"
The last words were spoken slowly, and in a low voice; his eyes were
fixed on the night-world outside. What could his friend say? They talked
late into the night; but all his remonstrances and prayers were of no
avail as against this clear resolve.
"What is the use of discussion?" was the placid answer. "What would you
have me do?--break my oaths--put aside my sacred promise made to
Natalie, and give up the Society altogether? My good fellow, let us talk
of something less impossible."
And indeed, though he deprecated discussion on this point, he was
anxious to talk. The fact was that of late he had come to fear sleep, as
the look of his eyes testified. In the daytime, or as long as he could
sit up with a companion, he could force himself to think only of the
immediate and practical demands of the hour; vain regrets over what
might have been--and even occasional uneasy searchings of conscience--he
could by an effort of will ignore. He had accepted his fate; he had
schooled himself to look forward to it without fear; henceforth there
was to be no indecision, no murmur of complaint.
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