"Where else could the damp come from? And damp is the worst thing possible for a chill. If only you had told me sooner, Pearce!" "Sir Cyril didn't give me no time, ma'am. He just said he was going to get a breath of air, and then he was off like a shot." "Imprudent boy! Those Trevelyans again!" sighed Sybella, too much agitated to be circumspect. Cyril had to pay for his wilfulness—not in the coin of ill-health, but in that of endurance. Sybella made known her views to him very fully on the enormity of his conduct; and a lecture from Sybella was apt to be, not loud perhaps, but long. He did not get inflammation of the lungs, as she had foretold, and in a few days the cold vanished. Yet consequences even more momentous flowed from the doings of those two days. Thenceforward there were changed relations between the aunt and nephew. A slowly-widening chasm appeared, separating the two. Unquestioning submission on the part of Cyril ceased; and a struggle for authority on the part of Sybella began. CHAPTER V. IN THE GORGE AGAIN. "But 'tis done—all words are idle— Words from me are vainer still, But the thoughts we cannot bridle Force their way without the will." BYRON. ONCE more Jem and Jean were in the gorge, not rushing headlong down the steep path, but walking steadily up. Jean could have raced as lightly the one way as the other; only she held herself in for the sake of her companion. Jem was overworked and out of condition. He had come to Dulveriford for rest, arriving late the evening before. This sharp ascent was about as much as he could manage, taking it easily. There is no great practice in hill-climbing to be had at the East-End. Jean's quick eyes noted the occasional pauses, which were not only for admiration of the scene. He had lost his healthy tan, gaining instead a fixed paleness; but the face at twenty-nine was handsomer than at twenty-two. It had grown finer and more refined. The nobility of deep thought and the purity of self-abnegation shone through every feature. Seven years since he had walked through this gorge. The former time was vividly present with Jem. He found himself unexpectedly haunted by recollections of the fair girl, whom he had last seen here. Seven years at his age are a considerable slice out of a lifetime; and Jem had long ago risen out of the despair into which he was plunged by Evelyn's engagement to General Villiers. He could look back now, with a kind compassion, to his own misery of mind at that time, almost as to the misery of another person; and he could feel a friendly interest in Evelyn's welfare. He had ceased to dream of her in connection with himself. His life was full of thought, full of work; it was a life entirely devoted to the good of others; and so of necessity it was a joyous life.