e devil has
not yet been superseded by a better one) had entered into him, and
concentrated all the evil habits and passions which he had indulged for
years into one flaming hell within him.

Miserable man! His torments were sevenfold: and if he had sinned, he was
at least punished. Not merely by all which a husband has a right to feel
in such a case, or fancies that he has a right; not merely by tortured
vanity and self-conceit, by the agony of seeing any man preferred to
him, which to a man of Elsley's character was of itself unbearable;--not
merely by the loss of trust in one whom he hail once trusted utterly:--
but, over and above all, and worst of all, by the feeling of shame,
self-reproach, self-hatred, which haunts a jealous man, and which ought
to haunt him; for few men lose the love of women who have once loved
them, save by their own folly or baseness:--by the recollection that he
had traded on her trust; that he had drugged his own conscience with the
fancy that she must love him always, let him do what he would; and had
neglected and insulted her affection, because he fancied, in his
conceit, that it was inalienable. And with the loss of self-respect,
came recklessness of it, and drove him on, as it has jealous men in all
ages, to meannesses unspeakable, which have made them for centuries,
poor wretches, the butts of worthless playwrights, and the scorn of
their fellow-men.

Elsley had wandered, he hardly knew how or whither, for his calling to
Mellot was the merest blind,--stumbling over rocks, bruising himself
against tree-trunks, to this wall. He knew they must pass it. He waited
for them, and had his reward. Blind with rage, he hardly waited for the
sound of their footsteps to die away, before he had sprung into the
road, and hurried up in the opposite direction,--anywhere, everywhere,--
to escape from them, and from self. Whipt by the furies, he fled along
the road and up the vale, he cared not whither.

And what were Headley and Valencia, who of necessity had paired off
together, doing all the while? They walked on silently side by side for
ten minutes; then Frank said,--

"I have been impertinent, Miss St. Just, and I beg your pardon."

"No, you have not," said she, quite hastily. "You were right, too
right,--has it not been proved within the last five minutes? My poor
sister! What can be done to mend Mr. Vavasour's temper? I wish you could
talk to him, Mr. Headley."

"He is beyond my art. His