'It will seem to you now, Elsmere, mere Midsummer madness.

May it always seem so to you.
Forgive me.

The pressure of solitude sometimes is too great.' Elsmere looked up with one of his flashing, affectionate smiles, and took the book from Langham's hand.

He found on the open page a marked passage: "Oh swiftly passing seasons of life! There was a time when men seemed to be sincere; when thought was nourished on friendship, kindness, love; when dawn still kept its brilliance, and the night its peace.

_I can_, the soul said to itself, and _I will_; I will do all that is right--all that is natural.