words had tended; it was with consciousness of a distinct purpose that he had led the conversation to Clara; hut now he was powerless to speak the words his heart prompted. Of a sudden he experienced a kind of shame, the result of comparison between himself and the simple girl who stood before him; she was so young, and the memory of passions from which he had suffered years ago affected him with a sense of unworthiness, almost of impurity. Jane had come to be his ideal of maidenhood, but till this moment he had not understood the full significance of the feeling with which he regarded her. He could not transform with a word their relations to each other. The temptation of the hour had hurried him towards an end which he must approach with more thought, more preparation of himself. It was scarcely for ten heart-beats. Then Jane raised her eyes and said in a voice that trembled:
“I’ve often wished I could see her again, and thank her for her kindness that night.”
“That will help me to think with less
