age."

"But--but does Miss Dobson know?" asked Sir John.

"Oh yes," was the reply. "Indeed, it was she who persuaded me not to die
till to-morrow."

"But--but," faltered Lord Sayes, "I saw her saying good-bye to you in
Judas Street. And--and she looked quite--as if nothing had happened."

"Nothing HAD happened," said the Duke. "And she was very much pleased
to have me still with her. But she isn't so cruel as to hinder me from
dying for her to-morrow. I don't think she exactly fixed the hour. It
shall be just after the Eights have been rowed. An earlier death would
mark in me a lack of courtesy to that contest... It seems strange to
you that I should do this thing? Take warning by me. Muster all your
will-power, and forget Miss Dobson. Tear up your tickets for the
concert. Stay here and play cards. Play high. Or rather, go back to your
various Colleges, and speed the news I have told you. Put all Oxford on
its guard against this woman who can love no lover. Let all Oxford
know that I, Dorset, who had so much reason to love life--I, the
nonpareil--am going to die for the love I bear this woman. And let no
man think I go unwilling. I am no lamb led to the slaughter. I am priest
as well as victim. I offer myself up with a pious joy. But enough
of this cold Hebraism! It is ill-attuned to my soul's mood.
Self-sacrifice--bah! Regard me as a voluptuary. I am that. All my
baffled ardour speeds me to the bosom of Death. She is gentle and
wanton. She knows I could never have loved her for her own sake. She
has no illusions about me. She knows well I come to her because not
otherwise may I quench my passion."

There was a long silence. The Duke, looking around at the bent heads and
drawn mouths of his auditors, saw that his words had gone home. It was
Marraby who revealed how powerfully home they had gone.

"Dorset," he said huskily, "I shall die too."

The Duke flung up his hands, staring wildly.

"I stand in with that," said Mr. Oover.

"So do I!" said Lord Sayes. "And I!" said Mr. Trent-Garby; "And I!" The
MacQuern.

The Duke found voice. "Are you mad?" he asked, clutching at his throat.
"Are you all mad?"

"No, Duke," said Mr. Oover. "Or, if we are, you have no right to be at
large. You have shown us the way. We--take it."

"Just so," said The MacQuern, stolidly.

"Listen, you fools," cried the Duke. But through the open window came
the vibrant stroke of some clock. He wheeled round, plucked out his
watch--nin