was by no means able to
fall back upon those resolutions as to his future life, which he had
formed for himself and communicated to his friend Dalrymple, and
which he had intended to bring at once into force in the event of
his being again rejected by Lily Dale. "I will cleanse my mind of it
altogether," he had said, "and though I may not forget her, I will
live as though she were forgotten. If she declines my proposal again,
I will accept her word as final. I will not go about the world any
longer as a stricken deer,--to be pitied or else bullied by the rest
of the herd." On his way down to Guestwick he had sworn twenty times
that it should be so. He would make one more effort, and then he
would give it up. But now, after his interview with Lily, he was as
little disposed to give it up as ever.

He sat upon a gate in a paddock through which there was a back
entrance into Lady Julia's garden, and there swore a thousand oaths
that he would never give her up. He was, at any rate, sure that she
would never become the wife of any one else. He was equally sure that
he would never become the husband of any other wife. He could trust
her. Yes; he was sure of that. But could he trust himself? Communing
with himself, he told himself that after all he was but a poor
creature. Circumstances had been very good to him, but he had done
nothing for himself. He was vain, and foolish, and unsteady. So he
told himself while sitting upon the gate. But he had, at any rate,
been constant to Lily, and constant he would remain.

He would never more mention her name to any one,--unless it were to
Lady Julia to-night. To Dalrymple he would not open his mouth about
her, but would plainly ask his friend to be silent on that subject if
her name should be mentioned by him. But morning and evening he would
pray for her, and in his prayers he would always think of her as
his wife. He would never speak to another girl without remembering
that he was bound to Lily. He would go nowhere into society without
recalling to mind the fact that he was bound by the chains of a
solemn engagement. If he knew himself he would be constant to Lily.

And then he considered in what manner it would be best and most
becoming that he should still prosecute his endeavour and repeat his
offer. He thought that he would write to her every year, on the same
day of the year, year after year, it might be for the next twenty
years. And his letters should be very simple. Sitt