"He did what he said he would do," I said, "and the result was misery.

Lives were wrecked, and he obtained no satisfaction for himself."

"But did he not confess that he had happiness while he was making the experiments?"

"Perhaps he did, until his deeds bore fruit," was my reply.

"Ah yes, that is it," and her voice was eager. "After all, what is the use of a humdrum existence? Some people," and she spoke almost bitterly, "are born handicapped. I think with you that, for most people, our present mode of life is the outcome of a long period of evolution.

Customs have become laws, and these laws have hardened until, if one breaks them, he, or she, is banned--condemned. All the same, they are artificial and they should not apply to exceptional circ.u.mstances. Do you believe there is a G.o.d, Mr. Erskine?"

"There seems to be a consensus of opinion that there is," was my reply.

"If there is, do you think He intends us to be happy? Do you think He would condemn us for s.n.a.t.c.hing at our only means of happiness?"

I tried to understand the drift of her mind, but could not.

"I don't know whether there is a G.o.d or not," she said. "Even all feeling of Him is kept from me. Neither do I believe there is a future life. Do you?"

I was silent, for she had touched upon a sore spot.

"We have only this little life, and that being so, ought we not to s.n.a.t.c.h, as a matter of duty, anything that will make this life happy?

Let me put a common case to you. I knew a lad who was doomed to die between twenty and thirty. He was the victim of an hereditary disease. A year before he died, and knowing that he would die, he married the girl he loved. People called it a crime, but to me it was his only chance of happiness, and he seized it. Was he not right?"

"I don't know," I said.

"Some people are handicapped, Mr. Erskine. They are born into the world with limitations, kinks in their characters, and a host of wild longings--things which make life a tragedy. They cannot obtain happiness in the way ordinary people do. Why, then, is it wrong for them to try and s.n.a.t.c.h at the happiness they can get?"

"That sounds all right," I said, "only I doubt the happiness."

"Napoleon broke through conventional barriers," she urged. "He said he could not be governed by ordinary laws."

"Exactly," I replied. "But then, for one thing, Napoleon was a genius, and, for another, his great career ended in a fiasco."

"Yes; but if being a genius justifies breaking away from the established order of things, do not peculiar limitations also justify it? Do not abnormalities of any sort justify extraordinary measures? If there is a G.o.d, Mr. Erskine, we are as G.o.d made us, and surely He does not give us life to mock us?"

"The worst of it is that facts laugh at us. As far as I can discover, nearly all these experiments end in bitter failure. It is by abiding by the common laws of life that we find what measure of happiness there is."

"If I were sure there was a G.o.d and a future life I think I could agree with you," was her reply.

"And you are not?"

"How can one be?" she replied. "It all seems so unreal, so utterly unconvincing. My father sticks by his Chapel, but does he believe what he hears there? Most people accept for granted what isn't proved. They say they believe, but they have no convictions. No one is certain.

Sometimes I go to hear Mr. Trelaske, and it is just the same at the Parish Church. If religion were true, it should be triumphant; but there seems nothing triumphant about it. Everything is on the surface. Again and again I have asked so-called Christians if they believe in a future life, and when one goes to the depths of things they can only say they hope so. Were not the old Greeks right when they said, 'Let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die'?"

"You are in rather a curious mood for a young lady," I said, with a laugh. "Here you are, situated in this lovely home, with health and beauty and all that makes life worth living, and yet you talk like this."

"What is the good of anything, everything, if you are forever yearning for something which you never realize, when you find that at the end of every road of desire is a great blank wall: when the things you pa.s.sionately long for only end in disappointment?"

"Surely that is not your condition, Miss Lethbridge?"

"I don't know," she replied, and there was a touch of impatience in her voice. "One doesn't know anything. We are all so comfortable. Every one seems to have enough to eat and to drink; we have houses to live in; we are, in our way, very prosperous, and, superficially, we are content.

But life is so little, so piteously mean and little, and no one seems to know of anything to make it great. We never seem to overstep the barriers which keep us from entering a greater and brighter world. Is there a greater and better world?"

At that moment Mr. Lethbridge senior entered the room, and our conversation ended.

XI

MARY TRELEAVEN

"Seen to-day's papers, Mr. Erskine?" he said, after our first greeting.

"I am afraid I haven't."

"You do surprise me."

"I fancy I have become pretty much of a hermit, Mr. Lethbridge, and I have scarcely enough interest in what is going on to open a newspaper."

"Things are very bad," he said gloomily.

"Bad! How?"

"We are threatened to be mixed up in this Eastern trouble. The whole thing has got entangled. Some Servian a.s.sa.s.sins have murdered the Crown Prince of Austria. Austria made certain demands on Servia. Russia supports Servia, whereupon Germany steps in and threatens Russia; but the thing doesn't end there. The alliance between France and Russia drags France in, and then the _Entente Cordiale_ between France and England causes us to interfere. Sir Edward Grey made a most pessimistic statement last night. It seems as though we might go to war."

"You remember what I said the last time I was here, Mr. Lethbridge?"

"Yes, I know; but it is madness, pure madness. Think what it would mean.

The whole trade of the country would be crippled. For that matter the trade of the world would practically stop. We were just beginning to recover ourselves from the effect of the Boer War, and to place the finances of the country upon a solid foundation, and now----It's madness, pure madness. Just as our country seemed to be entering upon another era of prosperity. If there is a war hundreds of people will be ruined. Great firms will come tottering down like ninepins. Besides, think how we should all be taxed."

"That is the way you look at it, is it?"

"How can I help looking at it in that way?" he replied. "Why, think, I have just formed a company for working a petrol mine in Austria. Nearly a million of money has been raised, and is practically in the hands of the Austrians. We shall probably never see a penny of our money back.

What right has England to go bothering with what Germany, or Russia, or Austria does? Why can't we attend to our own business?"

"I must get hold of the papers," I said. "I must try and see how we stand."

"Oh, of course, Grey makes a good case. Here is the difficulty, you see.

We signed a treaty in which we are engaged to protect Belgium; Germany won't promise not to invade Belgium in order to attack France. But why should we bother about old treaties? What have we got to do with Belgium? I did think this Government had the sense to avoid war. If the Tory party had been in we might have expected it; but there it is."

"Then Sir Edward Grey really thinks there is danger of war with Germany?" I asked.

"Things look very black," was his reply.

"If such a thing comes to pa.s.s," I could not help saying, "the whole Empire will be in danger."

"What, the British Empire in danger! You don't mean that?"