“Very good!” and I left him, and joined Kingsley. The business of this friend being now in a fair train for final adjustment, he was preparing for his return to Texas. He had not been at my lodgings since Edgerton's arrival in M--, but we had seen each other, nevertheless, almost every day at his or at my office. Our afternoon was rather merry than cheerful. Heaven knows I was in no mood to be a bon compagnon, but I took sufficient pains that Kingsley should not suspect I had any reasons for being otherwise. I had my jest--I emptied my bottle--I said my good things, and seemed to say them without effort. Kingsley, always cheerful and strong-minded, was in his best vein, and mingling wit and reflection happily together, maintained the ball of conversation with equal ease and felicity. He had the happy knack of saying happy things quietly--of waiting for, and returning the ball, without running after it. At another time, I should have been content simply to have provoked him. Now, I was quite too miserable not to seek employment; and to disguise feelings, which I should have been ashamed to expose, I contrived to take the lead and almost grew voluble in the frequency of my utterance. Perhaps, if Kingsley failed in any respect as a philosopher, it was in forbearing to look with sufficient keenness of observation into the heart of his neighbor. He evidently did not see into mine. He was deceived by my manner. He credited all my fun to good faith, and gravely pronounced me to be a fortunate fellow. “How?” I demanded with a momentary cessation of the jest. His gravity and--to me--the strange error in such an observation--excited my curiosity. “In your freedom from jealousy.” “Oh! that, eh? But why should I be jealous?' “It is not exactly why a man should be jealous--but why, knowing what men are, usually, that you are not. Nine men in ten would be so under your circumstances?” “How, what circumstances?” “With Edgerton in your house--evidently fond of your wife, you leave them utterly to themselves. You bring him into your house unnecessarily, and give him every opportunity. I still think you risk everything imprudently. You may pay for it.” I felt a strange sickness at my heart. I felt that the flame was beginning to boil up within me. The perilous turning-point of passion--the crisis of strength and endurance--was at hand My eyes settled gloomily upon the table. I was silent longer than usual. I felt THAT, and looked up. The keen glance of Kingsley was upon me. It would not do to suffer him to read my feelings. I replied with some precipitation:-- “I see, Kingsley, you are not cared of your prejudices against Edgerton.” “I am not--I have seen nothing to cure me. But my prejudice against him, has nothing to do with my opinion of your prudence. Were it any other man, the case would be the same.” “Well, but I do not think it so clear that Edgerton loves my wife more than is natural and proper.”