ironment and
education. As far back as I know anything about them, my people have all
lived on the surface of life, and I have floated along with them. But,
by heavens--I have at least seen down into the depths!"

"Well, I have my inheritance of bad blood also. I had a father who was
not only weak but wicked."

"Yes, but think of your mother."

"Mantel, you are carrying this too far. A man is something more than the
mere chemical product of his ancestor's blood and brains! Every one has
a new and original endowment of his own. He must live and act for
himself."

"Maybe so, but everything seems, at least, to be a fixed and inevitable
consequence of what has gone before. I don't want to disparage this last
act of yours, but see how far back its roots reach into the past. See
what a chain of events led up to it, and what frightful causes have been
operating to bring you up to the sticking point! How long ago was it
that you were just as ready to throw up the game?"

"Horrible! Don't speak of it! It makes me tremble. I am not worthy to
defend or even advocate a life of endeavor and victory, Mantel, and I
will not try; but I know that I am right."

"Yes, Dave, you are right; I know it as well as you. I am only talking
to ease my conscience. I know I ought to snap these cords, and I know I
can. But I also know that I am grinding here in this devil's mill while
every bad man makes sport and every good man weeps! And I know that I
shall keep on grinding while you and thousands of other noble fellows
with less brains, perhaps, and fewer chances than mine, make wild dashes
for liberty and do men's work in the world. But here I am, cold and
dead, and here I remain."

"Can nothing persuade you--not love? I love you, Mantel! Come, let us go
together. Who knows what we can do if we try? I must persuade you!"

"I am like a ship in a sea of glue. You touch me, but you don't persuade
me! It's no use. I cannot budge. The aspirations you awaken in my soul
leap up above the surface like little fishes from a pond, and as quickly
fall back again! No, I cannot go. Don't press me--it makes me feel like
the young man in the gospel, who made what Dante calls 'the great
refusal;' he saw that young man's 'shade' in hell."

They were sitting on the sill of a deep window in what had once been one
of the most fashionable mansions of the city. The sash was raised, and
the light of the moon fell full upon their young faces. They ceased
speak