"Is it so much to ask of destiny--just one honest heart?" he inwardly demanded--"Is it so large a return to want from the world in which I have toiled so long--just one unselfish love? People would tell me I am too old to expect such a thing,--but I am not seeking the love of a lover,--that I know is impossible. But Love,--that most god-like of all emotions, has many phases, and a merely sexual attraction is the least and worst part of the divine passion. There is a higher form,--one far more lasting and perfect, in which Self has very little part,--and though I cannot give it a name, I am certain of its existence!" Another gust of wind, more furious than the last, whistled overhead and through the crannies of the door. He rose, and tucking Charlie warmly under his coat as before, he went out, pausing on his way to thank the mistress of the little bakery for the excellent meal he had enjoyed. "Well, you won't hurt on it," she said, smilingly; "it's plain, but it's wholesome. That's all we claim for it. Are you going on far?" "Yes, I'm bound for a pretty long tramp,"--he replied. "I'm walking to find friends in Cornwall." She opened her eyes in unfeigned wonder and compassion. "Deary me!" she ejaculated--"You've a stiff road before you. And to-day I'm afraid you'll be in for a storm." He glanced out through the shop-window. "It's not raining,"--he said. "Not yet,--but it's blowing hard,"--she replied--"And it's like to blow harder." "Never mind, I must risk it!" And he lifted his cap; "Good-day!" "Good-day! A safe journey to you!" "Thank you!"