For what good was it to pursue one whom he must never find again?
She was gone from him forever.
He was a young man yet, and she still younger.

But for his folly and crime a long and prosperous life might have stretched before them, each year knitting their hearts and souls more closely together; and he had forfeited all.

He turned back up the valley broken-hearted.
Later in the day he stood beside the grave of the man who was bearing away his name from disgrace.

The funeral had been hurried on, and the stranger was buried in a neglected part of the churchyard, being friendless and a heretic.

It was quickly done, and when the few persons who had taken part in it were dispersed, Roland Sefton lingered alone beside the desolate grave..