exhausting the field of conjecture.
Will you kindly enlighten me?"

"If I did, you would say I was a lunatic."

"I have been inclined to say so occasionally before--"

"Becky, Weir Penrhyn is my--" And then he stopped. The ludicrous side
of the matter had never appealed to him, but he was none the less
conscious of how ridiculous the thing would appear to another.

"Your what? Your wife? Are you married to her already, and do you want
me to break it to the old gentleman? What kind of a character is he?
Shall I go armed?"

"She is not my wife, thank God! If she were--"

"For heaven's sake, Harold, explain yourself. Can it be possible that
Miss Penrhyn is like too many other women?"

Dartmouth sprang to his feet, his face white to the lips.

"How dare you say such a thing?" he exclaimed. "If it were any other
man but you, I'd blow out his brains."

Hollington got up from the chair he had taken and, grasping Dartmouth
by the shoulders, threw him back into his chair.

"Now look here, Harold," he said; "let us have no more damned
nonsense. If you will indulge in lugubrious hints which have but
one meaning, you must expect the consequences. I refuse to listen to
another word unless you come out and speak plain English."

He resumed his seat, and Dartmouth clasped his hands behind his head
and stared moodily at the fire. In a few moments he turned his eyes
and fixed them on Hollington.

"Very well," he said, "I will tell you the whole story from beginning
to end. Heaven knows it is a relief to speak; but if you laugh, I
believe I shall kill you."

"I will not laugh," said Hollington. "Whatever it is, I see it has
gone hard with you."

Dartmouth began with the night of the first attempt of his
suppressed poetical genius to manifest itself, and gave Hollington a
comprehensive account of each detail of his subsequent experiences,
down to the reading of the letters and the spiritual retrospect they
had induced. He did not tell the story dramatically; he had no
fire left in him; he stated it in a matter-of-fact way, which was
impressive because of the speaker's indisputable belief in his own
words. Hollington felt no desire to laugh; on the contrary, he was
seriously alarmed, and he determined to knock this insane freak of
Harold's brain to atoms, if mortal power could do it, and regardless
of consequences to himself.

When Dartmouth had finished, Hollington lit a cigar and puffed at it
for a moment, meditative