Then, as he thought of the land he was bound for and recalled the tragic story of Gladwyne's journey, he once more grew troubled. He realized the immutable sequence of cause and effect--each action had its result which must be faced however much one repented and regretted it. The deed, once done, could not be altered and, what was worse, its consequences reached out to others. Then he wondered whether Clarence had ever repented, and admitted, with a recurrence of his indignation against the man, that it was far from probable. Clarence was one who took life lightly, and although his means had been small until he came into his cousin's possessions, he had somehow succeeded in getting what is often considered the best out of it. Self-denial in any shape was unknown to him. The next morning Nasmyth took the train for Montreal, and about a fortnight later alighted at a little station in the north of England as the early dusk was closing in. It was a quiet evening and the soft moistness of his native air struck him as something pleasantly familiar after the keener, drier atmosphere of the Dominion. He was glad to be back again, but when he looked around, the trap waiting in the wet road outside the railings was not his own. Neither did it belong to Clarence, whom he had partly expected; but on the whole Nasmyth was glad of that. He had not looked forward to the first meeting with Clarence with any pleasure. In another moment, a girl came along the platform through the groups of local passengers, who respectfully made way for her. She was tall, and her long outer garment failed to conceal her grace of movement and fine poise, though in the fading light her face was almost invisible beneath a large hat. The sight of her sent a thrill of satisfaction through the man; it was seldom that Millicent Gladwyne's appearance was unwelcome to her friends. She approached him with outstretched hand. "I drove over for you. Clarence couldn't come; he was suddenly called up to town," she began. "It would have been rather lonely for you to spend the first evening by yourself at the Lodge. You will come to us?" "Thoughtful as ever," smiled Nasmyth, with a little bow which was respectful as well as friendly. "I needn't ask how you are; the way you walked along the platform was a testimony to our Border air." She laughed, softly and musically. "It is more needful to inquire how you have stood your adventures?" "I believe I'm thinner; but that isn't astonishing, everything considered. I suppose Clarence is getting on pretty satisfactorily?" "Clarence? Oh, yes!" There was a hint of uncertainty in her voice which Nasmyth noticed. "He has been in town a good deal of late. But come along; the horse--he's a new one--is rather restive. They'll send on your things." "The remnant of my outfit's contained in one small bag," laughed Nasmyth; "the rest's scattered about the hillsides of British Columbia. I was a picturesque scarecrow when I reached the settlements."