It was by no intention of his that he rested at that identical place.

Night was drawing on; and, in making, as he thought, a short cut, he had missed his way, and was fain to seek shelter where he might find it.

But it brought him very straight face to face with his life at that time, and ever since.

His mad, wild hopes--half the result of intoxication, as he now knew--all dead and gone; the career then freshly opening shut up against him now; his youthful strength and health changed into premature infirmity, and the home and the love that should have opened wide its doors to console him for all, why in two years Death might have been busy, and taken away from him his last feeble chance of the faint happiness of seeing his beloved without being seen or known of her.

All that night and all the next day, the fear of Sylvia's possible death overclouded his heart.