Lord Dennis began pacing up and down. He was keeping his lips closed very tight.
“A man who gives advice,” he said at last, “is always something of a fool. For all that, you have mistaken mine. I am not so presumptuous as to attempt to enter the inner chamber of your spirit. I have merely told you that, in my opinion, it would be more honest to yourself, and fairer to this lady, to compound with your conscience, and keep both your love and your public life, than to pretend that you were capable of sacrificing what I know is the stronger element in you for the sake of the weaker. You remember the saying, Democritus I think: 'each man's nature or character is his fate or God'. I recommend it to you.”
For a full minute Miltoun stood without replying, then said:
“I am sorry to have troubled you, Uncle Dennis. A middle policy is no use to me. Good-bye!” And without shaking hands, he went out.
CHAPTER XXII
In the hall someone rose from a sofa, and came towards him. It was Courtier.
“Run you to earth at last,” he said; “I wish you'd come and dine with me. I'm leaving England to-morrow night, and there are things I want to say.”
There passed through Miltoun's mind the rapid thought: 'Does he know?' He assented, however, and they went out together.
“It's difficult to find a quiet place,” said Courtier; “but this might do.”