ace and wandered to another
part of the garden, wondering at the motive of her sudden tears. Of
women's sobs in general he had a sovereign dread, but these, somehow,
gave him a certain pleasure. When he returned to his place Miss Garland
had raised her head and banished her tears. She came away from Mrs.
Hudson, and they stood for a short time leaning against the parapet.

"It seems to you very strange, I suppose," said Rowland, "that there
should be any trouble in such a world as this."

"I used to think," she answered, "that if any trouble came to me I would
bear it like a stoic. But that was at home, where things don't speak to
us of enjoyment as they do here. Here it is such a mixture; one does n't
know what to choose, what to believe. Beauty stands there--beauty such
as this night and this place, and all this sad, strange summer, have
been so full of--and it penetrates to one's soul and lodges there, and
keeps saying that man was not made to suffer, but to enjoy. This place
has undermined my stoicism, but--shall I tell you? I feel as if I were
saying something sinful--I love it!"

"If it is sinful, I absolve you," said Rowland, "in so far as I have
power. We are made, I suppose, both to suffer and to enjoy. As you say,
it 's a mixture. Just now and here, it seems a peculiarly strange one.
But we must take things in turn."

His words had a singular aptness, for he had hardly uttered them when
Roderick came out from the house, evidently in his darkest mood. He
stood for a moment gazing hard at the view.

"It 's a very beautiful night, my son," said his mother, going to him
timidly, and touching his arm.

He passed his hand through his hair and let it stay there, clasping
his thick locks. "Beautiful?" he cried; "of course it 's beautiful!
Everything is beautiful; everything is insolent, defiant, atrocious with
beauty. Nothing is ugly but me--me and my poor dead brain!"

"Oh, my dearest son," pleaded poor Mrs. Hudson, "don't you feel any
better?"

Roderick made no immediate answer; but at last he spoke in a different
voice. "I came expressly to tell you that you need n't trouble
yourselves any longer to wait for something to turn up. Nothing will
turn up! It 's all over! I said when I came here I would give it a
chance. I have given it a chance. Have n't I, eh? Have n't I, Rowland?
It 's no use; the thing 's a failure! Do with me now what you please. I
recommend you to set me up there at the end of the garden