Now I know good and evil, and am a sadder and wiser man." And then he went on doggedly; but he stopped again before he reached the gate of the Wood House, for he knew intuitively that he had stumbled into the little path leading to the woodlands.

He strained his eyes through the darkness, but could see nothing-only the chill, damp October wind played round him, and the smell of moist earth and decaying vegetation filled his nostrils.
"Change and decay in all around I see," he thought heavily; but as he turned away and crossed the road a sudden remembrance came to him and made him giddy.
It was morning or early afternoon, he forgot which, and the sunshine was filtering through the firs, and steeping his senses with the warm, resinous perfume--"spices of Araby," he had called it to himself, for he loved the scent above all things.

He had clambered up the bank to pick some honeysuckle, and then the little gate had clanged on its hinges, and he had peeped through the brambles to see who was coming.
And of course he knew who it was--that tall, robust young woman in the white sun-bonnet who came down the path swinging her arms slightly, but with the free proud step of an empress.

"Elizabeth, Elizabeth!" he had whispered even then, and all the manhood within him seemed to welcome her gracious presence.

Poor fool--poor blind fool that he was! Perhaps it was as well that Malcolm stumbled over the root of a tree at that moment; the rude shock roused him.
"It is a blessing I have not sprained my ankle," he said to himself; but he had struck his foot rather severely and limped on with difficulty.