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24 sought signs and could find none. The dead remained dead to us and no answer came to all our crying.

It was a sullen AugutAugust [sic] evening, and after we had dined we walked upon the shore, listening to the slow surge of the waves and watching the lightning flicker from the bosom of a distant cloud. In silence we walked, till at last Leo groaned—it was more of a sob than a groan—and clasped my arm.

I can bear it no longer, Horace, he said—for so he called me now— I am in torment. The desire to see Ayesha once more saps my brain. Without hope I shall go quite mad. And I am strong, I may live another fifty years.

What then can you do ? I asked.

I can take a short road to knowledge—or to peace, he answered solemnly. I can die, and die I will—yes, to-night.

I turned upon him angrily, for his words filled me with fear.

Leo, you are a coward! I said. Cannot you bear your part of pain as—others do?

You mean as you do, Horace, he answered with a dreary laugh, for on you also the curse lies—with less cause. Well, you are stronger than I am, and more tough; perhaps because you have lived longer. No, I cannot bear it. I will die.

It is a crime, I said, the greatest insult you can offer to the Power that made you, to cast back its gift of life as a thing outworn, contemptible and despised. A crime, I say, which will bring with it worse punishment than any you can dream; perhaps even the punishment of everlasting separation.

Does a man stretched in some torture-den commit a crime if he snatches a knife and kills himself, Horace? Perhaps; but surely that sin should find forgiveness—if torn flesh and quivering nerves may plead for mercy. I am such a man, and I will use that knife and take my