Possibly--quite likely--in the excitement of the evening's proceedings she had felt an impulse to do something more for the mission cause than she had done hitherto. That was it, no doubt. Well, they could do with Miss Arnot's assistance. Funds were never too ample for the work that cried aloud to be done. He was evidently expected. The maid led him along the hall, through green baize doors, down a passage, into the library, a beautiful and cosy room such as he had imagined wealthy people might possibly possess, if, in addition to all their other possessions, they possessed a love of books. It overlooked the garden and the Park, and was as bright and secluded a little holy of holies as the most devoted worshipper of the sacred flame might desire. The Island Mission houses were--not exactly geographically perhaps, but in every other attribute and particular--the absolute antipodes and antithesis of this charming little sanctum. The walls were lined with bookcases full of richly bound books, the table was strewn with books and magazines, among which, and queening it over them all, stood a great night-blue bowl of white lilac, filling the room with the perfume of the spring. There was a cheerful little fire of mixed peat and logs on a flat hearth, with brass dogs and chains. A sudden whiff of the peat, as he passed the hearth, carried him in an instant back into his boyhood. He glanced at the bountiful shelves, with the hungry look of the student whose pocket had never at any time been able to keep pace with his appetite. For knowledge of books is good, and possession of books is good, but knowledge and possession combined are still much better. He was standing looking out into the garden whence the lilac had come, when Miss Arnot came quietly in. He turned and bowed. He had made up his mind to hold himself tightly, but her welcoming hand drew forth his own, and carried his first line of defence in a walk-over. "It was good of you to come," she said impulsively, "and I thank you. I know your time is very short, and you must have much to do." "Yes, there is much to do," he said very quietly. "But I am grateful to you for, at all events, affording me another opportunity of thanking you in person----" But she stopped him with a peremptory little hand. How beautiful she was, with her wistful face and commanding little ways! There was even more than usual of strenuous inquiry in those shining eyes of hers. "You are going back on the first of May?" Her speech was more rapid than usual. He saw that she was excited. Probably the remembrance of last night's meeting still held her, he thought. "Yes, on the first of May. And then----I hardly think it likely I shall ever return to England." "But why?" she jerked, in her old, quick, want-to-know way. "Well--you see--I really feel as if I had no right to be here at all. By rights I ought to be lying under a cairn on the beach of Dark Island."