CHAPTER V.
THE WOMAN AND THE MAN.
Quite unaware that Destiny, that tireless spinner, was weaving sinister red threads of hate and love into the web of his life, Lambert continued to live quietly in his woodland retreat.

In a somewhat misanthropic frame of mind he had retired to this hermitage, after the failure of his love affair, since, lacking the society of Agnes, there was nothing left for him to desire.

From a garden of roses, the world became a sandy desert, and denied the sole gift of fortune, which would have made him completely happy, the disconsolate lover foreswore society for solitude.
As some seek religion, so Lambert hoped by seeking Nature's breast to assuage the pains of his sore heart.

But although the great Mother could do so much, she could not do all, and the young man still felt restless and weary.

Hard work helped him more than a little, but he had his dark hours during those intervals when hand and brain were too weary to create pictures.
In one way he blamed Agnes, because she had married for money; in another way he did not blame her, because that same money had been necessary to support the falling fortunes of the noble family to which Lambert belonged.