Hilliard himself, with the sea wind in his nostrils, recovered that temper of buoyant satisfaction which had accompanied his first escape from London.

He despised the weak misgivings and sordid calculations of yesterday.

Here he was, on a Channel steamer, bearing away from disgrace and wretchedness the woman whom his heart desired.

Wild as the project had seemed to him when first he conceived it, he had put it into execution.

The moment was worth living for.