k and barren. True, he had done many things; he had influenced
many people, and accomplished some good work; but what had he got out of
it for himself? He was an Individualist at heart, as most men are, and
he felt conscious of a claim which the world had not granted. It was
almost a shock to him to feel the egoistic desire for personal happiness
stirring strongly within him; the desire had been suppressed for so
long, that when it once awoke it surprised him by its vitality.

The outcome of these reflections was seen in a letter written that day
after his talk with Lesley. He seated himself at last at his
writing-table, and after some minutes' thought dashed off the following
epistle. He did not stop for a word, he would not hesitate about the
wording of sentences: it seemed to him that if he paused to consider,
his resolution might be shaken, his purpose become unfixed.

"My Dear Alice," he wrote--"I hear from Lesley that you are looking
for a house. Would it not be better for us all if you made your
home with me again? Things have changed since you left me, and I
might now be better able to consult your tastes and wishes than I
was then. We are both older and, I hope, wiser. Could we not manage
to put aside some of our personal predilections and make a home
together for our daughter? I use this argument because I believe it
will have more weight with you than any other: at the same time, I
may add that it is for my own sake, as well as for Lesley's, that I
make the proposition. Your affectionate husband,

"CASPAR BROOKE."

It was an odd ending, he thought: he had certainly not shown himself an
affectionate husband to her for many years. But there was truth in the
epithet: little as she might believe it, or as it might appear. He would
not stop to re-read the letter: he had said what he wanted to say, and
she could read his meaning easily enough. He had held out the olive
branch. It was for her to accept or reject it, as she would.

Lesley could not understand why he was so restless and apparently
uneasy during the next few days. He seemed to be looking for
something--expecting something--nobody knew what. He spent more time
than usual with her, and took a new interest in her affairs. She did not
know that he was trying to put himself into training for domestic life,
and that he found it unexpectedly pleasant.

"What's this?" he said one day, picking up a scr