ker or stronger, but, on the whole, constantly growing,
that Agnes and I are unsuited to each other. I am too much accustomed to
this idea to feel pain at it."

"O, it makes my heart ache--I mean so much painfulness for every one
concerned!"

"This conviction must, sooner or later, lead me to action. The world is
indulgent to the impetuous, because they appear strong; and it is most
severe to those who hesitate, because hesitation is taken for a sign of
weakness. Lookers-on have no patience with moral combats--and least of
all in affairs of this kind. But no opinion will force me to do what I
do not think right. If our engagement is a mistake, I don't intend to
'lump it,' as they say. We must mend the evil. And, thank God, it is not
too late. The merciful part is that in relieving my own mind I shall
also greatly relieve hers. It is clear she doesn't love me. This last
act proves the fact conclusively."

Pensee did not agree with this, but she remained silent, fearing lest a
rash word should spoil her good work.

"For a long, long time," he continued, "my constant question has been,
'Can this last? is it a delusion?' But I do not shut my eyes now. I knew
they were all wrong at home when they made out that she was in love with
me, and expected me to propose. We are both the victims of an
impertinent, if well-meant, interference--what Robert calls 'the
jabbering of the damned.' Poor Robert, we are forgetting him. I am
ashamed to talk so much about myself."

"In his case, I see no help but resignation to the will of God," said
Pensee.

"But that resignation is an awful thing," said Reckage. "It is a shade
better than the atheism of despair; yet only a shade better."

By degrees Pensee was learning why Robert had such a strong, tenacious
attachment to this man. He was always faithful to his mood. All he did
and all he said represented accurately all he thought and all he felt.
Some live a dual life--he lived but one; and, with his faults,
peculiarities, and egoism, there was never the least dissimulation. It
was true that, if occasion required, he could hold his tongue; but he
abhorred tact and hated doctrines of expediency--everything, in fact,
which put any restraint upon the "development of his inclinations."

The train was now approaching Dover. He decided to put his own troubles
aside, and, out of mere decency, concentrate his thoughts on the severe
trial in store for Orange.

"This business about Parflete,"