‘I am very glad; I wish them all happiness. I am sure the man is fortunate who marries your sister.’ ‘Yes, he is,’ assented Myles. ‘Then,’ he added, ‘you think I may go any day?’ ‘Any day; but before you go, I hope you will see me again, so that I can give you some idea of the place, and tell you what route to take. It is an out-of-the-way sort of place; and excuse me, the journey is somewhat expensive, and----’ ‘You are very kind. My friend Harry has money which he will lend me. I shall soon repay him if I once get work. He won’t want it till he is married. Let me see: the day after to-morrow--Mary will stay with Harry’s mother. Would it be convenient if I called the day after to-morrow, in the evening?’ ‘The day after to-morrow--to-morrow is Mrs. Spenceley’s ball,’ said Sebastian, half to himself. ‘Yes; the day after to-morrow will suit me perfectly well.’ ‘And the day after that I can go,’ exclaimed Myles, the first ray of anything like pleasure flashing across his face. ‘I can go,’ he repeated. Sebastian looked at him, not feeling at all satisfied with his victory. All that he had ever wished to himself, with regard to Myles, had come to pass. The latter had owned himself wrong; had apologised for his own frowardness; had descended so far as to ask a favour, and to express himself in tones of unmistakable emotion as deeply grateful when it was granted. And yet--the effect was not in the least what it ought to have been. The sensations of the victor were anything but jubilant. ‘You seem very anxious to get away?’ he remarked, involuntarily and inquiringly. ‘Yes, I am; it’s the only thing I care for, just at present,’ said Myles. ‘Good night,’ he added, rising. ‘I can’t express my gratitude to you. You would have been justified in treating me very differently.’ ‘Indeed I should not!’ exclaimed Sebastian; and the sense that his victory was a barren one was borne still more strongly in upon him. What was it worth if, after all, it had only been won _for_ him by Myles’s adverse circumstances, not _by_ him, through his own influence over the conquered one? ‘Heywood,’ he exclaimed earnestly, ‘is there nothing behind all this that you could tell me? Can I do nothing for you but help you to get away from this place, which seems to have grown so unbearable to you? I do not ask from ordinary curiosity--you must know that; it is from sympathy, and a sincere wish to be your friend, if possible.’ Myles shook his head. ‘I can speak to no man of what troubles me, thank you,’ said he. ‘All the same, I am not ungrateful.’ He held out his hand, which the other grasped heartily, and in another minute found himself alone. All that evening, all the night, he was haunted by a vision of the pale face and miserable eyes of Myles Heywood--a vision of suffering whose very remembrance oppressed him. CHAPTER XV. HUGO.