ad whispered constantly that his love could not be
altogether in vain; it seemed strong enough to travel the infinite
distance to her heart and awaken at least a kindly feeling. He was
humble, and wanted very little. Sometimes he had even felt sure that he
was loved. The truth rent his heart, and filled it with bitterness; the
woman who was his whole being had forgotten him, and the woman who loved
him he hated.... He tried to read, striving to forget; but his trouble
overpowered him, and he could think of nothing but the future, dreadful
and inevitable. The days passed slowly, monotonously; and as each night
came he shuddered at the thought that time was flying. He was drifting
on without hope, tortured and uncertain.

"Oh, I'm so weak," he cried; "I'm so weak!"

He knew very well what he should do if he were strong of will. A firm
man in his place would cut the knot brutally--a letter to Mary, a letter
to his people, and flight. After all, why should he sacrifice his life
for the sake of others? The catastrophe was only partly his fault; it
was unreasonable that he alone should suffer.

If his Colonel came to hear of the circumstance, and disapproving,
questioned him, he could send in his papers. James was bored intensely
by the dull routine of regimental life in time of peace; it was a
question of performing day after day the same rather unnecessary duties,
seeing the same people, listening to the same chatter, the same jokes,
the same chaff. And added to the incurable dulness of the mess was the
irksome feeling of being merely an overgrown schoolboy at the beck and
call of every incompetent and foolish senior. Life was too short to
waste in such solemn trifling, masquerading in a ridiculous costume
which had to be left at home when any work was to be done. But he was
young, with the world before him; there were many careers free to the
man who had no fear of death. Africa opened her dusky arms to the
adventurer, ruthless and desperate; the world was so large and manifold,
there was ample scope for all his longing. If there were difficulties,
he could overcome them; perils would add salt to the attempt, freedom
would be like strong wine. Ah, that was what he desired,
freedom--freedom to feel that he was his own master; that he was not
enchained by the love and hate of others, by the ties of convention and
of habit. Every bond was tedious. He had nothing to lose, and everything
to win. But just those ties which ever