This sharp ascent was about as much as he could manage, taking it easily. There is no great practice in hill-climbing to be had at the East-End. Jean's quick eyes noted the occasional pauses, which were not only for admiration of the scene. He had lost his healthy tan, gaining instead a fixed paleness; but the face at twenty-nine was handsomer than at twenty-two. It had grown finer and more refined. The nobility of deep thought and the purity of self-abnegation shone through every feature.
Seven years since he had walked through this gorge.
The former time was vividly present with Jem. He found himself unexpectedly haunted by recollections of the fair girl, whom he had last seen here. Seven years at his age are a considerable slice out of a lifetime; and Jem had long ago risen out of the despair into which he was plunged by Evelyn's engagement to General Villiers. He could look back now, with a kind compassion, to his own misery of mind at that time, almost as to the misery of another person; and he could feel a friendly interest in Evelyn's welfare. He had ceased to dream of her in connection with himself. His life was full of thought, full of work; it was a life entirely devoted to the good of others; and so of necessity it was a joyous life.
Yet somehow he had never managed to fall in love a second time. Evelyn Devereux had been his first and only love. That one short episode had tinged his whole being. Evelyn Devereux, his love, was dead; but Evelyn Villiers would always be to him "a bright particular star."
All these seven years he had not been to Dulveriford. At first he had purposely stayed away, in dread of associations, in dread still more of seeing Evelyn, and so renewing the misery of loss. Later, he had not been free to come.
During five years past he had toiled, with every power of mind and body, in a great East-End Parish, rising to the position of Senior Curate—a man esteemed and beloved by all who knew him. He was in touch with his brother clergy, in touch with the working men around, in touch with the mothers, the children, the sick, the poor. Dominated in his uttermost being by the love of Christ, intensely loving and lovable himself, he won the love of others, and through their love for him, he led them to a nobler life, a life of service to the Muster whom he served. But the doing of this meant no easy-chair existence.
Offers of livings had come to him, not once or twice only. Jem was, however, in no haste to change. He delighted in his present sphere; and he cared little for advancement.
Once a year, generally in spring or early summer, he went for a month to Scotland, to recruit his much-tasked energies. At other times he could seldom be spared; and when he had a few days, his mother wanted him. Two or three times he had met the Trevelyans of Dulveriford in Scotland, when his holiday had happened to coincide with that of Mr. Trevelyan: but Dulveriford, he had not seen, declining all invitations.
This year his annual change had, from one cause or another, proved less successful than usual; and the advent of hot weather knocked him down. Jem struggled on till August; then doctor and friends insisted on another rest. An invitation from Dulveriford Rectory, coming at the right moment, was accepted.
Jem had not known, till after his arrival, that General and Mrs. Villiers were at home again. The knowledge would have made no difference as to his coming; for he counted himself completely cured of that long past suffering, able even to smile over it. Yet, walking through the glen once more, amid the surroundings of golden water, flecked leaf-shadows, sunshine and rocks, Jem experienced something like a transient revival of the old pain. He seemed to see Evelyn's face at every turn; to meet again the fringed black-blue eyes turned full upon him in wondering delight.