But Lucy was surprised to hear that he read the Greek classics with enthusiasm. She had vaguely imagined that people recognised their splendour, but did not read them unless they were dons or schoolmasters, and it was strange to find anyone for whom they were living works. To Alec they were a deliberate inspiration. They strengthened his purpose and helped him to see life from the heroic point of view. He was not a man who cared much for music or for painting; his whole aesthetic desires were centred in the Greek poets and the historians. To him Thucydides was a true support, and he felt in himself something of the spirit which had animated the great Athenian. His blood ran faster as he spoke of him, and his cheeks flushed. He felt that one who lived constantly in such company could do nothing base. But he found all he needed, put together with a power that seemed almost divine, within the two covers that bound his Sophocles. The mere look of the Greek letters filled him with exultation. Here was all he wanted, strength and simplicity, and the greatness of life, and beauty. He forgot that Lucy did not know that dead language and could not share his enthusiasm. He broke suddenly into a chorus from the _Antigone_; the sonorous, lovely words issued from his lips, and Lucy, not understanding, but feeling vaguely the beauty of the sounds, thought that his voice had never been more fascinating. It gained now a peculiar and entrancing softness. She had never dreamed that it was capable of such tenderness. At last they reached Court Leys and walked up the avenue that led to the house. They saw Dick hurrying towards them. They waved their hands, but he did not reply, and, when he approached, they saw that his face was white and anxious. 'Thank God, you've come at last! I couldn't make out what had come to you.' 'What's the matter?' The barrister, all his flippancy gone, turned to Lucy. 'Bobbie Boulger has come down. He wants to see you. Please come at once.' Lucy looked at him quickly. Sick with fear, she followed him into the drawing-room. V Mrs. Crowley and Robert Boulger were standing by the fire, and there was a peculiar agitation about them. They were silent, but it seemed to Lucy that they had been speaking of her. Mrs. Crowley impulsively seized her hands and kissed her. Lucy's first thought was that something had happened to her brother. Lady Kelsey's generous allowance had made it possible for him to hunt, and the thought flashed through her that some terrible accident had happened. 'Is anything the matter with George?' she asked, with a gasp of terror. 'No,' answered Boulger. The colour came to Lucy's cheeks as she felt a sudden glow of relief. 'Thank God,' she murmured. 'I was so frightened.' She gave him, now, a smile of welcome as she shook hands with him. It could be nothing so very dreadful after all.