Like one stunned by an unexpected blow, he continued his walk, until he came to Birdseye Avenue and paused in front of the bishop's house. Did he really intend to keep his promise never to see Felicity again? It so, why was he even now measuring the distance between himself and those lighted windows? Perhaps some chance would yet throw her in his way; but he would not risk her contempt by following the prompting of his heart and presenting himself before her only three days after his expressed renunciation. Besides, the bishop might be there; and what had he discovered since they last met? His consciousness of wrong-doing in regard to Felicity deprived him of the desire to meet the bishop face to face and to demand an explanation. Was there not, after all, reason enough for the bishop's action, if he knew all? This thought robbed Leigh of the satisfaction of a righteous indignation, which until now he had cherished as justifiable. He was fair enough to admit that he had received what he deserved, on other than professional grounds, and having reached the lowest depth of unhappiness, he began to retrace his steps disconsolately toward the college. A philosopher once said that every man has in him at least one poem which he could write under the stress of great emotion, and that night Leigh unconsciously exemplified the truth of the saying. It was near the dawn when he descended from the tower, having left upon the table by the telescope this fragmentary record of his vigil. THE MORNING WATCH Be resolute, my soul, And battle till the day, My strength is manifold, If only thou art gay; Since friendship takes its flight, Since love is far outgrown, Here, in the silent night, I watch alone. And sing a song, my soul, A bitter song and bright, While fleeting hours unroll The enigmatic night; The saddest souls must sing-- Ah, happy those that weep! So laugh, till death shall bring Unending sleep. Now let me lie in peace On Nature's passive breast. Since human love must cease, And life is all unblest, And watch the stars outspread Within the brimming blue-- But Abraham is dead Who saw them too. And millions, ages hence, Shall watch the steady stars, And question Why and Whence Behind their prison bars; But if no love shall give A light upon the way, How can they dare to live Until the day? CHAPTER XVIII "TWO SISTER VESSELS"