en at the cost of his own suffering. He envied Trimble his
freedom from the trammels of education, which for such a long while
would prevent himself from taking such a step as marriage by license.
Indeed, Michael scarcely thought he ever would take such a step now,
since it was unlikely that anyone with Kathleen's attraction would lure
him on to such a deed.

Trimble's determination certainly went a long way to excuse the failings
of his outer person in Michael's eyes, and indeed, as he pledged him a
stirrup-cup of lemon-and-dash, Trimble and Young Lochinvar were not
seriously distinct in Michael's imaginative anticipation of the
exploit.

So all day and every day for ten days Michael presumably spent his time
with Kathleen, notwithstanding Mrs. Fane's tenderly malicious teazing,
notwithstanding the elder Miss McDonnell's growing chill, and
notwithstanding several very pointed questions from the interfering old
spinsters and knitters in the sun of the hotel-gardens. That actually he
spent his time alone in watching slow-handed clocks creep on towards a
quarter to one or a quarter to five or a quarter to seven, filled
Michael daily more full with the spiritual rewards of his sacrifice. He
had never known before the luxury of grief, and he had no idea what a
variety of becoming attitudes could be wrought of sadness, and not
merely attitudes, but veritable dramas. One of the most heroically
poignant of these was founded on the moment when Kathleen should ask him
to be godfather to her first-born. "No, no," Michael would exclaim.
"Don't ask me to do that. I have suffered enough." And Kathleen would
remorsefully and silently steal from the dusky room a-flicker with sad
firelight, leaving Michael a prey to his own noble thoughts. There was
another drama scarcely less moving, in which the first-born died, and
Michael, on hearing the news, took the night express to Burton in order
to speak words of hope above the little duplicate of Trimble now for
ever still in his cradle. Sometimes in the more expansive moments of
Michael's celibacy Trimble and Kathleen would lose all their money, and
Michael, again taking the night express to Burton-on-Trent, would offer
to adopt about half a dozen duplicates of Trimble.

Finally the morning of the marriage arrived, and Michael, feeling that
this was an excellent opportunity to have the first of his dramas staged
in reality, declined to be present. His refusal was a little less
dramatic t