room behind the Embassy
it seemed to him as if, by some frightful exertion of his will, he were
wading with incredible slowness out to sea, over endless flats in
inch-deep water, which after an interminable journey would be deep
enough to drown him at last.

The nausea and horror of this slow death were upon him. Nevertheless, he
meant to move towards it. And where Michael's eye was fixed there his
foot followed. He was not of those who rend themselves by violent
conflict. If he had ever been asked to give his reason for any action of
his life, from the greatest to the smallest, he would have looked at the
questioner in mild surprise, and would have said: "It was the only thing
to do."

To him vacillation and doubt were unknown. A certain wisdom could never
be his, for he saw no alternatives. He never balanced two courses of
action against each other.

"There were no two ways about it," he said to his godfather, the Bishop
of Lostford, respecting a decision where there were several
alternatives, which he had endeavoured to set before Michael with
impartiality. But Michael saw only one course, and took it.

And now again he only saw one course, and he meant to take it. He
sickened under it, but his mind was made up. Fay's letter which duly
reached him only made him suffer. It did not alter his determination to
go. Certainly, he would see her again, if she desired it so intensely,
and had something vitally important to tell him, though he disliked the
suggestion of a clandestine meeting. Still it was Fay's suggestion, and
Fay could do no wrong. But he knew that nothing she could do or say,
nothing new that she could spring upon him would have power to shake his
decision to leave Rome on Friday. _It was the only thing to do._

CHAPTER IV

L'on fait plus souvent des trahisons par faiblesse que
par un dessein forme de trahir.--LA ROCHEFOUCAULD.

Fay's evening-party was a success. Her parties generally were. It was a
small gathering, for as it was May but few of the residents had come
down to the villas. Some of the guests had motored out from Rome. My
impression is that Fay enjoyed the evening. She certainly enjoyed the
brilliancy which excitement had momentarily added to her beauty.

All the time she was saying to herself, "If people only knew. What a
contrast between what these people think and what I really am. Perhaps
this is the last time I shall have a party here. Perhaps I shall not be
here