hen, when the muffled thunder
of the Dead March in 'Saul' will soon be rolling in cathedrals; it
is then, it is there, that the pride of his unquestioned power comes
grimliest home to him. Is there no withstanding him? Why should he be
admitted always with awe, a cravenly-honoured guest? When next he calls,
let the butler send him about his business, or tell him to step round to
the servants' entrance. If it be made plain to him that his visits are
an impertinence, he will soon be disemboldened. Once the aristocracy
make a stand against him, there need be no more trouble about the
exorbitant Duties named after him. And for the hereditary system--that
system which both offends the common sense of the Radical, and wounds
the Tory by its implied admission that noblemen are mortal--a seemly
substitute will have been found."

Artless and crude in expression, very boyish, it seemed now to its
author. Yet, in its simple wistfulness, it had quality: it rang true.
The Duke wondered whether, with all that he had since mastered in the
great art of English prose, he had not lost something, too.

"Is there no withstanding him?" To think that the boy who uttered that
cry, and gave back so brave an answer, was within nine years to go
seek death of his own accord! How the gods must be laughing! Yes,
the exquisite point of the joke, for them, was that he CHOSE to die.
But--and, as the thought flashed through him, he started like a man
shot--what if he chose not to? Stay, surely there was some reason why
he MUST die. Else, why throughout the night had he taken his doom for
granted?... Honour: yes, he had pledged himself. Better death than
dishonour. Was it, though? was it? Ah, he, who had come so near to
death, saw dishonour as a tiny trifle. Where was the sting of it? Not
he would be ridiculous to-morrow--to-day. Every one would acclaim his
splendid act of moral courage. She, she, the hyena woman, would be the
fool. No one would have thought of dying for her, had he not set the
example. Every one would follow his new example. Yes, he would
save Oxford yet. That was his duty. Duty and darling vengeance! And
life--life!

It was full dawn now. Gone was that faint, monotonous sound which had
punctuated in his soul the horrors of his vigil. But, in reminder of
those hours, his lamp was still burning. He extinguished it; and the
going-out of that tarnished light made perfect his sense of release.

He threw wide his arms in welcome of the