said.

"Aye, but be a man. You have your work to do."

"No, I have no work to do. I threw all that away."

"I expected you'd say that."

"I know, of course, what you think of it. In your view, that vow of mine
was nonsense--a part of the high-falutin' way I took everything in.
Isn't that so?"

"I didn't come here to try and persuade you to think as I do about such
things. I am not so fond of my position that I need proselytize. But I
want you to look into yours."

"Mine is only too clear. I have given up everything and got nothing.
It's this way: all the heart is out of me. If I went back to my work I
should be a sham."

"I don't see that. May I smoke?"

He lighted a cigar, and sat quiet for a few seconds.

"I suppose," he resumed, "you still believe what you used to teach?"

"Certainly; that is--yes, I believe it. But it isn't part of me as it
was."

"Ah! but you think it's true?"

"I remain perfectly satisfied with the demonstration of its truth--only
I have lost the faith that is above knowledge."

It was evidently only with an effort that Ayre repressed a sarcasm.
Stafford saw his difficulty.

"You don't follow that?"

"I have heard it spoken of before. But, after all, it's beside the
point. You believe the things so that, as far as honesty goes, you could
still teach them?"

"Certainly I should believe every dogma I taught."

"Including the dogma that people ought to be good?"

"Including that," answered Stafford, with a smile.

"I don't see what more you want," said Sir Roderick, with an air of
finality.

Stafford felt himself, against his will, growing more cheerful. In fact,
it was a pleasure to him to exercise his brains once again, instead of
being the slave of his emotions. Ayre had anticipated such a result from
their conversation.

"Everything more," he said. "Personal holiness is at the bottom of it
all."

"The best thing, I dare say." Ayre conceded. "But indispensable?
Besides, you have it."

"Never again."

"Yes, I say--in all essentials."

"I can't do it. Ah, Ayre! it's all empty to me now."

"For God's sake, be a man! Is there nothing on earth to be but a saint
or a husband?"

Stafford looked at him inquiringly.

"Heavens, man! have you no ambition? Here you are, with ten men's
brains, and you sit--I don't know how you sit--in sackcloth, clearly,
but whether for heaven or for Claudia I don't know. You think it odd to
hear me preach ambition? I'm a lazy devil; bu