chief's hand and press it to his lips; but he forbore. The
Dictator was not an effusive man, and effusiveness did not flourish in
his presence. Hamilton confined his gratitude to looks and thoughts and
to the dropping of the subject for the present.

'I have been pottering over these maps and plans,' the Dictator said.

'I am so glad,' Hamilton exclaimed, 'to find that your heart is still
wholly absorbed in the improvement of Gloria.'

The Dictator remained for a few moments silent and apparently buried in
thought. He was not thinking, perhaps, altogether of the projected
improvements in the capital of Gloria. Hamilton had often seen him in
those sudden and silent, but not sullen, moods, and was always careful
not to disturb him by asking any question or making any remark. The
Dictator had been sitting in a chair and pulling the ends of his
moustache. At once he got up and went to where Hamilton was seated.

'Look here, Hamilton,' he said, in a tone of positive sternness, 'I want
to be clear about all this. I want to help you--of course I want to help
you--if you can really be helped. But, first of all, I must be
certain--as far as human certainty can go--that you really know what you
do want. The great curse of life is that men--and I suppose women too--I
can't say--do not really know or trouble to know what they do positively
want with all their strength and with all their soul. The man who
positively knows what he does want and sticks to it has got it already.
Tell me, do you really want to marry this young woman?'

'I do--with all my soul and with all my strength!'

'But have you thought about it--have you turned it over in your
mind--have you come down from your high horse and looked at yourself, as
the old joke puts it?'

'It's no joke for me,' Hamilton said dolefully.

'No, no, boy; I didn't mean that it was. But I mean, have you really
looked at yourself and her? Have you thought whether she could make you
happy?--have you thought whether you could make her happy? What do you
know about her? What do you know about the kind of life which she lives?
How do you know whether she could do without that kind of life--whether
she could live any other kind of life? She is a London Society girl, she
rides in the Row at a certain hour, she goes out to dinner parties and
to balls, she dances until all hours in the morning, she goes abroad to
the regular place at the regular time, she spends a certain part of the
win