“… nessun maggoir dolore Che ricordasi del tempo felice Nella miseria.” (“A sorrow’s crown of sorrow is remembering happier things.”) The contrast would be terrible. He knew what the thought of it was to him; what would it be to her! Her sweet, gentle, loving heart would be hurt, crushed to the very dust. He sprang to his feet and walked about the room, till noticing the sergeant was watching him with surprise and suspicion, he controlled himself. He talked with the sergeant for a while genially. It was positively necessary that there should not be any doubt in the mind of the latter when the Sheriff should arrive. This episode took the strain from his mind--for a time. He expressed to the officer how anxious he was to get on and interested the worthy man so much that he sent over to the hotel to borrow a time-table. There Athlyne learned that it would be practically impossible for him to get on to Ambleside that night. Not even if he could get a special train at Carlisle--there was no possibility of getting one from a nearer place. When he asked the sergeant his opinion, that grave individual condescended to smile: “Losh! man they don’t run specials on these bit lines. ’Tis as much as they can do to run a few trains a day. A’m thinkin’ that if ye asked the stationmaster anywheer along the Dumfries and Kircudbright line for a special he’d hae ye in the daft-hoose, or he’d be there himsel!” Athlyne went back to his seat; once again the pendulum of his thoughts swung to and fro. He was now face to face with one certainty amongst many possibilities: Whatever befel he could not give any immediate help to Joy. She, poor dear, must fend for herself and if need be, fight her battle alone. He could only try to make it up to her afterwards. And yet what could he do for her, what more give to her who had already all that was his! And here again he lost himself in memories of the immediate past; which presently merged into dreams of the future which has no end.