fully formed, and with the thoughts, on which the words were based,
clearly established.

When he came to the end of his journey, he had himself driven to
the hotel, and ordered his dinner, and ate it in solitude, still
supported by the ecstasy of his thoughts. He knew that there was
before him a sharp cruel punishment, and then a weary lonely life.
There could be no happiness, no satisfaction, in store for him. He
was aware that it must be so; but still for the present there was a
joy to him in thinking that he would make her happy, and in that he
was determined to take what immediate delight it would give him. He
asked himself how long that delight could last; and he told himself
that when John Gordon should have once taken her by the hand and
claimed her as his own, the time of his misery would have come.

There had hung about him a dream, clinging to him up to the moment of
his hotel dinner, by which he had thought it possible that he might
yet escape from the misery of Pandemonium and be carried into the
light and joy of Paradise. But as he sat with his beef-steak before
him, and ate his accustomed potato, with apparently as good a gusto
as any of his neighbours, the dream departed. He told himself
that under no circumstances should the dream be allowed to become
a reality. The dream had been of this wise. With all the best
intentions in his power he would offer the girl to John Gordon, and
then, not doubting Gordon's acceptance of her, would make the same
offer to the girl herself. But what if the girl refused to accept
the offer? What if the girl should stubbornly adhere to her original
promise? Was he to refuse to marry her when she should insist that
such was her right? Was he to decline to enter in upon the joys of
Paradise when Paradise should be thus opened to him? He would do his
best, loyally and sincerely, with his whole heart. But he could not
force her to make him a wretch, miserable for the rest of his life!

In fact it was she who might choose to make the sacrifice, and thus
save him from the unhappiness in store for him. Such had been the
nature of his dream. As he was eating his beef-steak and potatoes,
he told himself that it could not be so, and that the dream must be
flung to the winds. A certain amount of strength was now demanded of
him, and he thought that he would be able to use it. "No, my dear,
not me; it may not be that you should become my wife, though all the
promises under heaven had