"I'm walking." The man touched his hat, the carriage drove off, and Trent, with a grim smile upon his lips, walked along the dusty road.

Soon he paused before a little white gate marked private, and, unlocking it with a key which he took from his pocket, passed through a little plantation into a large park-like field.

He took off his hat and fanned himself thoughtfully as he walked.

The one taste which his long and absorbing struggle with the giants of Capel Court had never weakened was his love for the country.
He lifted his head to taste the breeze which came sweeping across from the Surrey Downs, keenly relishing the fragrance of the new-mown hay and the faint odour of pines from the distant dark-crested hill.

As he came up the field towards the house he looked with pleasure upon the great bed of gorgeous-coloured rhododendrons which bordered his lawn, the dark cedars which drooped over the smooth shaven grass, and the faint flush of colour from the rose-gardens beyond.