The words struck upon a chord of memory.

Sybil Linforth sat upright, turned to her sort and greatly surprised him.

He had expected an appeal, a prayer.

What he heard was something which raised her higher in his thoughts than ever she had been, high though he had always placed her.
"Dick," she said, "I have never said a word to dissuade you, have I?
Never a word?
Never a single word ?" and her tone besought him to assure her.
"Never a word, mother," he replied.
But still she was not content.
"When you were a boy, when the Road began to take hold on you--when we were much together, playing cricket out there in the garden," and her voice broke upon the memory of those golden days, "when I might have been able, perhaps, to turn you to other thoughts, I never tried to, Dick?
Own to that! I never tried to.

When I came upon you up on the top of the Down behind the house, lying on the grass, looking out--always--always towards the sea--oh, I knew very well what it was that was drawing you; but I said nothing, Dick.