As many people said at first, it was a pleasant thing that the name of Radpath had come back to the great house on the hill. It was like to stay there also, through another generation at least, they would add, since, a year and a half later, there was a new member of the household, a sunny-hearted, sturdy young gentleman who romped and rolled upon the grass in the garden. It was a delight, besides, to see the big house finished at last, to see smooth panelling replace the rough boards, and plaster walls stand where bare timbers had been left. For the proper completing of Stephen Sheffield’s house, Gerald had used a large part of the little fortune he had brought with him from England, realised from the sale of his small estate. There were also outlying lands to be looked to, where the fields must be turned once more into their old round of cultivation. Stephen Sheffield’s fortune, much confused and diminished on account of the war and of his great generosity, must be finally set in order, a task that was no small or easy one. In such occupations two years had passed away and still the great question as to just which highroad of life they were to take had not yet been settled. They were walking in the garden one warm bright afternoon, Gerald carrying his little son, whose name as any one might guess, was Stephen. Clotilde, with her basket and garden shears, was gathering the last of the October-blooming flowers. Their talk had been of many and quite unimportant things, but for a little while they had been silent as they went, all three together, down the grassy path. “Gerald,” said Clotilde at last, “there has been for days something hanging heavy on your mind. Are you not nearly ready to tell me of it?” Smiling at the ease with which she read his thoughts, Gerald answered: “I am ready to speak of it now and was that moment searching for the words with which to begin. It is not an easy thing to say.” They sat down together on the bench and Gerald set young Stephen on the grass where he could roll and tumble to his heart’s content. “If you know my thoughts so well, Clotilde,” he said, “you must have long seen that there is something wrong with my position here in Hopewell.” “I have known that something troubled you,” she replied, “but I had not realised that there was aught amiss in regard to our neighbours.”