forget all the joy and sorrow that has been and passed into nothingness;
to know only the eternity of a present hour. Might one not learn more in
one instant of unreflecting happiness than by toiling on to a mummied
age, only to know in the end the despair of never having lived?'

He again raised his eyes to her face. It was fixed in a cold, absent
gaze; her lips hardened into severity, the pose of her head impressive,
noble. Athel regarded her for several moments; she was revealing to him
more of her inner self than he had yet divined.

'What are your thoughts?' he asked quietly.

She smiled, recovering her wonted passiveness.

'Have you not often much the same troubles?'

'They arc only for the mind which is strong enough to meet and overcome
them,' she replied.

'But look, my mind has given way already! I am imbecile. For ever I
shall be on the point of a break-down, and each successive one will
bring me nearer to some final catastrophe--perhaps the lunatic
asylum--who knows?'

'I should think,' she said gravely, 'that you suggested a truth. Very
likely your mind will contract its range and cease to aim at the
impossible.'

'But tell me, have you not yourself already attained that wisdom? Why
should you make pretences of feebleness which does not mark you? You