least cause," said he; "the truth
is we all want more praise than we get. We are a vain lot, that's the
trouble. Let me paint myself in the blackest colours. You must know the
worst--you must realise the bad bargain you may make. Reckage would
never bore and tire you in this way. How can you care for me?"

"It _is_ hard!" she said, smiling.

"Darling! Do you remember the white violets at Woodbridge, and sitting
on that gate looking across that deep valley at the bonfires? Wasn't it
perfect? Look through these trees now--see the flames and smoke? They
are burning dead leaves and twigs. I wish I could burn my past. This may
be a good omen for me. But I must not deceive you; that would be a bad
beginning."

"We must decide on some course," said Agnes. "Your letter was quite
clear, but I suppose I am not going on as I ought to do. My present
position is that of a person telling a lie to people. Before you wrote,
however, I had made up my mind to _some_ change. I could give no good
grounds for carrying out my engagement to Beauclerk. The motives would
not bear examination. I intended to be patient till the way was
mercifully cleared for me. Even birds, in cold weather, grow tame from
distress. So I waited in a dull, frozen way for what might happen."

He remembered, with a pang of remorse, that he had once called this
devoted woman an accomplished, incurable Philistine.

"I must put myself in the wrong with regard to Beauclerk," she continued
quietly. "That is merely fair to him. Every one shall know that I have
been weak and vacillating. May God forgive me and humble me--for I shall
not be understood, even by many good people. But the next worst thing to
making an error is to abide by it. Dear David, try to follow my feeling.
It has all passed in my mind in such a way that it is impossible for me
to describe it. In a sense, giving Reckage up seems to uproot me
altogether from all my former life, and the future is only not a blank
because it is such a mystery. I am sure, though, that sorrow is never in
God's ordinance the _whole_ law of life. These are great compensations."

"Anything is better than to sit still and dream," said Rennes. "I have
dreamt too long. I find solitude oppressive. Yet you will admit how
dreadful it is to live among those who don't know or don't care a bit
about art."

"But there are other interests equally engrossing."

"Not to me. And even Epicurean advice is only the way to ignominious,
co