ashes of his splendor and
meditates upon the glory of his bygone days. There is a pathos here
which passes the conception of the average man. The prophets of the Old
Testament discerned it clearly enough, for they were forever pronouncing
the fate of those whose follies were in opposition to the course of
righteousness and who were made examples of by a beneficent and yet
awful power. "Thus saith the Lord: Because thou hast lifted thyself up
against the God of Heaven, and they have brought the vessels of His
house before thee, and thou and thy Lords, thy wives and concubines,
have drank wine in them, and thou hast praised the gods of silver and
gold, of brass, iron, wood, and stone ... God hath numbered thy Kingdom
and finished it. Thou art weighed in the balance and found wanting; thy
Kingdom is divided and given to the Medes and the Persians."

Eugene was in a minor way an exemplification of this seeming course of
righteousness. His Kingdom, small as it was, was truly at an end. Our
social life is so organized, so closely knit upon a warp of instinct,
that we almost always instinctively flee that which does not accord with
custom, usage, preconceived notions and tendencies--those various things
which we in our littleness of vision conceive to be dominant. Who does
not run from the man who may because of his deeds be condemned of that
portion of the public which we chance to respect? Walk he ever so
proudly, carry himself with what circumspectness he may, at the first
breath of suspicion all are off--friends, relations, business
acquaintances, the whole social fabric in toto. "Unclean!" is the cry.
"Unclean! Unclean!" And it does not matter how inwardly shabby we may
be, what whited sepulchres shining to the sun, we run quickly. It seems
a tribute to that providence which shapes our ends, which continues
perfect in tendency however vilely we may overlay its brightness with
the rust of our mortal corruption, however imitative we may be.

Angela had gone home by now to see her father, who was now quite old and
feeble, and also down to Alexandria to see Eugene's mother, who was also
badly deteriorated in health.

"I keep hoping against hope that your attitude will change toward me,"
wrote Angela. "Let me hear from you if you will from time to time. It
can't make any difference in your course. A word won't hurt, and I am so
lonely. Oh, Eugene, if I could only die--if I only could!" No word as to
the true state of things