Mr. Perrin turned aside towards the bottom of the hill and struck off across a frozen field into a bare and leafless wood. The light was growing with every moment, the bare outlines of the country stood out sharp and black against the surrounding gray and the great bank of cloud was slowly filling with golden light. The wood was very still; through the heart of it a little avenue of trees ran—now they were gaunt and stiff in two lines with the road cold and gray between. At the end of the little avenue there is suddenly a break, a sharp cliff running sharply to the white road beneath, and then below the road again there is the sea. It is a wonderful view from here, for the sea curves like a silver bowl into infinite distance. Through the country-side it is known as “The Golden View,” not golden now, however, but mysteriously moving and heaving beneath its gray veil with the faintest threads of color beginning to interlace the fabric of it. Mr. Perrin stood, a curiously tiny figure, at the end of the avenue and looked at the gray cliff at his feet. Behind him was the dark wood; in front of him a vast and swiftly-changing world. Very soon, as the sun rose above the sea, the world would be, once again, undisturbed. “To fling oneself down on to that cold white road” was a very easy death to die, but even now as he faced it he wondered whether he had the courage. He shivered in the cold and drew his coat closer about him. He thought that he would walk about a little. He turned round and saw coming towards him, through the leafless trees, Isabel Desart. III. He did not know what to do or say; at the first sight of her he thought that his eyes had deceived him and, because at this supreme moment of his life he was thinking of her, he had imagined that he saw her. She was dressed also in gray, with a gray cloak and a little round gray hat. And then in the hearty ring of her voice he knew that it was no ghost. “Oh!” he said faintly, taking a step towards her, and his voice was full of pain. “Good morning, Mr. Perrin,” she said very easily; “I could not sleep and I had thought that I would come down here to see the sun rise—and then I saw you pass through the school gates and I was impertinent enough to follow you. I want to talk to you.” “To talk to me?” He noticed suddenly that he was cold and that his teeth were chattering. “Yes. Let us walk on to Rayner's Point. We ought to get there just as the sun rises.” He followed her as she turned down the path. His mind had been so full of what he had intended to do that he felt that she must have known. He glanced at her almost guiltily as he followed her. How beautiful she was! He pulled his coat closer about his ears. “I hope you didn't very much want to be alone,” she said smiling at him; “but really, I couldn't miss my opportunity. I have been wanting—very badly—ever since yesterday afternoon—to speak to you.”