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stocracy of noble men。 He was to have been one of those men； too fine and far…reaching for the dull manoeuvers of such politics as rule the world to…day。 The project seemed still large； still whitely noble； but now it was unlit and dead； and in the foreground he sat in the flat of Mrs。 Skelmersdale； feeling dissipated and fumbling with his white tie。 And she was looking tired。 〃God！〃 he said。 〃How did I get there？〃 And then suddenly he reached out his arms in the darkness and prayed aloud to the silences。 〃Oh； God！ Give me back my visions！ Give me back my visions！〃 He could have imagined he heard a voice calling upon him to come out into life； to escape from the body of this death。 But it was his own voice that called to him。 。 。 。
10
The need for action became so urgent in him； that he got right out of his bed and sat on the edge of it。 Something had to be done at once。 He did not know what it was but he felt that there could be no more sleep； no more rest； no dressing nor eating nor going forth before he came to decisions。 Christian before his pilgrimage began was not more certain of this need of flight from the life of routine and vanities。 What was to be done？ In the first place he must get away and think about it all； think himself clear of all thesethese immediacies； these associations and relations and holds and habits。 He must get back to his vision； get back to the God in his vision。 And to do that he must go alone。 He was clear he must go alone。 It was useless to go to Prothero； one weak man going to a weaker。 Prothero he was convinced could help him not at all； and the strange thing is that this conviction had come to him and had established itself incontestably because of that figure at the street corner； which had for just one moment resembled Prothero。 By some fantastic intuition Benham knew that Prothero would not only participate but excuse。 And he knew that he himself could endure no excuses。 He must cut clear of any possibility of qualification。 This thing had to be stopped。 He must get away； he must get free； he must get clean。 In the extravagance of his reaction Benham felt that he could endure nothing but solitary places and to sleep under the open sky。 He wanted to get right away from London and everybody and lie in the quiet darkness and stare up at the stars。 His plans grew so definite that presently he was in his dressing… gown and turning out the maps in the lower drawer of his study bureau。 He would go down into Surrey with a knapsack； wander along the North Downs until the Guildford gap was reached； strike across the Weald country to the South Downs and then beat eastward。 The very thought of it brought a coolness to his mind。 He knew that over those southern hills one could be as lonely as in the wilderness and as free to talk to God。 And there he would settle something。 He would make a plan for his life and end this torment。 When Merkle came in to him in the morning he was fast asleep。 The familiar curtain rings awakened Benham。 He turned his head over； stared for a moment and then remembered。 〃Merkle；〃 he said； 〃I am going for a walking tour。 I am going off this morning。 Haven't I a rucksack？〃 〃You ‘ave a sort of canvas bag； sir； with pockets to it；〃 said Merkle。 〃Will you be needing the VERY ‘eavy boots with ‘obnails Swiss； I fancy； siror your ordinary shooting boots？〃 〃And when may I expect you back； sir？〃 asked Merkle as the moment for departure drew near。 〃God knows；〃 said Benham； 〃I don't。〃 〃Then will there be any address for forwarding letters； sir？〃 Benham hadn't thought of that。 For a moment he regarded Merkle's scrupulous respect with a transient perplexity。 〃I'll let you know； Merkle；〃 he said。 〃I'll let you know。〃 For some days at least； notes； telephone messages； engagements； all this fuss and clamour about nothing； should clamour for him in vain。 。 。 。
11
〃But how closely；〃 cried White； in a mood of cultivated enthusiasm； 〃how closely must all the poor little stories that we tell to…day follow in the footsteps of the Great Exemplars！ A little while ago and the springtime freshness of Tobias irradiated the page。 Now see！ it is Christian。〃 Indeed it looked extremely like Christian as Benham went up across the springy turf from Epsom Downs station towards the crest of the hill。 Was he not also fleeing in the morning sunlight from the City of Destruction？ Was he not also seeking that better city whose name is Peace？ And there was a bundle on his back。 It was the bundle； I think； that seized most firmly upon the too literary imagination of White。 But the analogy of the bundle was a superficial one。 Benham had not the slightest desire to lose it from his shoulders。 It would have inconvenienced him very greatly if he had done so。 It did not contain his sins。 Our sins nowadays are not so easily separated。 It contained a light； warm cape…coat he had bought in Switzerland and which he intended to wrap about him when he slept under the stars； and in addition Merkle had packed it with his silk pyjamas； an extra pair of stockings； tooth…brush； brush and comb； a safety razor。 。 。 。 And there were several sheets of the Ordnance map。
12
The urgency of getting away from something dominated Benham to the exclusion of any thought of what he might be getting to。 That muddle of his London life had to be left behind。 First； escape。 。 。 。 Over the downs great numbers of larks were singing。 It was warm April that year and early。 All the cloud stuff in the sky was gathered into great towering slow…sailing masses； and the rest was blue of the intensest。 The air was so clean that Benham felt it clean in the substance of his body。 The chestnuts down the hill to the right were flowering； the beeches were luminously green； and the oaks in the valley foaming gold。 And sometimes it was one lark filled his ears； and sometimes he seemed to be hearing all the larks for miles about him。 Presently over the crest he would be out of sight of the grand stand and the men exercising horses； and that brace of red…jacketed golfers。 。 。 。 What was he to do？ For a time he could think of nothing to do except to keep up and out of the valley。 His whole being seemed to have come to his surfaces to look out at the budding of the year and hear the noise of the birds。 And then he got into a long road from which he had to escape； and trespassing southward through plantations he reached the steep edge of the hills and sat down over above a great chalk pit somewhere near Dorking and surveyed all the tumbled wooded spaces of the Weald。 。 。 。 It is after all not so great a country this Sussex； nor so hilly； from deepest valley to highest crest is not six hundred feet； yet what a greatness of effect it can achieve！ There is something in those downland views which； like sea views； lifts a mind out to the skies。 All England it seemed was there to Benham's vision； and the purpose of the English； and his own purpose in the world。 For a long time he surveyed the large delicacy of the detail before him； the crests； the tree…protected houses； the fields and farmsteads； the distant gleams of water。 And then he became interested in the men who were working in the chalk pit down below。 They at any rate were not troubled with the problem of what to do with their lives。
13
Benham found his mind was now running clear； and so abundantly that he could scarcely； he felt； keep pace with it。 As he thought his flow of ideas was tinged with a fear that he might forget what he was thinking。 In an instant； for the first time in his mental existence； he could have imagined he had discovered Labour and seen it plain。 A little while ago and he had seemed a lonely man among the hills； but indeed he was not lonely； these men had been with him all the time； and he was free to wander； to sit here； to think and choose simply because those men down there were not free。 HE WAS SPENDING THEIR LEISURE。 。 。 。 Not once but many times with Prothero had he used the phrase RICHESSE OBLIGE。 Now he remembered it。 He began to remember a mass of ideas that had been overlaid and stifling within him。 This was what Merkle and the club servants and the entertainments and engagements and his mother and the artistic touts and the theatrical touts and the hunting and the elaboration of games andMrs。 Skelmersdale and all that had clustered thickly round him in London had been hiding from him。 Those men below there had not been trusted to choose their work； they had been given it。 And he had been trusted。 。 。 。 And now to grapple with it！ Now to get it clear！ What work was he going to do？ That settled； he would deal with his distractions readily enough。 Until that was settled he was lax and exposed to every passing breeze of invitation。 〃What work am I going to do？ What work am I going to do？〃 He repeated it。 It is the only question for the aristocrat。 What amusement？ That for a footman on holiday。 That for a silly child； for any creature that is kept or led or driven。 That perhaps for a tired invalid； for a toiler worked to a rag。 But able…bodied amusement！ The arms of Mrs。 Skelmersdale were no worse than the solemn aimlessness of hunting； and an evening of dalliance not an atom more reprehensible