Nestley was doubtless weak to allow himself to be so dominated, but unhappily it was his nature. If Nature endows a man largely in one way, she generally deprives him of something else in equal proportion, and while Nestley was a brilliant, clever man, who, if left to himself, would have lived an honest and creditable life, yet his morally weak nature placed him at the mercy of any unscrupulous scoundrel who thought fit to play upon his feelings. Unhappily, circumstances aided Beaumont's nefarious plan, for after leaving Una the young doctor walked across the common to the village, hoping to pull himself together by a brisk walk. At the bridge he found Beaumont leaning over it, looking at the water swirling below, and on hearing footsteps, the artist looked up with a gratified smile as he recognised his victim. "What's the matter, Nestley?" he asked after the first greetings; "you don't look well." "I'm not well," retorted Nestley abruptly; "I'm nearly worn out by that old man--morn, noon and night I've got to be beside him--if he's paid me handsomely he's taking his full value out of me." "Yes, I think he is," replied Beaumont deliberately, "you look quite thin--not the man of three weeks ago. He must be a kind of mediæval succubus living on the blood of young men. It would be wise for you to leave him." Nestley leaned his chin on his folded arms, which were resting on the parapet of the bridge, and sighed deeply. "No--I can't do that." "Oh! I understand," said Beaumont with a sneer, beginning to smoke one of his eternal cigarettes. "What do you understand?" "Why you won't leave the Grange." "There's no difficulty in guessing that," retorted Nestley angrily, "my medical---- What the deuce are you grinning at?" "You, my friend," said Basil smiling, "your medical--what!--honour--knowledge--interest--what you like." "Don't talk rubbish." "As you please." "Look here," said Nestley, turning round with a resolute frown on his haggard face, "what is the reason I don't leave the Grange?" "Not being in your confidence I can't say, but if I may guess, I should think Una Challoner." Nestley made a gesture of assent, and turned once more to gaze moodily at the grey waters of the river. "If I only had the courage," he muttered harshly, "I would throw myself into the water and end everything." "More fool you," remarked Beaumont cynically; "men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love. Don't give Rosalind's remark the lie." "I've no doubt she loves someone else," said Nestley bitterly. "I've no doubt she does," replied Beaumont tranquilly, "but you seem quite worn out between love and sickness, so come with me to the inn and have something to eat." "I don't mind," said Nestley listlessly, "but I can't eat a thing." "Don't give way so easily, my dear fellow," said Beaumont scornfully, as they walked along; "be a man, not a baby." "You're not in love."