“We are masters of our acts--not of our impulses. You strike a bell and it clangs. You strike a man and the devil leaps out at his eyes. It’s in the rebound that the thought comes that decides the act. In this case yours was natural to yourself, for you are a good fellow.” “And so are you, a hundred times over, to take it so. You don’t know the terror it has been to me--that it must be to me still in a measure. The account may balance; but still----” “Well?” “The boy--my brother--died.” “Yes--after you had tried to save him.” “Duke--Duke, you can’t hold me not to blame.” “I don’t, indeed. You were very much to blame for not retreating when your better angel gave you the chance. It’s for that you’ll be called to account some day--not the other.” “Well, I’ll stand up and cry ‘peccavi!’” I said, sadly. “Renny,” said Duke, from the shadow of his side of the room, “what’s this elder brother of yours like?” I explained Jason’s appearance to the best of my power. “Ah,” he said, quietly, “I thought so.” “What do you mean?” “Nothing. Only I saw him this afternoon taking the bearings of the office from t’other side the street.” “Very likely. He mentioned something about using my influence with Ripley to give him a berth later on. Probably he was debating his ground.” “You haven’t given your confidence to any one but me in this matter?” “No.” “Do you intend to?” “If you think it right. Shall I tell Ripley?” “It’s my opinion you should. Forestall your brother in every direction.” “Well, yours and his are the only two that concerns me.” “One other, Renny.” “Who?” “Dolly.” He leaned forward and looked at me with such intensity of earnestness that his black eyes seemed to pierce to my very soul. “Shall I,” he said--and his gaze never left my face--“shall I acknowledge your confidence with another?” “It shall be sacred, Duke,” I answered low, “if it refers to past or present.” He threw himself back with a sudden wail. “To both!” he cried; “to both!” He was himself again directly. “Bah!” he cried; “what a woman I am! Renny, you shall for once find me sick of philosophy and human.” I resumed my seat, fairly dumfounded at this revelation of unwonted depths in my friend, and stared at him in silence; once more he leaned forward and seemed to read me through. “Renny, tell me--do you wish to make Dolly your wife?” “Duke, upon my soul I don’t know.” “Do you love her?” “If I thought I did, as you meant it, I could answer your first question.” “And you can’t?” “No, I can’t.” “Renny, make her happy. She loves you with all her heart.” “Would that be fair to her, Duke? Let me know my own mind first.”