It was a long journey, the same that Ideala herself had taken under such very different circumstances so short a time before. I thought of her going in doubt and uncertainty, her own feelings colouring the aspect of all she saw on the way; and returning in the first warm glow of her great and unexpected joy--her new-found happiness which was destined, alas! to be so short-lived. Miserable fate which robbed her of all that would have made her life worth having--a husband on whom she could rely; her child; and now the man upon whom she had been prepared to lavish the long pent-up passion, the concentrated devotion of her great and noble nature! Poor starved heart, crushed back upon itself, suffering silently, suffering always, but never hardening--on the contrary, growing tenderer for others the more it had to endure itself! Would it always be so? Was there no peace on earth for Ideala? No one who could be all her own? I felt responsible for this last hard blow; had I done well? The rush and rattle of the train shaped itself into a sort of sub-chorus to my thoughts as we sped through the pleasant fields: _Was it right? Was it right? Was it right?_ And I saw Ideala, with soft, sad eyes, pleading--mutely pleading--pleading always for some pleasure in life, some natural, womanly joy, while youth and the power to love lasted. By an effort of will I banished the question. I told myself that my action in the matter had been expedient from every point of view; but presently The rush of the grinding steel! The thundering crank, and the mighty wheel! took me to task again, and the chorus now became: _Expediency right! Expediency right! Expediency right!_ which, when I banished it, resolved itself into: _Cold, proud Puritan! Cold, proud Puritan!_ for the rest of the way. But the journey ended at last--though that was little relief with the task I had before me still unaccomplished. A bulbous functionary took my card to Lorrimer when I presented myself at the Great Hospital next day, and returning presently informed me that Mr. Lorrimer was disengaged, and would see me at once, if I would be so good as to come this way. How familiar the whole proceeding seemed! And how well I knew the place! the soothing silence, the massive grandeur, the long, dimly lighted gallery to the right, the door at which the servant stopped and knocked, the man who opened it, and met my eyes fearlessly, bowing with natural grace, and bidding me enter--a tall, fair man; self-contained and dignified; cold, pale, and unimpassioned--so I thought--but my equal in every way: the man who was "all the world" to Ideala. When I saw him I understood. * * * * * Lorrimer, after dismissing his secretary, was the first to speak. "You come to me from Ideala?" he said. "Is there anything wrong? Is she ill?" And I fancied he turned a trifle paler as the fear flashed through his mind. I reassured him. "Physically she is better," I said.