raged for so many years bitten their acids
through and through the lofty ideals which once had been the larger part
of himself? Had the angel in him fallen to the bottom of the pit in that
frightful nethermost region of his, for his cynical brain to mock, until
that, too, was in its grave? He thought of the high degree of
self-government, almost the perfection, that Washington had
attained,--one of the most passionate men that had ever lived. Did that
great Chieftain stand alone in the history of souls? He thought of
Laurens, with his early despair that self-conquest seemed impossible.
Would he have conquered, had he lived? What would he or Washington
think, were they present to-night? Would they hate him, or would their
love be proof against even this abasement? He passionately wished they
were there, whether they came to revile or console. Isolated and
terror-stricken, he felt as if thrust for ever from the world of living
men.

His mind had been turned in, every faculty bent introspectively, but for
some moments past his consciousness had vibrated mechanically to an
external influence. It flew open suddenly, as he realized that someone
was watching him, and he wheeled his chair opposite the dusk in the
lower end of the room. For a moment it, seemed to him that every
function in him ceased and was enveloped in ice. A face rested lightly
on the farther end of the long table, the fair hair floating on either
side of it, the eyes fixed upon him with an expression that flashed him
back to St. Croix and the last weeks of his mother's life. He fancied in
that moment that he could even discern the earthen hue of the skin. When
he realized that it was Angelica, he was hardly less startled, but he
found his voice.

"When did you return?" he asked, in as calm a tone as he could command.
"And why did you hide in here?"

"I came down with Grandpa, who made up his mind in a minute. And I came
in here to be sure to have a little talk with you alone. I was going to
surprise you as soon as you lit the candle, and then your face
frightened me. It is worse now."

Her voice was hardly audible, and she did not move. Hamilton went down
and lifted her to her feet, then supported her to a chair opposite his
own. He made no search for an excuse, for he would not have dared to
offer it to this girl, whose spiritual recesses he suddenly determined
to probe. Between her and the dead woman there was a similarity that was
something more than