was grateful to him for doing so; yet I
began to see him in a new, and at moments an unpleasant light. Presently,
after trying in vain to combat this novel sensation, which seemed to me
almost treacherous, almost disloyal, I sought about for a reason, to give
myself at least some justification for it. I sought, and one night it
seemed to me that I found.

"On that night I was more than ever aware that strength of some kind was
pouring into me. I had an almost heady sensation, such as one who drinks
a generous wine may experience. When we rose from the table I told my
rector so. He stared at me very strangely. Then he said: 'Good! Good!
Didn't I tell you I would give you some of my power?' He paused. Then he
added: 'It will come! It must come!' As he spoke the last words he
frowned, and all his face seemed to harden, as if he were making a
violent mental effort to which the body was obliged to respond. And at
that instant I was aware that the reason Marcus Harding had given to me
to persuade me to these sittings was not the true one, that his purpose
was quite other than that which I had hitherto supposed it to be. I was
suddenly aware of this, and I thought: 'I must already have been aware of
it subconsciously, and that accounts for my sensation of hostility toward
the rector.' A lie had been told to me. My new self-confidence resented
this; and I said to myself, 'If Marcus Harding can tell a lie to me, who
almost worshiped him, he must be an arrant hypocrite.'

"We sat again, and again I knew that there was something in the mind
of my companion which he concealed from me, something to which I should
strongly object if I knew what it was, something which troubled the
atmosphere, the mental atmosphere, of the sitting. Instead of being
in accord, we were engaged in a silent, but violent, struggle. I was
determined not to be overcome. A sort of fierce desire for tyranny
sprang up in me. I longed to see Marcus Harding at my feet.

"Again and again we sat. My hostile feeling grew. My critical feeling
grew. My longing to tyrannize increased, till I was almost afraid of it,
so cruel did I feel it to be. 'Down! Down under my feet!' That was what
my soul was secretly saying now to the man whose will had been as law to
me. And one night, as if he heard that ugly voice of my soul, he abruptly
got up from the table and said: 'It seems to me that you and I are not
_en rapport_. It seems to me that no more good can come of these
s