ertheless Lord Hampstead would come, and would say a
few words, and would then ride home again. When all was over at
Pegwell Bay, when the funeral was at hand, and during the few days of
absolutely prostrating grief which followed it, nothing was seen of
him;--but on the evening before his friend's journey down to Castle
Hautboy he again appeared in the Row. On this occasion he walked
over, and his friend returned with him a part of the way. "You must
do something with yourself," Roden said to him.

"I see no need of doing anything special. How many men do nothing
with themselves!"

"Men either work or play."

"I do not think I shall play much."

"Not for a time certainly. You used to play; but I can imagine that
the power of doing so will have deserted you."

"I shan't hunt, if you mean that."

"I do not mean that at all," said Roden;--"but that you should do
something. There must be some occupation, or life will be
insupportable."

"It is insupportable," said the young man looking away, so that his
countenance should not be seen.

"But it must be supported. Let the load be ever so heavy, it must be
carried. You would not destroy yourself?"

"No;"--said the other slowly; "no. I would not do that. If any one
would do it for me!"

"No one will do it for you. Not to have some plan of active life,
some defined labour by which the weariness of the time may be
conquered, would be a weakness and a cowardice next door to that of
suicide."

"Roden," said the lord, "your severity is brutal."

"The question is whether it be true. You shall call it what you
like,--or call me what you like; but can you contradict what I say?
Do you not feel that it is your duty as a man to apply what intellect
you have, and what strength, to some purpose?"

Then, by degrees, Lord Hampstead did explain the purpose he had
before him. He intended to have a yacht built, and start alone, and
cruise about the face of the world. He would take books with him, and
study the peoples and the countries which he visited.

"Alone?" asked Roden.

"Yes, alone;--as far as a man may be alone with a crew and a captain
around him. I shall make acquaintances as I go, and shall be able to
bear them as such. They will know nothing of my secret wound. Had I
you with me,--you and my sister let us suppose,--or Vivian, or any
one from here who had known me, I could not even struggle to raise my
head."

"It would wear off."

"I will go alone; and if o