PS.--Do tell me about the bows. Jennings insists they are the
fashion.


Lord Arthur looked so serious and unhappy over the letter, that the
Duchess went into fits of laughter.

'My dear Arthur,' she cried, 'I shall never show you a young lady's
letter again! But what shall I say about the clock? I think it is
a capital invention, and I should like to have one myself.'

'I don't think much of them,' said Lord Arthur, with a sad smile,
and, after kissing his mother, he left the room.

When he got upstairs, he flung himself on a sofa, and his eyes
filled with tears. He had done his best to commit this murder, but
on both occasions he had failed, and through no fault of his own.
He had tried to do his duty, but it seemed as if Destiny herself had
turned traitor. He was oppressed with the sense of the barrenness
of good intentions, of the futility of trying to be fine. Perhaps,
it would be better to break off the marriage altogether. Sybil
would suffer, it is true, but suffering could not really mar a
nature so noble as hers. As for himself, what did it matter? There
is always some war in which a man can die, some cause to which a man
can give his life, and as life had no pleasure for him, so death had
no terror. Let Destiny work out his doom. He would not stir to
help her.

At half-past seven he dressed, and went down to the club. Surbiton
was there with a party of young men, and he was obliged to dine with