horribly unlike the happy eyes he had adored, he
could not bear the sight of them and turned away
pale as death. After that he scarcely ever saw
him except when he was asleep, and all he knew
of him was that he was a confirmed invalid, with
a vicious, hysterical, half-insane temper. He could
only be kept from furies dangerous to himself by
being given his own way in every detail.

All this was not an uplifting thing to recall, but
as the train whirled him through mountain passes
and golden plains the man who was "coming
alive" began to think in a new way and he thought
long and steadily and deeply.

"Perhaps I have been all wrong for ten years,"
he said to himself. "Ten years is a long time.
It may be too late to do anything -- quite too
late. What have I been thinking of!"

Of course this was the wrong Magic -- to begin
by saying "too late." Even Colin could have
told him that. But he knew nothing of Magic --
either black or white. This he had yet to learn.
He wondered if Susan Sowerby had taken courage
and written to him only because the motherly creature
had realized that the boy was much worse --
was fatally ill. If he had not been under the
spell of the curious calmness which had taken
possession of him he would have been more wretched
than ever. But the calm had brought a sort of
courage and hope with it. Instead of giving way

[[364]]

p363 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p364w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p365

v?