d to write willingly no more, to speak willingly no more, on
the subject of my marriage. That page is turned for ever: there
shall be no glancing back. Moods inevitably must come; spasms of
despair are as little tractable as spasms of physical pain. But I
can at least keep silent about their true cause. The first step
toward the cure of egoism is to lock away one's Journal. I shall
add no more to this till I have mastered my present state. And I
wonder what that mastery will mean? Are some victories better lost?

The Journal ends abruptly at this point, and no more was added that
year. His letter to Lord Wight has been preserved because his lordship
sent it to Pensee in some anger, begging her to explain such
callousness. Pensee, being a woman, brought a gentler understanding to
the inquiry.

"Don't you see," she said, "that his heart is broken?"

"I see," returned his lordship drily, "he is a born R. C. ecclesiastic.
Religious instinct is the ruling passion of Orange. That poor young
woman--with whom he is madly in love--was merely an accident of his
career. She has affected his character--yes. I suppose Cardinal
Manning's wife had her influence in her day. But Robert will work better
than ever after this. Whereas look at me, my dear. When I lost Sybil, I
was completely done for. I tried to set up for myself, but I couldn't. I
hope I am a Christian; God forbid that I should quarrel with His will.
Yet I cannot think I am a better man for my poor darling's death. Don't
talk to me. Don't say anything."

The letter in question ran as follows:--

ALMOUTH HOUSE.

MY DEAR LORD WIGHT,--

The messages which you have sent by Lady Fitz Rewes have helped me
where I most needed assistance. When I tell you this, it would be
more possible for you to imagine my gratitude than for me to
express it--at least, in words, and for that matter I can't see how
any act of mine could prove even a fraction of it. Shall I resume
my work on the 28th? I have had to learn that one does not always
choose one's vocation. It is sometimes chosen for us. May I beg
you, as one more favour, never to talk to me about the events of
the last fortnight? In one sense I am able--too able--to discuss
them. This is why I must not indulge myself. In times to come I may
find it, perhaps, a certain effort to speak of it all. Then I wil