other, 'tis like she had been Mrs. Austin. Now!... You know the
world.

FENWICK. I know, sir, that the world contains much cowardice. To find
Mr. Austin afraid to do the right, this surprises me.

AUSTIN. Afraid, child?

FENWICK. Yes, sir, afraid. You know her, you know if she be worthy; and
you answer me with--the world: the world which has been at your feet:
the world which Mr. Austin knows so well how to value and is so able to
rule.

AUSTIN. I have lived long enough, Mr. Fenwick, to recognise that the
world is a great power. It can make; but it can break.

FENWICK. Sir, suffer me: you spoke but now of friendship, and spoke
warmly. Have you forgotten Colonel Villiers?

AUSTIN. Mr. Fenwick, Mr. Fenwick, you forget what I have suffered.

FENWICK. O sir, I know you loved him. And yet, for a random word you
quarrelled; friendship was weighed in vain against the world's code of
honour; you fought, and your friend fell. I have heard from others how
he lay long in agony, and how you watched and nursed him, and it was in
your embrace he died. In God's name, have you forgotten that? Was not
this sacrifice enough, or must the world, once again, step between Mr.
Austin and his generous heart?

AUSTIN. Good God, sir, I believe you are in the right; I believe, upon
my soul I believe, there is something in what you say.

FENWICK. Something, Mr. Austin? O credit me, the whole difference
betwixt good and evil.

AUSTIN. Nay, nay, but there you go too far. There are many kinds of
good; honour is a diamond cut in a thousand facets, and with the true
fire in each. Thus, and with all our differences, Mr. Fenwick, you and I
can still respect, we can still admire each other.

FENWICK. Bear with me still, sir, if I ask you what is the end of life
but to excel in generosity? To pity the weak, to comfort the afflicted,
to right where we have wronged, to be brave in reparation--these noble
elements you have; for of what besides is the fabric of your dealing
with Colonel Villiers? That is man's chivalry to man. Yet to a suffering
woman--a woman feeble, betrayed, unconsoled--you deny your clemency, you
refuse your aid, you proffer injustice for atonement. Nay, you are so
disloyal to yourself that you can choose to be ungenerous and unkind.
Where, sir, is the honour? What facet of the diamond is that?

AUSTIN. You forget, sir, you forget. But go on.

FENWICK. O sir, not I--not I but yourself forgets: George Austin forgets
George A