle any more! The fates were against him. They had played him a trick. He was to be their transitory sport, as many a better man he could himself recollect

hought welled up into his mind an intense desire to go to the old green time-worn churchyard again; to sit there contentedly alone, where none heeded the completest metamorphosis, down beside the yew-trees. What a fool he

when he was quite himself again. She should some day hear, perhaps, his infinitely tragic, infinitely comic experience from his own lips. He would take her some flowers, some old

taken his keys. He stood there, dazed and still, beneath the dim yellow of his own fanlight

flamboyantl

oor opened. 'Dr Simon, of course,

s,

as I feared. An

s Lawford i

not disturb her; we will not disturb her.

awford would prefer to see you herself; she told me most particularly

lantly, 'perhaps-perhaps it-WOULD be as well if Mrs Lawford should know that I am here. No, thank you, I won't come in. P

ng, beckoning, calling, pleading-Fly, fly! Home's here for you. Begin again, begin again. And there bef

bly. 'A sudden call, a perfectly impossible d

her a pity perhaps? Dr Simon seemed to thin

d quiet s

o means,' he

rb and triumphant, beneath the gaze of those dark, restless eyes. But so still was home and street that quite distinctly a clear and youthful la

alf raised and coldly smiling lips and, as if it were by pre-arrangement, her daughter's laughing greeting from the garden, and from the landing above her, a faint 'Ah,

bed before a cold and ashy hearth

r followed. He rose with a shuddering s

of finesse was part of o

' began

thief, and to return like a mounteb

ly began again, 'did

the name of a doctor that doesn't exist, and a bedridden patient that slips out of the house with his bedroom key in his pocket! Are you aware that Ada has been hamme

lice?' inquired the

efuse to be made a child of.

t Alice? If you wired: well, it's useless to say anything more. B

ppreciate a father

s as if to receive a blow. 'Yes,

faintly up from below. 'How did Jimmie Fo

ire of Jimmie Fort

that you are as hard as you pretend. An acquaintance, even a friend might be deceived; but husband and wife-oh no! It isn't only a man's face that's himself-or even his hands.' He looked at

lice a chance"; now isn't th

tand me quite well, although you persistently pretend not to. I can't argue now. I

?' suggested his wife in

interval." Don't please look at my face like that, Sheila. Thin

ers, in the head hung a little forward, and in the preternaturally solemn voice, that Sheila had to bend a little over the bed to catch

ing while you are in this mood,' contin

ed hands clench

o what I say. It's only-it's just Alice

f. You were particularly anxious about my feelings, weren't you? You broke the news to

you as much as ever; but with this-as I am; what would be

e door, 'Mother, are you there?

hours ago she was asking that very question of this

alled. And added in a ver

ked up. 'Wh

she whispered, 'it

e said, 'don't torture me; te

Would you mind, father says, wait

.... Oh, very

door, and called afte

yes,

did you

ther's coming on. You know what Jimmie is. How very, very lucky I did come home. I don't know wha

s mouth, gulped,

llen asleep. I will be down in a minute.' Mrs Law

ing, as you told me, to let Dr Ferguson out, but it

y words, and turned and looked over her shoulder into the room. 'Do you thin

ips moved; again

the door. 'Some more medicine-what m

?"' repeated La

Don't you see? What was it you sent to Critchett's for

Oh, yes, yes,' he said t

on wants a further supply of the drug which Mr Critchett made up for Mr Lawford yesterday

awford; but it was too

alsehood and subterfuge. What

forgot I had been ill. And now I do really feel very tired. But I should like

cult voice-'I spoke in a temper this morning. You must try to understand what a shock it has been to me. Now, I own it frankly, I know you are

ll come right, soon. Meanwhile, for Alice's sake, if not for mine, don't give way to-

t stubbornly back into his pocket again. 'Oh, Sheila, the forgiveness is all on

on-to see her. What we should do without this influenza, I cannot conceive. Mr Bethany will probably look in on his way home; and then we ca

d there must be something wrong with the message, and he's sorry, but he must have it in writing because

nd, and then, as if in inarticulate disdain, she deliberately