dissatisfied with the unreality of what
he called his enjoyments. What, he asked himself, had condemned him to
this kind of career? Simply the weight under which he started, his poor
origin, his miserable youth. However carefully regulated his private
life had been, his position to-day could not have been other than it
was; no degree of purity would have opened to him the door of a
civilised house. Suppose he had wished to marry; where, pray, was he to
find his wife? A barmaid? Why, yes, other men of his standing wedded
barmaids and girls from the houses of business, and so on; but they had
neither his tastes nor his brains. Never had it been his lot to
exchange a word with an educated woman--save in the office on rare
occasions. There is such a thing as self-martyrdom in the cause of
personal integrity; another man might have said to himself, 'Providence
forbids me the gratification of my higher instincts, and I must be
content to live a life of barrenness, that I may at least be above
reproach.' True, but Scawthorne happened not to be so made. He was of
the rebels of the earth. Formerly he revolted because he could not
indulge his senses to their full; at present his ideal was changed, and
the past burdened him.

Yesterday he had had an interview with old Mr. Percival which, for the
first time in his life, opened to him a prospect of the only kind of
advancement conformable with his higher needs. The firm of Percival &
Peel was, in truth, Percival & Son, Mr. Peel having been dead for many
years; and the son in question lacked a good deal of being the capable
lawyer whose exertions could supplement the failing energy of the
senior partner. Mr. Percival having pondered the matter for some time,
now proposed that Scawthorne should qualify himself for admission as a
solicitor (the circumstances required his being under articles for
three years only), and then, if everything were still favourable,
accept a junior partnership in the firm. Such an offer was a testimony
of the high regard in which Scawthorne was held by his employer; it
stirred him with hope he had never dared to entertain since his eyes
were opened to the realities of the world, and in a single day did more
for the ripening of his prudence than years would have effected had his
position remained unaltered. Scawthorne realised more distinctly what a
hazardous game he had been playing.

And here was this brief note, signed 'C. V.' An ugly affair to look
back