arer to the earth. He would have known
that for a man to build up a doctrine of philosophy around himself,
hoping that the devil will keep on the other side of the paling, is as
ridiculous as it is to raise a stockade of roses against a tiger.

Herbert Courtland, however, thought neither of philosophical consistency
nor of the advantages of having on one's side a sound Principle. He
thought of the stockade of roses, not to keep out the beast but to keep
love in. They would live together in the midst of roses forever, and
though each might possibly lose something by the transaction, yet what
they might lose was nothing compared to what they should certainly win.
Of that he was certain, and therefore he posted his impassioned line
with a light heart.

That was on Tuesday. He had still two days that he might employ thinking
over the enterprise to which he was committed; and he certainly made the
most of his time in this direction. Now and again, as he thought of
what was in store for him--for her--he felt as if he were lifted off
the earth, and at other times he felt that he was crushed into the
earth--crushed into it until he had become incapable of any thought that
was not of the earth, earthy. At such moments he felt inclined to walk
down to the docks and step aboard the first vessel that was sailing
eastward or westward or northward or southward. Then it was that he
found but the scantiest comfort in the consideration of the loveliness
of love. Glorifying life! No, corrupting life until life is more putrid
than death.

That was what love was--something to fly from. But still he did not
fly from the vision that came to him when he found himself alone after
spending the evenings in brilliant company--a vision of the lovely woman
who was waiting for him! What had she said? Her soul--her soul would be
lost forevermore?

Well, that showed that she was a woman, at any rate, and he loved her
all the better for her womanliness. He knew very well that if God is a
Figure of Speech with men, the losing of a soul is a figure of speech
with women. The expression means only that they have lost the chance of
drinking a number of cups of tea in drawing rooms whose doors are now
shut to them. That was what Ella meant, no doubt. If she were openly to
set at defiance certain of those laws by the aid of which society
was kept together with a moderate degree of consistency, she would be
treated as an outlaw.

After all, such a fate w