so much, sir;' said Harold after a pause, 'and I thank you
earnestly and honestly. But it is impossible.'

'Oh, my dear sir!' said the other, chagrined as well as surprised. 'Think
again! It is really worth your while to think of it, no matter what your
ultimate decision may be!'

Harold shook his head. There was a long silence. The old man wished to
give his companion time to think; and indeed he thought that Harold was
weighing the proposition in his mind. As for Harold, he was thinking how
best he could make his absolute refusal inoffensive. He must, he felt,
give some reason; and his thoughts were bent on how much of the truth he
could safely give without endangering his secret. Therefore he spoke at
last in general terms:

'I can only ask you, sir, to bear with me and to believe that I am very
truly and sincerely grateful to you for your trust. But the fact is, I
cannot go anywhere amongst people. Of course you understand that I am
speaking in confidence; to you alone and to none other?'

'Absolutely!' said Mr. Stonehouse gravely. Harold went on:

'I must be alone. I can only bear to see people on this ship because it
is a necessary way to solitude.'

'You "cannot go anywhere amongst people"! Pardon me. I don't wish to be
unduly inquisitive; but on my word I fail to understand!' Harold was in
a great difficulty. Common courtesy alone forbade that he should leave
the matter where it was; and in addition both the magnificently generous
offer which had been made to him, and the way in which accident had
thrown him to such close intimacy with Pearl's family, required that he
should be at least fairly frank. At last in a sort of cold desperation
he said:

'I cannot meet anyone . . . There it something that happened . . .
Something I did . . . Nothing can make it right . . . All I can do is to
lose myself in the wildest, grimmest, wilderness in the world; and fight
my pain . . . my shame . . . !'

A long silence. Then the old man's voice came clear and sweet, something
like music, in the shelter from the storm:

'But perhaps time may mend things. God is very good . . . !' Harold
answered out of the bitterness of his heart. He felt that his words were
laden with an anger which he did not feel, but he did not see his way to
alter them:

'Nothing can mend this thing! It is at the farthest point of evil; and
there is no going on or coming back. Nothing can wipe out what is done;
what is pa