icles
of the unformulated creed which directed his actions. His optimism was
of youth and superficial, but the sense of the brotherhood of human
suffering touched his heart in a way that made compassion and tenderness
appear to him to be the highest and simplest of duties. It was Ida's
temper that answered his avowal. Still staring at him she burst into
loud laughter, and as he turned away her tuneless mirth grew shriller
and shriller till it became hysterical. A frightened effort to regain
her self-control, and her voice broke in something like a sob, while
tears trembled on her lashes. The Professor's head was bent over
his desk and he saw nothing. Ida dashed the tears from her eyes
ostentatiously, and walked with shaking limbs out of the room. She would
have liked to laugh again scornfully before closing the door, but she
dared not trust her nerves. From that moment she tried to hate Professor
Roberts as she hated May Hutchings, for her disappointment had been very
sore, and the hurt to her pride smarted like a burn. On returning home,
she told her father that she had taken her name off the books of the
University; she meant to be an actress, and a degree could be of no use
to her in her new career. Her father did not oppose her openly; he was
content to postpone any decisive step, and in a few days she seemed to
have abandoned her project. But time brought no mitigation of her spite.
She was tenacious by nature, and her jealous rage came back upon her in
wild fits. To be outdone by May Hutchings was intolerable. Besides, the
rivalry and triumphs of the class-room had been as the salt of life to
her; now she had nothing to do, nothing to occupy her affections or give
object to her feverish ambition. And the void of her life she laid to
the charge of Roberts. So when the time came and the temptation, she
struck as those strike who are tortured by pain.

Alone in her room, she justified to herself what she had done. She
thought with pleasure of Professor Roberts' approaching defeat
and punishment. "He deserves it, and more! He knows why I left the
University; drew myself away from him for ever. What does he care for my
suffering? He can't leave me in peace. I wasn't good enough for him, and
my father isn't honest enough. Oh, that I were a man! I'd teach him that
it was dangerous to insult the wretched.

"How I was mistaken in him! He has no delicacy, no true manliness of
character. I'm glad he has thrown down the chal