"An' now she's gorn, glory be," observed Doggett gayly. "Now you an' me can be comfortable, and if you come over to the Flower-pot with me, I don't mind standin' yer a sorsidge an' mashed. 'A good deed,' says the lydy, 'never goes without its reward, my man'; and I tell yer stryte, I ain't sorry I took yer sister aboard, though at the time it went all agin me." Felix had no reply to make. He turned his back, and went along to where the empty lair which had contained Rona lay upon the deck. What should he do? Wait till the darkest hour of night and then drop into the smooth black water? No! She still lived; and, though it was not likely, it was still possible that she might want him again. CHAPTER VI THE OUTCAST'S BROTHER When the drunken comrade mutters and the great guard-lantern gutters, And the horror of our fall is written plain, Every secret, self-revealing, on the aching, whitewashed ceiling, Do you wonder that we drug ourselves from pain? --RUDYARD KIPLING. The master of Normansgrave had come in from his golf, had been upstairs, made the necessary change in his dress, and returned to the hall, where he stood in the light of the fire, reading the _Spectator_. He was a young man of medium height, medium complexion, and medium looks. If it were added that his intellect also was of a medium quality, it would describe him pretty accurately. He was neither good nor bad, able nor foolish, handsome nor ugly. Just one of those men whose bent is determined largely by circumstances. Circumstances had made him master of a comfortable though not extensive property. Circumstances had placed him always in strong and virtuous opposition to a rowdy stepmother and an impossible half-brother. Circumstances also made him one of the county eligibles. And this, perhaps, was the unkindest trick that Circumstance had played him. The ruling motive of his conduct was a terrible fear of throwing himself away. He did not put it like that. He would have said, to anybody who might be interested, that, with the sad example of so good a man as his father before him, and the risk of the old estates descending to Felix, it behoved him to be peculiarly careful. But the real truth was that he thought nobody good enough to be mistress of himself and Normansgrave combined. He used to lament the inadequacy of modern young ladies from time to time to Miss Rawson, who gave her sympathy with a twinkle in her eye, and longed to see the correct young man deeply in love with an unsuitable person. In fact, she had lately begun to be of the opinion that it was high time her nephew, who was now past thirty, ranged himself. That very day, before going out in her motor, she had arranged a little house-party, to include one or two nice girls, and determined to urge Denzil to permit her to invite them forthwith.