l
be at the mercy of the blind destiny we suffer under here; or there is a
God, the God who looks on at this world and makes no sign! The sooner we
escape from Him by annihilation the better."

"Christians would tell you He had given a sign."

"Yes; so they do in words and deny it in deeds. Nothing is sadder in
the whole tragedy, or comedy, than these pitiable efforts to hide the
truth, to gloss it over with fables which nobody in his heart of hearts
believes--at least in these days. Why not face the worst like men? If we
can't help being unhappy we can help being dishonest and cowardly.
Existence is a misfortune. Let us frankly confess that it is, and make
the best of it."

He was not looking at his watch now; he was pacing the room. At last, he
was in earnest, and had forgotten all accidents of time and place before
the same enigma which perplexed myself.

"The best of it!" I re-echoed. "Surely, under these circumstances, the
best thing would be to commit suicide?"

"No," he cried, stopping and turning sharply upon me. "The worst,
because the most cowardly; so long as you have strength, brains,
money--anything with which you can do good."

He looked past me through the window into the outer air, no longer
faintly tinged, but dyed deep red by the light of the unseen but
resplendent sunset, and added slowly, dejectedly, as if speaking to
himself as much as to me--

"Yes, there is one thing worth living for--to help to make it all a
little more bearable for the others."

And then all at once, his face, so virile yet so delicate, so young and
yet so sad, reminded me of one I had seen in an old picture--the face of
an angel watching beside the dead Christ; and I cried--

"But are you certain He has made no sign; not hundreds of years ago,
but in your own lifetime? not to saint or apostle, but to you, yourself?
Has nothing which has happened to you, nothing you have ever seen or
read or heard, tempted you to hope in something better?"

"Yes," he said deliberately; "I have had my weak moments. My conviction
has wavered, not before religious teaching of any kind, however, nor
before Nature, in which some people seem to find such promise; but I
have met one or two women, and one man--all of them unknown,
unremarkable people--whom the world never heard of, nor is likely to
hear of, living uneventful obscure lives in out-of-the-way corners. For
instance, there is a lady in this very neighbourhood, a relation of Sir