d with rare beauty and endless
charms. In the natural order of events she would become the mistress of
some rich man; might even, as at times happens, be rescued by marriage;
in either case, their acquaintance must cease. And, indeed, what right
had he to endeavour to gain her love having nothing but mere beggarly
devotion to offer her in return? He had not even the excuse of one who
could offer her married life in easy circumstances,--supposing that to
be an improvement on her present position. Would it not be better at
once to break off these impossible relations? How often he had promised
himself, in moments of clear thought, never again to enter on a course
which would obviously involve him in futile suffering. Why had he not
now the strength to obey his reason, and continue to possess his soul
in the calm of which he had enjoyed a brief taste?

The novel circumstances of the past week had almost driven from his
mind all thought of Maud Enderby. He regretted having asked and
obtained permission to write to her. She seemed so remote from him,
their meeting so long past. What could there be in common between
himself and that dim, quiet little girl, who had excited his sympathy
merely because her pretty face was made sad by the same torments which
had afflicted him? He needed some strong, vehement, original nature,
such as Ida Starr's; how would Maud's timid conventionality--doubtless
she was absolutely conventional--suit with the heresies of which he was
all compact? Still, he could not well ignore what had taken place
between them, and, after all, there would be a certain pleasant
curiosity in awaiting her reply. In any case, he would write just such
a letter as came naturally from him. If she were horrified, well, there
was an end of the matter.

Accordingly, he sat down on the morning after his visit to Ida, and,
after a little difficulty in beginning, wrote a long letter. It was
mainly occupied with a description of his experiences in Litany Lane
and Elm Court. He made no apology for detailing such unpleasant
matters, and explained that he would henceforth be kept in pretty close
connection with this unknown world. Even this, he asserted, was
preferable to the world of Dr. Tootle's Academy. Then he dwelt a little
on the contrast between this life of his and that which Maud was
doubtless leading in her home on the Essex coast; and finally he hoped
she would write to him when she found leisure, and be able to let h