hen sat himself down in
his chair, telling himself that the thing was over, and that he would
bear it as a man. He took up his newspaper, and began to study it. It
was the time of the year when newspapers are not very interesting,
but he made a rush at the leading articles, and went through two of
them. Then he turned over to the police reports. He sat there for an
hour, and read hard during the whole time. Then he got up and shook
himself, and knew that he was a crippled man, with every function out
of order, disabled in every limb. He walked from the library into the
hall, and thence to the dining-room, and so, backwards and forwards,
for a quarter of an hour. At last he could walk no longer, and,
closing the door of the library behind him, he threw himself on a
sofa and cried like a woman.

What was it that he wanted, and why did he want it? Were there not
other women whom the world would say were as good? Was it ever known
that a man had died, or become irretrievably broken and destroyed by
disappointed love? Was it not one of those things that a man should
shake off from him, and have done with it? He asked himself these,
and many such-like questions, and tried to philosophise with himself
on the matter. Had he no will of his own, by which he might conquer
this enemy? No; he had no will of his own, and the enemy would not be
conquered. He had to tell himself that he was so poor a thing that he
could not stand up against the evil that had fallen on him.

He walked out round his shrubberies and paddocks, and tried to take
an interest in the bullocks and the horses. He knew that if every
bullock and horse about the place had been struck dead it would not
enhance his misery. He had not had much hope before, but now he would
have seen the house of Hampton Privets in flames, just for the chance
that had been his yesterday. It was not only that he wanted her, or
that he regretted the absence of some recognised joys which she would
have brought to him; but that the final decision on her part seemed
to take from him all vitality, all power of enjoyment, all that
inward elasticity which is necessary for an interest in worldly
affairs.

He had as yet hardly thought of anything but himself;--had hardly
observed the name of his successful rival, or paid any attention to
aught but the fact that she had told him that it was all over. He
had not attempted to make up his mind whether anything could still
be done, whether he mig