decided that the only
thing possible for him was to put a "great divide" of distance between
himself and her. This he had done--and to what purpose? Apparently
merely to excite her ridicule!--and to prick her humor up to the
mischievous prank of finding out where he had fled and following him!
And she--even she--who had kept him aloof ever since that fatal moment
on the seashore,--had discovered him on this lonely hill-side, and had
taunted him with her light mockery--and actually said that "to kiss him
would be like kissing a bunch of nettles!"--SHE said that!--she who for
one wild moment he had held in his arms--bah!--he sprang up from his
chair in a kind of rage with himself, as his thoughts crowded thick and
fast one on the other--why did he think of her at all! It was as if
some external commanding force compelled him to do so. Then--she had
seen Manella, and had naturally drawn her own conclusions, based on the
girl's rich beauty which was so temptingly set within his reach. He
began to talk to himself aloud once more, picking up the thread of his
broken converse where he had left it--

"If it were Morgana it would be far worse than if it were Manella!" he
said--"The one is too stupid--the other too clever. But the stupid
woman would make the best wife--if I wanted one--which I do not; and
the best mother, if I desired children,--which I do not. The question
is,--what DO I want? I think I know--but supposing I get it, shall I be
satisfied? Will it fulfil my life's desire? What IS my life's desire?"

He stood inert--his tall figure erect--his eyes full of strange and
meditative earnestness, and for a moment he seemed to gather his mental
forces together with an effort. Turning towards the table where the
bowl of constantly sparkling fluid danced in tiny flashing eddies
within its crystal prison, he watched its movement.

"There's the clue!" he said--"so little--yet so much! Life that cannot
cease--force that cannot die! For me--for me alone this secret!--to do
with it what I will--to destroy or to re-create! How shall I use it? If
I could sweep the planet clean of its greedy, contentious human
microbes, and found a new race I might be a power for good,--but should
I care to do this? If God does not care, why should I?"

He lost himself anew in musing--then, rousing his mind to work, he put
paper, pens and ink on the table, and started writing busily--only
interrupting himself once for a light meal of dry bread