when after a pause he said softly:

"Poor boy!--poor, puzzled, tired brain that would fain judge
Infinity by merely finite perception! You were a far truer poet,
Theos Alwyn, when as a world-foolish, heaven-inspired lad you
believed in God, and therefore, in godlike gladness, found all
things good!"

Alwyn looked up--his lips quivered.

"Poet--poet!" he murmured--"why taunt me with the name?" He
started upright in his chair--"Let me tell you all," he said
suddenly; "you may as well know what has made me the useless wreck
I am; though perhaps I shall only weary you."

"Far from it," answered Heliobas gently. "Speak freely--but
remember I do not compel your confidence."

"On the contrary, I think you do!" and again that faint, half-
mournful smile shone for an instant in his deep, dark eyes,
"though you may not be conscious of it. Anyhow I feel impelled to
unburden my heart to you: I have kept silence so long! You know
what it is in the world, ... one must always keep silence, always
shut in one's grief and force a smile, in company with the rest of
the tormented, forced-smiling crowd. We can never be ourselves--
our veritable selves--for, if we were, the air would resound with
our ceaseless lamentations! It is HORRIBLE to think of all the
pent-up sufferings of humanity--all the inconceivably hideous
agonies that remain forever dumb and unrevealed! When I was
young,--how long ago that seems! yes, though my actual years are