l effort at revivification, but not for long. That her cousin
should be moody, listless and thoroughly unhinged, did not surprise
her, since the trials through which he had recently passed were
sufficient to have tried a more robust physique than his. She set
herself to interest and cheer him, and, at first, was in a measure
successful; for Thorne--always fond of Norma, observed her efforts and
exerted himself to a responsive cheerfulness, often feigning an
interest he was far from feeling, in order to avoid disappointing her.
But as he grew accustomed to her ministrations, the effort relaxed and
he fell into gloom and bitterness once more.

There was in the man a sense of wrong, as well as failure. Life had
dealt hardly with him--the bitterness had been wrung out to him to the
very dregs. In all things--whether his intentions had been noble or
ignoble, he had alike failed. He could not understand it. In his
eyes, the conduct of the two women whose influence had been potent in
his life, while springing from different causes, had resulted in the
same effect--uncompromising hardness toward _him_. The diverse
properties of the solutions had made no appreciable difference in the
crystallization.

His love for Pocahontas had suffered no diminution; rather, it had
increased. His longing for her presence, for her love, was so great at
times, that the thought would come to him to end the intolerable pain
by stopping forever the beating of the heart that would not break.

Her second refusal had been a cruel blow to him. He had seemed to
himself so patient, so tenderly considerate; he had made allowance for
the conservatism, the old world principles and prejudices amid which
she had been reared; he had given her time to weigh and consider and
plead. That the verdict should have gone against him, admitted, in his
mind, but of one conclusion--Pocahontas did not love him. Had she
loved him, she _must_ have proved responsive; love, as he understood
it, did not crucify itself for a principle; it was more prone to break
barriers than to erect them. And this point of hers was no principle;
it was, at noblest, an individual conscientious scruple, and to the man
of the world it appeared the narrowest of bigotry.

His mind slowly settled to the conviction that she had never loved him
as he had loved her--as he still loved her. Then began a change for
the worse. The doubt of her love begot other doubts--a grisly brood of
t