s resolution so
far that the once had been always. And now the time of recompense was
coming. The fool's paradise was to be emptied of its tenants. He went
away very gloomy, asking himself many troubled questions. It was not
that he had been unaware, as time went on, what it was that went along
with it,--a whole little drama of simple pleasure, of days and evenings
spent together, of talks and expeditions. Innocent? Ah, more than
innocent, the best and sweetest thing in his life, if---- But that
little monosyllable makes all the difference. It was coming to an end
now, they were going away; and Dick had to let them go, without any
conclusion to this pretty play in which he had played his part so
successfully. Oh, he was not the first man who had done it! not the
first who had worn a lover's looks and used all a lover's assiduities,
and then--nothing more. Perhaps that was one of the worst features in
his behaviour to himself. To think that he should be classed with the
men who are said to have been amusing themselves! and Chatty placed
in the position of the victim, on whose behalf people were sorry or
indignant! When he thought that there were some who might presume to
pity her, and who would say of himself that he had behaved ill, the
shock came upon him with as much force as if he had never thought of it
before; although he had thought of it, and reflected upon how to draw
out of the intercourse which was so pleasant, before he gave himself up
to it, with an abandon which he could not account for, which seemed now
like desperation. Desperation was no excuse. He saw the guilt of it
fully, without self-deception, only when he had done all the harm
that was possible, had yielded to every temptation, and now found it
impossible to go any further. To repent in these circumstances is not
uncommon; there is nothing original in it. Thousands of men have done
it before him,--repented when they could sin no more. For a moment it
flashed across his mind to go and throw himself on Mrs. Warrender's
mercy and tell her all, and make what miserable excuse he could for
himself. Was it better to do that, to part for ever from Chatty, or to
let them think badly of him, to have it supposed that he had trifled or
amused himself, or whatever miserable words the gossips chose to use,
and yet leave a door open by which he might some time, perhaps, approach
her again? Some time! after she had forgotten him, after his unworthiness
had been pro