‘Thy Majesty is merciful as wise!’ responded Swami cynically, as he pressed the extinguisher for the last time, and set the room in darkness; obliterating for the moment the entrancing portrait of the woman he was learning to love through the medium of soul-sympathy; for he was as yet personally unacquainted with Mercia. ‘I would I had never seen either thyself or thy psychical pictures,’ said Felicitas bitterly. ‘What good is it looking into futurity? It does but make one miserable beforehand. I cannot control the current of events; all will take place exactly the same as if I had known nothing. To look into the future is but to anticipate life’s troubles. ‘What earthly use to learn the issue of the trial to-day, to-morrow would have been soon enough to know my ill-fortune.’ ‘Balak-like thou wouldst have me curse, when I can only bless,’ returned Swami. ‘It is true that thy Majesty must reap as thou hast sown. We all live under this unalterable law. As the husbandman sows seed expecting its like to be reproduced, so we must be satisfied to gather the fruit of our own actions. If we plant the crab, can we look for the apricot? If we work dishonourable actions, can we reap honour thereby? ‘The priest promises Heaven as the reward of a good life, but the only Heaven assigned to man is that of his own creation—the delight that pervades his soul in the knowledge that he has not lived in vain; that he has been the source of comfort and happiness to others; that he has kept the golden rule. Six little words, in fact, define it,—_that he loves and is beloved_—for human love, in all its various sections, is Heaven—no other Paradise exists.’ ‘’Tis the want of this, that’s brought my trouble,’ murmured Felicitas. ‘If I had Mercia’s love then wouldst thou see how pious I could be.’ ‘Is a child contented wholly when one desire is satisfied? No, he cries hourly for new toys and new delights. Thy Majesty would weary in course of time with the beauteous Mercia, as thou hast wearied of thy spouse. Physical charms delight the eye for a season; but if there be no union of psycho-magnetic sympathy there is no possibility of an enduring affection. Sire, be content; as thou hast made thy bed, so must thou lie upon it.’ ‘That reminds me of my suit to-morrow,’ interrupted Felicitas impatiently. ‘What wouldst thou advise in this dilemma?’ ‘The case is surrounded with difficulties,’ answered Swami reflectively. ‘If thou withdraw the prosecution, the defenders would persist in its being gone through. Sadbag, and Mercia’s counsel would not miss giving the evidence they have in store, under any consideration. Her counsel has decidedly made up his mind that nothing shall induce him to let the case collapse. He will plead, if thou withdraw, that his client’s character is at stake, and must be cleared by suitable investigation of the charge. Besides, the charge is _thine_ no longer: it is in the hands of the Public Prosecutor.’