Now--ah! everything had changed. He was no longer insignificant--he was the heir of a man of wealth and distinction--his fortunes were certain--he could make a future for the woman he loved. If, as he had imagined, dreamed---- But he could go no further. He flung himself on the grass. His lips were towards the earth, and it was as if he was speaking to _it_--telling it the secret ecstasy that he had not breathed to any living soul. 'I could not speak then, but I can now. This wealth has freed my hand. They will listen to me--they must! And she! Oh, Grace! oh, my darling! Come to me and I will make the earth a Paradise to you! Others do not know what love means. They promise and they forget. I never will. My love! my beautiful love! Come to me, and let me care for you. I will, I will. Care for you as never woman was cared for before. Your lightest wish shall be my law. Your very imaginations and dreams shall come to pass. You and I, Grace, you and I--our two lives shall flow on together, loving and beloved, until----' What was this? He pulled up short. It was a pang, sudden and swift, like a cold hand on his heart. He rose slowly, and found that his limbs were stiff, and that his clothes were wet with the night dews. Like one in a maze he went on, for a few steps, blindly. The roots of a willow stopped him, and he saw that he was on the edge of the sloping bank that ran down to the river. He stood where he was, gazing out before him, with eyes that saw nothing. In that little instant all his ecstasy had gone, to be replaced by a dull misery such as he had never felt before. Between night and morning there is a moment when life is said to run sluggishly in the veins of earth's children. It is then that the long-tortured drop into blissful, if brief unconsciousness; that watchers nod drowsily; and that the dying fall on the sleep that knows no waking. That moment had come. Tom lifted his heavy lids and looked round him. A chill stole through his frame, penetrating to the very marrow of his bones. He buttoned his coat up to the chin and turned to leave the garden. But in the next instant he was transfixed. It was as if a hand of iron was laid upon his wrist, compelling him to stand where he was. He passed his hand before his eyes dreamily. When, after a brief interval, he looked up, it seemed to him that the colour of the water had changed from the pale crystal of the morning to deep blood-red. The trees were changing too, taking strange and undistinguishable shapes, while there came towards him on the breeze a confused murmur as of a multitude of steps and voices.