The sea hummed at the foot of the chine, with that soft and dove-like purring of the South-coast sea; the doves made answer with a vibrant cooing in the middle distance of the twilight garden. Spring buds of pear-trees and cherry-trees globed themselves stealthily into blossom; a delicate latent energy was consciously present in the air—the rising of sap and revivification of seed, all the mysterious hidden progresses of April. And the man whose ways were set in a perpetual convergence towards the doors of death, waved, so to speak, a blithe recognition to the myriad hosts of life.
"O toiling hands of mortals! O unwearied feet, travelling ye know not whither! Soon, soon, it seems to you, you must come forth on some conspicuous hilltop, and but a little way further, against the setting sun, descry the spires of El Dorado. Little do ye know your own blessedness; for to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive, and the true success is labour." (Virginibus Puerisque.)
The author desires to acknowledge the kindness of Messrs. Cassell & Co., in allowing short extracts to be made from The Master of Ballantrae, The Wrecker, and Catriona; also to thank Mr. William Heinemann for a similar courtesy with regard to St. Ives, and Messrs. Chatto & Windus for their permission to include various quotations from Virginibus Puerisque, Underwoods, and Prince Otto.
Printed by The Bushey Colour Press (André & Sleigh, Ltd.),
Bushey, Herts., England.
Rear cover