"Ah, there's a deal of mischief to be done without a declaration, my friend. But, however, I don't expect that you should share my view. I only suggested it on the off chance because--well, I suppose, because that would be the easiest way out for me, as host. But I don't know that I should have thought much of you if you had met me half-way. So now let me do my part and get it over, for it's not very pleasant. I have shown you my reasons, which, however they may seem to you, are undeniable to me. Now for my wishes in the matter, as a father; I am sure there is no need for me to say 'instructions,' so I say 'wishes.' They are simply that for the time--for a year or two, anyhow--you should not give me the pleasure of being your host, and that you should not communicate in any way with Sylvia. There, now it's said, and done, and I think we might leave it at that; for I don't think it's much more pleasant for me than for you. I'm sure I hope we shall have many a pleasant evening together--er--after a few years have passed. Now, what do you say--shall we have another cigar, or go in to the ladies?" I flatter myself that, with all my shortcomings, I was never a sulky fellow. At all events, I elected to join the ladies; but my reward was not immediately apparent, for it seemed that Sylvia had retired for the night. At least, we did not meet again until breakfast-time next morning, when departure was imminent, and the week's work had, so to say, begun. VIII A STIRRING WEEK Ay! we would each fain drive At random, and not steer by rule. Weakness! and worse, weakness bestows in vain. Winds from our side the unsuiting consort rive. We rush by coasts where we had lief remain; Man cannot, though he would, live chance's fool. . . . . . Even so we leave behind, As, charter'd by some unknown Powers, We stem across the sea of life by night. The joys which were not for our use design'd; The friends to whom we had no natural right, The homes that were not destined to be ours. MATTHEW ARNOLD. It goes without saying that Mr. Wheeler's attitude, and my being practically forbidden the house at Weybridge, strengthened and sharpened my interest in Sylvia. Nothing else so fans the flame of a young man's fancy as being forbidden all access to its object. Accordingly, in the weeks which followed that Sunday at Weybridge, I began an ardent correspondence with Sylvia, after inducing her to arrange to call for letters at a certain newspaper shop not far from the station.