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 object: when he died, with that great object unattained, the world shrugged its shoulders and called him a fool for his pains. But I am here now. I am still young. What he could not complete I have already almost accomplished. Give me two years, old chap, and the world will stand gaping round in speechless amazement at the tearing asunder of its own veil of ignorance, torn by me from before its eyes, by me, and by my father: 'mad Tankerville' they called him! Then it will bow and fawn at my feet, place laurel wreaths on my father's tomb, and confer all the honours it can upon his memory; and I …"

"You will be sadly in need of laurel wreaths too, Girlie, by then," I said half crossly, half in grudging admiration at his enthusiasm, "for you will have worked yourself into your grave long before that halcyon time."

He pulled himself together as if he were half-ashamed of his outburst, and said, with a mirthless laugh:

"You are talking just like your Aunt Charlotte, old Mark."

I suppose my flippancy had jarred on him in his present highly nervous state. Before I finally went, I said to him:

"Promise me one thing, Girlie."

"What is it?"

"How cautious you are! Will you promise? It is for your good and for mine."

"In that case I will promise."

"Promise me that, if you want any kind of help in your work, you will send for me."

"I promise."

I did not see him for the whole of those two years. I wrote: he did not reply. I called: he would not