me.

"I know," he said.

"You once promised to explain me to myself," I said, smiling, "Is this
the day and the hour?"

"That is for you to say," he replied. "You may object to analysis in
public. True, there are some advantages from your point of view. You
will have one of your own sex to hold a brief for you, and a very
partial judge to guarantee fair play."

"I do not mind," I replied; and the squire smiled contentedly.

The Cynic threw his cigarette into the fire and began: "As I understand
the case, before you left London your duties kept your hands busily
employed during working hours, but allowed you ample opportunity for
the consideration of those social problems in which for the previous
year or two you had been deeply interested, and a certain portion of
your leisure was devoted to social and philanthropic work?"

I assented with a nod.

"Very well. Yielding to what appeared to be a sudden impulse, but to
what was in reality the well-considered action of your subconscious
self, you bound your burden of cares upon your back and fled from your
City of Destruction."

"Like a coward," I interposed, "afraid to play the game of life because
of its hazards. I might have remained and faced the problems and
helped to fight the foe I loathed."

"I will come to that shortly," he said, and every trace of irony had
left his voice; "at present I am considering why your subconscious self
decided upon this line of action. The world's sorrows were oppressing
you like a nightmare. Do you know that few of us can meet sorrow face
to face and day by day and retain our strength, and particularly if we
seek to meet it unprepared, unschooled? One of two things usually
happens: we become hardened, or we go mad. From these alternatives it
is sometimes wise to flee, and then flight is not cowardice, but
prudence."

"I certainly obeyed my Inner Self," I said, "but is there not such a
thing as a false conscience?"

"Your 'Inner Self' did not betray you," he continued. "Unwittingly you
sought, not oblivion, but enlightenment and preparation. All earnest
reformers are driven of the Spirit into the wilderness."

"Yes, but for what purpose, Derwent?" interposed the squire; "to be
tempted of the devil?"

"To face the tempter, sir. To test their own armour in private
conflict before they go forth to strike down the public foe. To
discover the devil's strength, his powers and his limitations, before
they match them