232 THE CHANGE 

 faltered. Then, when I determined to 

 crave her pity, I found she had gone away 

 to Devon with her father. I wrote a bitter 

 letter to her and left my home. I never 

 wrote again to Louise, nor did she write to 

 me. Not for a year. Then she wrote to 

 me. And I came back. I was already a 

 changed man. Her letter was short, and 

 in it she said that she wished and prayed 

 for my happiness. I came back humbly 

 to see her " 



He put a shaky hand up to his forehead, 

 wet with moisture. His anguish was un- 

 bearable. I looked away to the yellow 

 houses with their blue-gray roofs of slate; 

 another tram passed in the High Street. 



" She had died," he muttered. " Little 

 sweet Louise had pined away and become 

 ill. One day she got wet through and 

 developed rapid consumption. She was 

 only eighteen a child. They said it was 

 consumption, but I knew better. / killed 

 her. I, the self-flaunted idealist, my eyes 



