ensible practice of gaming. It was annoyance that he had passed
out of his own control--that he had obeyed a force which he was unable
to measure at the time. He had been drunk and he was turning sober. In
spite of a great momentary appearance of frankness and a lively relish
of any conjunction of agreeable circumstances exerting a pressure to
which one could respond, Bernard had really little taste for giving
himself up, and he never did so without very soon wishing to take
himself back. He had now given himself to something that was not
himself, and the fact that he had gained ten thousand francs by it was
an insufficient salve to an aching sense of having ceased to be his own
master. He had not been playing--he had been played with. He had been
the sport of a blind, brutal chance, and he felt humiliated by having
been favored by so rudely-operating a divinity. Good luck and bad luck?
Bernard felt very scornful of the distinction, save that good luck
seemed to him rather the more vulgar. As the night went on his disgust
deepened, and at last the weariness it brought with it sent him to
sleep. He slept very late, and woke up to a disagreeable consciousness.
At first, before collecting his thoughts, he could not imagine what
he had on his mind--was it that he had spoken ill of Angela Vivian? It
brought him extraordinary relief to remember that he had gone to bed in
extreme ill-humor with his exploits at roulette. After he had dressed
himself and just as he was leaving his room, a servant brought him a
note superscribed in Gordon's hand--a note of which the following proved
to be the contents.

"Seven o'clock, A.M.

"My dear Bernard: Circumstances have determined me to leave Baden
immediately, and I shall take the train that starts an hour hence. I am
told that you came in very late last night, so I won't disturb you for
a painful parting at this unnatural hour. I came to this decision last
evening, and I put up my things; so I have nothing to do but to take
myself off. I shall go to Basel, but after that I don't know where, and
in so comfortless an uncertainty I don't ask you to follow me. Perhaps
I shall go to America; but in any case I shall see you sooner or later.
Meanwhile, my dear Bernard, be as happy as your brilliant talents should
properly make you, and believe me yours ever,

"G.W.

"P.S. It is perhaps as well that I should say that I am leaving in
consequence of something that happened last evening, but n