He seemed to be drifting away from his
former life, into a strange world of his own. He lost all interest in
his surroundings. To him, the world was getting empty and barren and
cold.
The former beautiful valley was a prison. The hills in which his boyhood
had been spent lost all their loveliness. How foolish, anyway, he began
to think, to always live in a narrow valley, and never know anything of
the broad world without. Surely the soul will grow small in such
conditions.
Early that spring, Rupert packed his possessions in a bundle which he
tied behind the saddle on his horse and bade good-bye to his friends.
"Where are you going, Rupe?" they asked.
But his answer was always, "I don't know."
VIII.
"No chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous:
nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of
righteousness unto them that are exercised
thereby."--_Heb. 12:11_.
Rupert Ames had ridden all day, resting only at noon to permit his horse
to graze.
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