"But bring him back," she cried, with a real passion. "So much depends on his return, for Millie, for him, and for me, too. Yes, for me! If you fail, it is I who fail; and I don't want failure. Save me from it!" "I'll try," Warrisden answered simply; and Pamela was satisfied. Much depended, for Warrisden too, upon the success of his adventure. If he failed, Pamela would retire again behind her barrier; she would again resume the passive, indifferent attitude of the very old; she would merely look on as before and wait for things to cease. If, however, he succeeded, she would be encouraged to move forward still; the common sympathies would have her in their grasp again; she might even pass that turnpike gate of friendship and go boldly down the appointed road of life. Thus success meant much for him. The fortunes of the four people--Millicent, Tony, Pamela, and Warrisden--were knotted together at this one point. "Indeed, I'll try," he repeated, Pamela's horse was brought round to the inn door. The dusk was coming on. "Which way do you go?" asked Warrisden. "Down the hill." "I will walk to the bottom with you. The road will be dangerous." They went slowly down between the high elder hedges, Pamela seated on her horse, Warrisden walking by her side. The wide level lowlands opened out beneath them--fields of brown and green, black woods with swinging boughs, and the broad high road with its white wood rails. A thin mist swirled across the face of the country in the wind, so that its every feature was softened and magnified. It loomed dim and strangely distant, with a glamour upon it like a place of old romance. To Pamela and Warrisden, as the mists wove and unwove about it, it had a look of dreamland. They reached the end of the incline, and Pamela stopped her horse. "This is my way," said she, pointing along the highway with her whip. "Yes," answered Warrisden. The road ran straight for some distance, then crossed a wooden bridge and curved out of sight round the edge of a clump of trees. "The new road," he said softly. "The new road from Quetta to Seistan!" Pamela smiled. "This is Quetta," said she. Warrisden laid his hand upon her horse's neck, and looked suddenly up into her face. "Where will be Seistan?" he asked in a low voice. Pamela returned the look frankly. There came a softness into her dark eyes. For a moment she let her hand rest lightly upon his sleeve, and did not speak. She herself was wondering how far she was to travel upon this new road. "I cannot tell," she said very gently. "Nor, my friend, can you. Only"--and her voice took on a lighter and a whimsical tone-"only I start alone on my new road." And she went forward into the level country. Warrisden climbed the hill again, and turned when he had reached the top; but Pamela was out of sight. The dusk and the mists had enclosed her. CHAPTER X MR. CHASE