spectably to a civilized school. However, I am thankful to get you home a trifle sooner on this damp afternoon. I suppose, my dear," turning to Joan, "if we leave you at Langbarrow corner you can manage to see yourself home?"

“Oh, yes, Aunt Louisa; perfectly well!" said Joan, eagerly.

"You always were so independent, weren't you?" said Bridget, smiling kindly.

Joan despised herself for the rest of the day because she could not help the deep crimson dyeing her cheeks.

CHAPTER XV

SIMON DE RENEGIL, with life in front of him, had, without analyzing the feeling, pushed along steadily with no guide but that of his own self-interest.

He was

He had no personal objection to others succeeding so long as they did not succeed at his expense. even capable of waxing enthusiastic over the successes achieved by bank customers; and so long as an overdraft paid, he was cordiality itself. With an unselfish, generous-hearted wife he might even have developed a punctilious sober-minded open-handedness.

It is difficult to appreciate that strong steady pursuance of self-interest that possesses some men and women.

It is scarcely that they subdue their kindlier nature; that they deliberately seal up the fountains of their compassion-the ordinary common kindliness which affects so many gregarious animals; for they seem unpossessed of the kindlier nature; they affect no interest in their kind, and it is due to them to add that they claim none.

They have not even that wolf-like instinct still possessed by the dog, to hunt in packs for the common good, to strain after companionship at all costs. Rather such natures seem akin to the tiger or cat. They pursue their own ends in effective isolation.

Their souls are detached from humanity. Strong, acute, self-sufficient, they accept without misgiving the accumulated results of the accumulated sense of right, justice, and loving-kindness developed by mankind.

They reckon upon the virtues of others as their rightful support, but they themselves add nothing. Cut them clean away from human life, and humanity suddenly springs into a higher light and purity.

It is not the savage, the slum-dweller, the ill-developed humanity weed who drags back the world. It is the self-complacent solidity of the self-seeker that breaks the rush of enthusiastic race effort.

These detached souls appear as other men. They do the same kind of work; make their bargains; live their lives; but they remain untouched with the feelings of the world's infirmities. They resent those who would seek to inflame their hearts with the red-hot touch of the world's stupendous patience.

These souls abound in every rank of society, and preserve their right of detachment by closely adhering to the conventionalities of their social status, whatever it may be. If wealthy they subscribe, but subscribe the minimum unless reputable advertisement be the object of the hour. They austerely do their "duty"; but as enthusiasm is so often mistaken, so often one-sided, so often frankly absurd, they leave it alone. The safe side is necessarily the right side. A faint smile, a polite word, and the hand on the pocket has the desired effect.

Life after all is a pure game. All pieces on the board have their place. They are in the way or they are not. Their value, on whichever side, entirely depends on the importance to the main action. If it is necessary to have an exchange of pieces, a general slaughter, it is carried through. To question the feelings of the pieces would be ridiculous: they are but pieces.

Many men and women live long, and play the game out to an admirable triumph. Whether they win or not,

depends on what constitutes victory. Probably, however, they "have their reward."

Others awake half through the game. They discover suddenly that this game is not after all worth while; that the real battle is raging in mid-air, just beyond their reach, dealing harder blows and bringing larger guerdons than the earthly game. They become conscious that an intangible atmosphere is rushing past them. They perceive it, but they can not breathe it. An atmosphere which fools are calling Love and Humanity, and the God-Spirit.

They realize that their hearts have, after all, been bound up with the rest of mankind; that their splendid detachment was but a delusion. The strain tightens, the heart is torn asunder. The end is come.

What had seemed justifiable and commonplace to Simon de Renegil in his vigorous manhood was now taking upon itself an uncertain color. The clearly defined position was growing misty. If the Great End were really upon him, cui bono?

When Louisa had told him of her telegram to Denton, she had naturally expected his polite thanks. But all he Poor old Alan!"

said was,

66

Louisa was startled. She felt it incumbent upon her to have a few plain words with Simon. If not for her own sake, at least for the sake of Réné.

She was convinced from the little that she could worm out of Simon that Alan's affairs were in a serious way. It would never do to allow Simon to turn unbusinesslike. There was no good to anybody in letting the opportunity pass of rising on the ruins.

Not perhaps that Louisa very definitely acknowledged to the idea, but she put herself boldly into the position of chief advocate for common-sense.

Coming in from her drive with Bridget, she sat for a few moments with her handsome cloak over her shoulders discussing the matter.

"He's brought the whole thing upon himself!" she said, severely. "I consider the way Alan has gone on a perfect family disgrace. I only hope that he will have the grace to show his gratitude when he discovers that it is you who are finding the money to help him to a better footing. The idea of his wanting to do the thing privately without our knowing anything about it. Alan all over. So independent and so stupid!"

"Yet"

"My dear Simon, I can't in the least understand what you mean by this new attitude. If Alan is wanting money it is far better that if anything happens to him the Hall should be in the family."

"Oh, much better! but I am afraid that if anything did happen, as you say, he might kick, poor boy!"

Simon leaned back in the great armchair. He was very tired, and wished his wife would drop the subject. But she had come in refreshed by her drive and bent on conversation.

"Really, Simon, you are too absurd. If Alan's misfortunes were pure misfortunes, or even through want of business capacity, it might be different; but for a man to actually gamble away his patrimony, and disgrace his family-well, he deserves all he gets. It will do him a world of good to feel the pinch!"

"Pinches are nasty things, I believe!" A vision of rough-and-ready Alan getting him out of a troublesome. boyish scrap rose before his mental vision.

"I entirely fail to understand your attitude. You seem to think I'm hard! I perfectly agree to lending