p it up.
I am defeated. My brain seems deserting me. I mistake symptoms, forget
cases, confound medicines, fall into incredible blunders. My hand
trembles, my judgment wavers, my will is undecided. Juliet, you are
ruining me."

"He saved my life," said Juliet to herself, "and that it is which has
brought him to this. He has a claim to me. I am his property. He found
me a castaway on the shore of Death, and gave me _his_ life to live
with. He must not suffer where I can prevent it."--She was on the point
of yielding.

The same moment she heard a step in the lane approaching the door.

"If you love me, do go now, dear Mr. Faber," she said. "I will see you
again. Do not urge me further to-night.--Ah, I wish! I wish!" she added,
with a deep sigh, and ceased.

The steps came up to the door. There came a knock at it. They heard
Lisbeth go to open it. Faber rose.

"Go into the drawing-room," said Juliet. "Lisbeth may be coming to fetch
me; she must not see you here."

He obeyed. Without a word he left the chamber, and went into the
drawing-room. He had been hardly a moment there, when Wingfold entered.
It was almost dark, but the doctor stood against the window, and the
curate knew him.

"Ah, Faber!" he said, "it is long since I saw you. But each has been
about his work, I suppose, and there could not be a better reason."

"Under different masters, then," returned Faber, a little out of temper.

"I don't exactly think so. All good work is done under the same master."

"Pooh! Pooh!"

"Who is your master, then?"

"My conscience. Who is yours?"

"The Author of my conscience."

"A legendary personage!"

"One who is every day making my conscience harder upon me. Until I
believed in Him, my conscience was dull and stupid--not half-awake,
indeed."

"Oh! I see You mean my conscience is dull and stupid."

"I do not. But if you were once lighted up with the light of the world,
you would pass just such a judgment on yourself. I can't think you so
different from myself, as that that shouldn't be the case; though most
heartily I grant you do your work ten times better than I did. And all
the time I thought myself an honest man! I wasn't. A man may honestly
think himself honest, and a fresh week's experience may make him doubt
it altogether. I sorely want a God to make me honest."

Here Juliet entered the room, greeted Mr. Wingfold, and then shook hands
with Faber. He was glad the room was dark.

"What do you think