of his marriage, which he described as a sort of a jump with his eyes
open he had suddenly been impelled to take. He had fallen on a place
astonishingly different from what it had appeared to him, for he had
been the victim of a mirage, through which the force of his impulse
had taken him into underlying abysses. He went on to describe Cleo's
failure and his own awakening; how they had gone to Dover, how Cleo
had left him, and why he was remaining there now. He likewise included
a message for the Medhursts, but asked his father not to tell them his
whereabouts. It would be sufficient if they were assured all was well
with him. It was an odd fancy, but he wanted to have the feeling that
he was hiding from them.

He had been too touched by his father's letter not to be frank and
sincere, as indeed he would have been in any case, and he only omitted
to say how close he had been to his end because he shrank from giving
pain.

"There is one thing in particular I want to ask you," he concluded,
"and that is not to be tempted to come here to see me. If you really
do sympathise with my motives for the life I have chosen, you will
understand my fear that a meeting between us now might unnerve me. I
know it is a great thing to ask you to be satisfied with the knowledge
that I am well and cheerful, and that, my wife having left me of her
own accord, I have nothing to reproach myself with in my conduct to
her from beginning to end. But I want to begin my new work and submit
myself to the new discipline. So much for me depends upon it that,
though I am strong and confident, I must not run the risk of being
distracted from my purpose by forces that are stronger than I. Where
the issue is so great--as it is, according to my conception of
things--it is but natural I should distrust myself a little. The year
is just half gone. Give me the opportunity of testing myself and of
inuring myself to the discipline with no other encouragement save the
knowledge of the worthiness of my purpose and the goodwill and
approval of whoever understands me. I want to stand alone for the
present--isolation brings out every atom of strength in me. Then,
perhaps, when the new year comes and I shall have had the strength to
stand firm, I may be able to look you in the face."

Helen, in her reply, would not agree with him that he had lost the
essential factors of happiness. She still stood by her prophecy. She
understood and entered into his every feel