“There, that is all,” he said in conclusion; “and I am glad there's no more.” “Why?” asked Ella. “Because you want a holiday,--a respite from the worry of affairs. Enthusiasms entail an expenditure of vital force; so there are times when the temperament is at a low ebb, and ought to be treated with gentle indulgence.” “Do you think I am at low ebb, Mr. Usher?” “You are tired,--a little _mal de vivre_. Isn't it so?” He said it so kindly that her first impulse of resentment died away. “How do you know I'm not simply physically out of sorts? I was dancing till four this morning and till three the morning before.” He smiled with a touch of indulgent superiority. “As a sailor who knows the sea reads all its moods on its surface, so I read yours in your eyes. Confess. You have been feeling the burthen of life and have not known whence came its heaviness; and you have been longing for relief in the fresh, cool arms of Mother Nature.” “Perhaps,” she said, looking away from him. “You are not offended?” he said, after a pause. He had a very musical voice, trained to modulation of feelings. “My heart is always near my lips and at times speaks indiscreetly.” Ella turned round with a short laugh. “No, I am not offended. Of course not. But it was scarcely fair to turn me inside out like that without warning.” Immediately she regretted her confession. His acute perception had half flattered, half frightened her. She felt now that she had yielded some of her ground. She strove to regain it. “But it's all nonsense,” she added. “And very contemptible, just because it's a close day, with a stuffy dinner-party looming ahead.” “Phases of morale are never nonsense,” he replied. “No one knows what unrest is better than I. We must find the remedy.” “What do you suggest?” “Happiness.” “What is happiness?” “The pursuit of the ideal on the wings of--” “Of what?” “Dare I say it--in all delicacy? Of love.” Ella again turned her face aside, uncertain whether to resent the implication or to make a light answer. Her hesitation was his opportunity. “I, too, have been feeling depressed of late,” he said. “All pleasure has in time to be paid for with pain. In a few months our scheme will be launched,--the scheme that you and I have built up with pieces of our hearts,--and I shall go away to end my life in carrying out its working. I shall be alone. My helper and sweet comrade will no longer be by my side. Thus I, too, sigh for happiness.” He smiled sadly, but she saw that his eyes were regarding her keenly from behind his gold pince-nez. “We won't think of that,” she said hastily. “So many things may happen between then and now.” Roderick rose, rested his hand on the back of her chair, and bent over her.