CHAPTER VII.
An Early Train and a Morning's Amusement.
It was still early when he awoke, weary, stiff, and unrefreshed, but with a conviction in his mind that had grown plain and strong in the mysterious way notions sometimes seem to gather force in hours of unconsciousness, and surprise us with their mature vigor when we awake.
"I must go!" he kept muttering to himself; "I must go--go and think.

I dare do nothing now." He hastily packed a hand bag, wrote a note for Eugene, asking that the rest of his luggage might be forwarded to an address he would send, went quietly downstairs, and, finding the door just opened, passed out unseen.

He had three miles to walk to the station, but his restless feet brought him there quickly, and he had more than an hour to wait for the first train, at half-past eight.

He sat down on the platform and waited.

His capacity for thought and emotion seemed for the time exhausted.