But though he wrote verse that was not quite poetry, though he was inconsistent, and harmlessly self-indulgent, he had moments of inspiration, when the "demon" that speaks to prophet and poet would speak to him. Such a moment came now. A purpose, impossible conventionally, but which, nevertheless, he would carry out, had come to him, and he called down all power in earth and heaven, every force which he believed to make for righteousness, to fight on his side and to help him. Never had such real prayer gone forth from his soul, as now when he determined to reinforce with every particle of spiritual strength within him, the wavering spirit of the woman he loved. He felt ashamed of his irritation against Lucian, who, after all, had served Amethyst as well as he knew how, though he did not wish him to guess either his feelings or his purpose, thinking, rather unjustly, that Lucian would not be able to understand him, and would suppose that he meant to make Amethyst an offer. Lucian was very quiet, and seemed to find breakfast a difficulty. After a silence he said-- "There's one thing, Syl, I think should be done, and it would be best for you to do it. Will you write to my mother, and undeceive her? She will believe you. It is all gone by, but I cannot have one shadow left upon her which can be removed." "Yes, I will," said Sylvester. "What shall you do now yourself?" "I think I shall close with the man who owns the _Albatross_--for three months only. Will you come?" "I hardly know. I ought to go to Cleverley first. Perhaps I might join you later." "I've got a note from Jackson," said Lucian; "he wants me to run down and see him first. He misses me--I got to know his ways." He did not get very steadily to the end of the sentence, he was touched at finding himself satisfactory to some one. "Could he go with you?" said Sylvester. "Oh no. He ought to be perfectly quiet. But I shall ask him to come to Toppings in the autumn. I must make a beginning there some time. I'll do it then." "Well, Lucy, I dare say that's quite right." "I shall go off this morning," said Lucian. "Jackson's father lives near Chester. Then on to Liverpool. I'll leave word there about letters. Tell me if--when--when anything happens. I'm very much obliged to you for having given me the chance of contradicting my former conduct. I think, perhaps, in time to come, she may like to remember that I did it. And tell your father, please, that I renewed my offer, and that she refused me. I can't think of anything else that I can do or say." "It has been hard lines on you, my dear old boy." "Yes. But that's no matter, if I have in any way repaired the injustice. I've seen her; I suppose I never shall again. She did say a hard thing. But--well, Syl, good-bye, I'll go and look after a train to suit me. Thank you. I'm glad it's all happened. Good-bye. When your time comes, I hope you'll have better luck."