demned to death. I try to face it like
a man and a gentleman. I make my arrangements. I give up what I can call
mine no longer. I think I will devote the rest of my days to performing
such acts of helpfulness and charity as would be impossible for a sound
man with a long life before him to undertake. I do it in a half-jesting
spirit, refusing to take death seriously. I pledge myself to an act of
helpfulness which I regard at first as merely an incident in my career
of beneficence. I am gradually caught in the tangle of a drama which at
times develops into sheer burlesque, and before I can realise what is
going to happen, it turns into ghastly tragedy. I am overwhelmed in
grotesque disaster--it is the only word. Instead of creating happiness
all around me, I have played havoc with human lives. I stand on the
brink and look back and see that it is all one gigantic devil-jest at
my expense. I thank God I am going to die. I do die--for practical
purposes. I come back to life and--here I am. Can I be quite the same
person I was a year ago?"

She reflected for a few moments. Then she said:

"No. You can't be--quite the same. A man of your nature would either
have his satirical view of life hardened into bitter cynicism or he
would be softened by suffering and face things with new and nobler
ideals. He would either still regard life as a jest--but instead of its
being an odd, merry jest it would be a grim, meaningless, hideous one;
or he would see that it wasn't a jest at all, but a full, wonderful, big
reality. I've expressed myself badly, but you see what I mean."

"And what do you think has happened?" I asked.

"I think you have changed for the better."

I smiled inwardly. It sounded rather dull. I said with a smile:

"You never liked my cap and bells, Eleanor."

"No!" she replied emphatically. "What's the use of mockery? See where it
led you."

I rose, half-laughing at her earnestness, half-ashamed of myself, and
took a couple of turns across the room.

"You're right," I cried. "It led me to perdition. You might make an
allegory out of my career and entitle it 'The Mocker's Progress.'" I
paused for a second or two, and then said suddenly, "Why did you from
the first refuse to believe what everybody else does--before I had the
chance of looking you in the eyes?"

She averted her face. "You forget that I had had the chance of searching
deep beneath the mocker."

I cannot, in reverence to her, set down what she s