part could have
only one explanation. Either she pitied him, and would write to prevent
his despair, or she was indignant, and would tell him so, or else she
held him in such contempt that she would not trouble herself to take the
slightest notice of his effusion. He craved for her indignation now as
he had craved for her sympathy before; but he could not endure her
indifference.

A man of five-and-thirty whose youth has been spent amongst the prodigal
sons and daughters of the world's great family, who has wasted his moral
patrimony, and served masters and mistresses whom he despised, is not
easily brought to believe that he can be happy again in the love of a
pure woman. He has lost confidence in his own romantic feelings, and in
his power to satisfy the higher needs of a woman's delicate and exacting
heart. Usually, as was once the case with Walcott, he is a cynic and a
professed despiser of women, affecting to judge them all by the few whom
he has met, in spite of the fact that he has put himself in the way of
knowing only the weakest and giddiest of the sex. But when such a man,
gradually and with difficulty, has found a pearl among women, gentle and
true, intellectual yet tenderly human, with whom his instinct tells him
he might spend the rest of his life in honor and peace, he is ready in
the truest sense to go and sell all that he has in order to secure the
prize. Nothing has any further value for him in comparison with her, and
all the roots of his nature lay firm hold upon her. Alas for this man if
his mature love is given in vain, or if, like Alan Walcott, he is
debarred from happiness by self-imposed fetters which no effort can
shake off!

For four-and-twenty hours he struggled with his misery. Then, to his
indescribable joy, there came a message from Lettice.

It was very short, and it brought him bad news; but at any rate it
proved that she took an interest in his welfare, and made him
comparatively happy.

"I think you should hear"--so it began, without any introductory
phrase--'that the story you told me of what happened at
Aix-les-Bains is known to men in this country who cannot be your
friends, since they relate it in their own fashion at their clubs,
and add their own ill-natured comments. Perhaps if you are
forewarned you will be fore-armed.

"Lettice Campion."

Not a word as to his letter; but he was not much troubled on this score.
That she had written to