at your
strength lies in. I do not, the woman does not, but we must all feel
it, whether we comprehend it or no. You said of this fine creature, some
time since, that she was Life, and you have just said again something of
the same kind. It is quite true. She is Life, and the joy of it. You are
two strong forces, and you are drawing together."

He rose from his chair, and going to Mount Dunstan put his hand on his
shoulder, his fine old face singularly rapt and glowing.

"She is drawing you and you are drawing her, and each is too strong to
release the other. I believe that to be true. Both bodies and souls do
it. They are not separate things. They move on their way as the stars
do--they move on their way."

As he spoke, Mount Dunstan's eyes looked into his fixedly. Then they
turned aside and looked down upon the mantel against which he was
leaning. He aimlessly picked up his pipe and laid it down again. He was
paler than before, but he said no single word.

"You think your reasons for holding aloof from her are the reasons of a
man." Mr. Penzance's voice sounded to him remote. "They are the reasons
of a man's pride--but that is not the strongest thing in the world. It
only imagines it is. You think that you cannot go to her as a luckier
man could. You think nothing shall force you to speak. Ask yourself
why. It is because you believe that to show your heart would be to place
yourself in the humiliating position of a man who might seem to her and
to the world to be a base fellow."

"An impudent, pushing, base fellow," thrust in Mount Dunstan fiercely.
"One of a vulgar lot. A thing fancying even its beggary worth buying.
What has a man--whose very name is hung with tattered ugliness--to
offer?"

Penzance's hand was still on his shoulder and his look at him was long.

"His very pride," he said at last, "his very obstinacy and haughty,
stubborn determination. Those broken because the other feeling is the
stronger and overcomes him utterly."

A flush leaped to Mount Dunstan's forehead. He set both elbows on the
mantel and let his forehead fall on his clenched fists. And the savage
Briton rose in him.

"No!" he said passionately. "By God, no!"

"You say that," said the older man, "because you have not yet reached
the end of your tether. Unhappy as you are, you are not unhappy
enough. Of the two, you love yourself the more--your pride and your
stubbornness."

"Yes," between his teeth. "I suppose I retain yet a s