CONFIDENCE
newspapers say, mentioned in connexion with that of his friend's wife. The discovery greatly disgusted him. Bernard Longueville's chronicler must do him the justice to say that it failed to yield him an even transient thrill of pleasure. He thought it very improbable that this vulgar rumour had reached Gordon Wright's ears; but he nevertheless—very naturally—instantly made up his mind to leave the house. He lost no time in saying to Gordon that he had suddenly determined to go to California, and that he was sure he must be glad to get rid of him. Gordon expressed no surprise and no regret. He simply laid his hand on his shoulder, and said, very quietly, looking at him in the eyes—
"Very well; the pleasantest things must come to an end."
It was not till an hour afterwards that Bernard said to himself that his friend's manner of receiving the announcement of his departure had been rather odd. He had neither said a word about his staying longer nor urged him to come back again, and there had been (it now seemed to Bernard) an audible undertone of relief in the single sentence with which he assented to his visitor's withdrawal. Could it be possible that poor Gordon was jealous of him, that he had heard this idiotic fiction, or that his own observation had given him an alarm? He had certainly never betrayed the smallest sense of injury. But it was to be remembered that even if he were uneasy, Gordon was quite capable, with his characteristic habit of weighing everything, his own honour included, in scrupulously adjusted scales, of denying himself the luxury of active suspicion. He would never have let a vague suspicion make a difference in his conduct; and he would not have dissimulated; he would simply have resisted belief. His hospitality had been without a flaw, and if he
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