ghts be supplemented by other such expeditions. It would be
true benevolence not to deprive him of means to continue them, so as to
keep his ardour alive, regardless of the cost to herself.

It could be done. By the extraordinary favour of a unique accident she
had now an opportunity of redeeming Swithin's seriously compromised
future, and restoring him to a state no worse than his first. His
annuity could be enjoyed by him, his travels undertaken, his studies
pursued, his high vocation initiated, by one little sacrifice--that of
herself. She only had to refuse to legalize their marriage, to part from
him for ever, and all would be well with him thenceforward. The pain to
him would after all be but slight, whatever it might be to his wretched
Viviette.

The ineptness of retaining him at her side lay not only in the fact
itself of injury to him, but in the likelihood of his living to see it as
such, and reproaching her for selfishness in not letting him go in this
unprecedented opportunity for correcting a move proved to be false. He
wished to examine the southern heavens--perhaps his uncle's letter was
the father of the wish--and there was no telling what good might not
result to mankind at large from his exploits there. Why should she, to
save her narrow honour, waste the wide promise of his ability?

That in immolating herself by refusing him, and leaving him free to work
wonders for the good of his fellow-creatures, she would in all
probability add to the sum of human felicity, consoled her by its breadth
as an idea even while it tortured her by making herself the scapegoat or
single unit on whom the evil would fall. Ought a possibly large number,
Swithin included, to remain unbenefited because the one individual to
whom his release would be an injury chanced to be herself? Love between
man and woman, which in Homer, Moses, and other early exhibitors of life,
is mere desire, had for centuries past so far broadened as to include
sympathy and friendship; surely it should in this advanced stage of the
world include benevolence also. If so, it was her duty to set her young
man free.

Thus she laboured, with a generosity more worthy even than its object, to
sink her love for her own decorum in devotion to the world in general,
and to Swithin in particular. To counsel her activities by her
understanding, rather than by her emotions as usual, was hard work for a
tender woman; but she strove hard, and made adva