e will to live, he felt
creeping upon him, like sleep upon tired eyelids, all the sweet and
suasive fascination of death. "How little," he thought, "does any man
know of any other man's soul. Who among my friends would believe that
I, in all my intense joys and desire of life, am perhaps, at heart,
the saddest man, and perhaps sigh for death more ardently, and am
tempted to cull the dark fruit which hangs so temptingly over the
wall of the garden of life more ardently than any one?"

A few days after, his neighbour, Lord Spennymoor, called, and his
visit was followed by an invitation to dinner. The invitation was
accepted. Mike was on his best behaviour. During dinner he displayed
as much reserve as his nature allowed him to, but afterwards,
yielding to the solicitations of the women, he abandoned himself, and
when twelve o'clock struck they were still gathered round him,
listening to him with rapt expression, as if in hearing of delightful
music. Awaking suddenly to a sense of the hour and his indiscretion,
he bade Lord Spennymoor, who had sat talking all night with his
brother in a far corner, good-night.

When the sound of the wheels of his trap died away, when the ladies
had retired, Lord Spennymoor returned to the smoking-room, and at the
end of a long silence asked his brother, who sat smoking opposite
him, what he thought of Fletcher.

"He is one of those men who attract women, who attract nine people
out of ten.... Call it magnetism, electro-biology, give it what name
you will. The natural sciences----"

"Never mind the natural sciences. Do you think that either of my
girls were--Victoria, for instance, was attracted by him? I don't
believe for a moment his story of having saved Lady Seeley from
drowning in Italy, but I'm bound to say he told it very well. I can
see the girls sitting round him listening. Poor Mrs. Dickens, her
eyes were----"

"I shan't ask her here again.... But tell me, do you think he'll
marry?"

"It would be very hard to say what will become of him. He may
suddenly weary of women and become a woman-hater, or perhaps he may
develop into a sort of Baron Hulot. He spoke about his writings--he
may become ambitious, and spend his life writing epics.... He may go
mad! He seemed interested in politics, he may go into Parliament; I
fancy he would do very well in Parliament. A sudden loathing of
civilization may come upon him and send him to Africa or the Arctic
Regions. A man's end is always