ever
since the days of Solomon, who probably had very good reasons for
putting him there."

Horace next asked himself whether he was bound in honour to disclose the
facts to Mr. Wackerbath, and give him the opportunity of withdrawing
from the agreement if he thought fit.

On the whole, he saw no necessity for telling him anything; the only
possible result would be to make his client suspect his sanity; and who
would care to employ an insane architect? Then, if he retired from the
undertaking without any explanations, what could he say to Sylvia? What
would Sylvia's father say to _him_? There would certainly be an end to
his engagement.

After all, he had not been to blame; the Wackerbaths were quite
satisfied. He felt perfectly sure that he could justify their selection
of him; he would wrong nobody by accepting the commission, while he
would only offend them, injure himself irretrievably, and lose all hope
of gaining Sylvia if he made any attempt to undeceive them.

And Fakrash was gone, never to return. So, on all these considerations,
Horace decided that silence was his only possible policy, and, though
some moralists may condemn his conduct as disingenuous and wanting in
true moral courage, I venture to doubt whether any reader, however
independent, straightforward, and indifferent to notoriety and ridicule,
would have behaved otherwise in Ventimore's extremely delicate and
difficult position.

Some days passed, every working hour of which was spent by Horace in the
rapture of creation. To every man with the soul of an artist in him
there comes at times--only too seldom in most cases--a revelation of
latent power that he had not dared to hope for. And now with Ventimore
years of study and theorising which he had often been tempted to think
wasted began to bear golden fruit. He designed and drew with a rapidity
and originality, a sense of perfect mastery of the various problems to
be dealt with, and a delight in the working out of mass and detail, so
intoxicating that he almost dreaded lest he should be the victim of some
self-delusion.

His evenings were of course spent with the Futvoyes, in discovering
Sylvia in some new and yet more adorable aspect. Altogether, he was very
much in love, very happy, and very busy--three states not invariably
found in combination.

And, as he had foreseen, he had effectually got rid of Fakrash, who was
evidently too engrossed in the pursuit of Solomon to think of anything