coronal of tropic trees, he would devote his life to reclaiming from ignorance and barbarism the waste places of a degraded humanity. Such were the visions and purposes that floated through his mind--partly the fantastic fancies of dreamy hours, partly the unconscious desire to fly from a land which reminded him too painfully of vanished hopes, and from a scene which had been the witness of his error and disgrace. Perhaps, most of all, he was influenced by the desire to escape from a house which constantly recalled the image of a lost love--a lost love that he never hoped to regain; for Kennedy thought--though but little had been said about it--that Violet had deliberately and finally rejected him in scorn for the courses he had followed. But he wished, before he quite made up his mind as to his future career, to see Violet once more, and bid her a last farewell. Not daring to write and announce his intention lest she should refuse to meet him again, and unwilling to trust his secret to any of her family, he determined to see her by surprise, and enjoy for one last hour the unspeakable happiness of sitting by her side. "Father," he said, "I am well now, or nearly well will you let me go on a little journey?" "A journey?--where? We will all go together, Edward, if you want any change of air and scene." He shook his head. "You can guess," he said, "where I wish to go for the last time." "But do you think you can travel alone, Eddy, with your poor wounded hand?" asked Eva. "Oh yes; the splints keep it safe, and I shall only be two days or so away." They suffered him to fulfil his whim, although they felt that if he saw Violet, the meeting could hardly fail to be full of pain. It was deep in autumn when he started, and arriving at Ildown, took up his abode in the little village inn. He kept himself as free from observation as he could, and begged the landlady, who recognised him, not to mention his arrival to any one. She had seen him on his former visit, and remembered favourably his genial good-humour and affable bearing. He told her frankly that he had come to say good-bye to Miss Home, whom he might not see again; but he did not wish to go to the house--could the landlady tell him anything about their movements? "Why, yes; I do happen to know," she said, "and I suppose there can't be no harm in telling you, for I heard Master Cyril say as how they were all a-going a-gipseying to-morrow in the wood near the King's Oak." "And when do you think they will start?" "Oh, they'll start at ten, sir, in the morning, for I'm a-going to lend 'em my little trap to carry the perwisions in, and that." This would suit Kennedy capitally, and musing on the meeting of the morrow, he sank into a doze in the armchair. A whispering awoke him, and he was far from reassured by overhearing the following colloquy:-- "Who be that in the parlour?" asked a rustic.