ical energy than
ever. Every such project undertaken and abandoned is a weight upon a
man's will. If I fail in perseverance my fate will be decided.'

'I feel assured that you will not fail. You could not speak as you did
last night and yet allow yourself to falter in purpose when the task
was once begun. What success may await you we cannot say; the work will
certainly be very difficult. Will it not ask a lifetime?'

'No less, if it is to have any lasting result.'

'Be glad, then. What happier thing can befall one than to have one's
life consecrated to a worthy end!'

He walked on in silence, then regarded her.

'Such words in such a voice would make any man strong. Yet I would ask
more from you. There is one thing I need to feel full confidence in
myself, and that is a woman's love. I have known for a long time whose
love it was that I must try to win. Can you give me what I ask?'

The smile which touched his lips so seldom was on them now. He showed
no agitation, but the light of his eyes was very vivid as they read her
expression. Annabel had stayed her steps; for a moment she looked
troubled. His words were not unanticipated, but the answer with which
she was prepared was more difficult to utter than she had thought it
would be. It was the first time that a man had spoken to her thus, and
though in theory such a situation had always seemed to her very simple,
she could not now preserve her calm as she wished. She felt the warmth
of her blood, and could not at once command her wonted voice. But when
at length she succeeded in meeting his look steadily her thought grew
clear again.

'I cannot give you that, Mr. Egremont.'

As his eyes fell, she hastened to add:

'I think of you often. I feel glad to know you, and to share in your
interest. But this is no more than the friendship which many people
have for you--quite different from the feeling which you say would aid
you. I have never known that.'

He was gazing across the lake. The melancholy always lurking in the
thoughtfulness of his face had become predominant. Yet he turned to her
with the smile once more.

'Those last words must be my hope. To have your friendship is much.
Perhaps some day I may win more.'

'I think,' she said, with a sincerity which proved how far she was from
emotion, 'that you will meet another woman whose sympathy will be far
more to you than mine.'

'Then I must have slight knowledge of myself. I have known you for
seven ye