as to leave him alone. He was
suffering acutely, there was no doubt about that, and when any animal
suffers, including man, it is best left in solitude. A sick or wounded
beast always turns out of the herd to recover or die.

When Mildred saw him in this state of mental desolation, she would
shake her head and sigh, for it told her that she was as far as ever
from the golden gate of her Eldorado. As has been said, hers was the
strongest will, and, even if he had not willed it, she could have
married him any day she wished; but, odd as it may seem, she was too
conscientious. She had determined that she would not marry him unless
she was certain that he loved her, and to this resolution, as yet, she
firmly held. Whatever her faults may have been, Mildred Carr had all
the noble unselfishness that is so common in her sex. For herself and
her own reputation she cared, comparatively speaking, nothing; whilst
for Arthur's ultimate happiness she was very solicitous.

One evening--it was one of Arthur's black days, when he had got a fit
of what Mildred called "Angela fever"--they were walking together in
the garden, Arthur in silence, with his hands in his pockets and his
pipe in his mouth, and Mildred humming a little tune by way of amusing
herself, when they came to the wall that edged the precipice. Arthur
leant over it and gazed at the depths below.

"Don't, dear, you will tumble over," said Mildred, in some alarm.

"I think it would be a good thing if I did," he answered, moodily.

"Are you, then, so tired of the world--and me?"

"No, dear, I am not tired of you; forgive me, Mildred, but I am
dreadfully miserable. I know that it is very ungracious and ungrateful
of me, but it is the fact."

"You are thinking of _her_ again, Arthur?"

"Yes, I have got a fit of it. I suppose that she has not been out of
my mind for an hour altogether during the last forty-eight hours. Talk
of being haunted by a dead person, it is infinitely worse being
haunted by a living one."

"I am very sorry for you, dear."

"Do you suppose, Mildred, that this will go on for all my life, that I
shall always be at the mercy of these bitter memories and thoughts?"

"I don't know, Arthur. I hope not."

"I wish I were dead--I wish I were dead," he broke out, passionately.
"She has destroyed my life, all that was happy in me is dead, only my
body lives on. I am sure I don't know, Mildred, how you can care for
anything so worthless."

She kissed