Oh, the blessedness of absolute unconsciousness! It is enough to make one wish that death were indeed annihilation! Utter oblivion,--complete destruction,--surely this would be a greater mercy to the erring soul of man than the terrible God's-gift of Immortality,--the dazzling impress of that divine 'Image' of the Creator in which we are all made, and which we can never obliterate from our beings. I, who have realized to the full the unalterable truth of eternal life,--eternal regeneration for each individual spirit in each individual human creature,--look upon the endless futures through which I am compelled to take my part with something more like horror than gratitude. For I have wasted my time and thrown away priceless opportunities,--and though repentance may retrieve these, the work of retrieval is long and bitter. It is easier to lose a glory than to win it; and if I could have died the death that positivists hope for at the very moment when I learned the full measure of my heart's desolation, surely it would have been well! But my temporary swoon was only too brief,--and when I recovered I found myself in Lucio's own apartment, one of the largest and most sumptuously furnished of all the guest-chambers at Willowsmere,--the windows were wide open, and the floor was flooded with moonlight. As I shuddered coldly back to life and consciousness, I heard a tinkling sound of tune, and opening my eyes wearily I saw Lucio himself seated in the full radiance of the moon with a mandoline on his knee from which he was softly striking delicate impromptu melodies. I was amazed at this,--astounded that while I personally was overwhelmed with a weight of woe, _he_ should still be capable of amusing himself. It is a common idea with us all that when we ourselves are put out, no one else should dare to be merry,--in fact we expect Nature itself to wear a miserable face if our own beloved Ego is disturbed by any trouble,--such is the extent of our ridiculous self-consciousness. I moved in my chair and half rose from it,--when Lucio, still thrumming the strings of his instrument _piano pianissimo_, said-- "Keep still, Geoffrey! You'll be all right in a few minutes. Don't worry yourself." "Worry myself!" I echoed bitterly--"Why not say don't kill yourself!" "Because I see no necessity to offer you that advice at present--" he responded coolly--"and if there were necessity, I doubt if I should give it,--because I consider it better to kill one's self than worry one's self. However opinions differ. I want you to take this matter lightly." "Lightly!--take my own dishonour and disgrace lightly!" I exclaimed, almost leaping from my chair--"You ask too much!"