It was better wholly to give up the attempt, and resign himself to the gloom that brooded over him, shutting out the future.

That airy castle of his--the villa on the banks of the Thames--seemed to have faded and vanished altogether.

He could not look beyond the Australian journey to the happy time of his return.

The hazards of time and distance bewildered him.

He felt an unspeakable dread of the distance that was to divide him from Marian Nowell--a dread that grew stronger with every hour.