Down in the glen men were winning the bog-hay; up on the hill slopes they were driving lambs; the Avelin hurried to the Gled, and beyond was the great ocean and the infinite works of man.

The whole brave bustling world was astir, little and great ships hasting out of port, the soldier scaling the breach, the adventurer travelling the deserts.

And he, the fool, had no share in this braggart heritage.

He could not dare to look a man straight in the face, for like the king in the old fable he had lost his soul..