st-steel heart. He rose, and leaned out into
the steady, outer moonlight, musing for several minutes, and then began
muttering aloud. "It would be as well to clear off one debt at least. I
did pass my word. She deserves this sacrifice, if it were only for never
complaining: let her have her way. By G--d, I'll go off to-morrow
evening, and I'll tell Cecil so as soon as I can see her. Bah! what is a
man worth if he can not forget? Besides, I don't know--" The rest of his
doubts and scruples he confessed--not even to the stars.

Climate has a great deal to answer for. A sudden tempest or an opportune
mist has turned the scale of more battles than some of the most
successful generals would have liked to own. If the next morning had
broken sullenly, things might have gone far otherwise. But it was one of
those brilliant days that make even the invalids not regret, for the
moment, that they have given up all English comforts and home-pleasures
for the off-chance of wringing another month or two of life out of the
wreck of their constitution. Every thing looked bright and in holiday
guise, from the wreaths of ivy glistening on the brows of the shattered
old castle, down to the [Greek: _anerithmong elasma_] of the
turquoise-sea. Under the circumstances, it was very unlikely that
Royston would keep to his virtuous resolutions. The first half of them
he carried out perfectly: he did go straight to Cecil Tresilyan, and
tell her of his intentions to depart. She did not betray much of her
disappointment or surprise, but she argued with so fascinating a
casuistry against the necessity of such a sudden step, that it was no
wonder if she soon convinced her hearer of the propriety of at least
delaying it. In a case like this an excuse of "urgent private affairs"
that would suffice for the most rigid martinet that ever tyrannized over
a district or a division sounds absurdly trivial and insincere. When a
proud beauty does condescend to plead, a man who really cares for her
must be very peculiarly constituted if he remains constant in denial.

The vision of the night had faded away already. Those poor ghosts! They
have no chance--the mystics say--against embodied spirits, if the latter
only keep up their courage, and choose to assert their supremacy.
Besides, they must, perforce, fly before the dawn. And what dawn was
ever so bright as the Tresilyan's smile when she guessed from Royston's
face, without his speaking, that she had won the d