'Utterly!'
'How—and why?'
'I don't know—at the last moment, somehow,' said he, despondently, looking down on the carpet.
'Ellinor, no doubt, was the cause?' said Mary, softly.
He smiled bitterly, but made no reply.
'You will try again, Robert dear?' said Mary, patting his hand.
'Never, Mary,' he replied, in a low, husky voice; 'God only knows how I toiled and toiled, at botany, anatomy, and chemistry—Balfour and Quain and Miller, and with what object; but I have taken my last shot, and shall grind no more.'
'And what do you mean to do, Robert?'
'Heaven knows—you will hear in time, Mary.'
She eyed him wistfully and sorrowfully, and then said,