his last words, 'there are beautiful women where you live--of
course I know there are--and they may win you away from me.' Her
tears came visibly as she drew a mental picture of his
faithlessness. 'And it won't be your fault,' she continued,
looking into the candle with doleful eyes. 'No! You will think
that our family don't want you, and get to include me with them.
And there will be a vacancy in your heart, and some others will be
let in.'

'I could not, I would not. Elfie, do not be so full of
forebodings.'

'Oh yes, they will,' she replied. 'And you will look at them, not
caring at first, and then you will look and be interested, and
after a while you will think, "Ah, they know all about city life,
and assemblies, and coteries, and the manners of the titled, and
poor little Elfie, with all the fuss that's made about her having
me, doesn't know about anything but a little house and a few
cliffs and a space of sea, far away." And then you'll be more
interested in them, and they'll make you have them instead of me,
on purpose to be cruel to me because I am silly, and they are
clever and hate me. And I hate them, too; yes, I do!'

Her impulsive words had power to impress him at any rate with the
recognition of the uncertainty of all that is not accomplished.
And, worse than that general feeling, there of course remained the
sadness which arose from the special features of his own case.
However remote a desired issue may be, the mere fact of having
entered the groove which leads to it, cheers to some extent with a
sense of accomplishment. Had Mr. Swancourt consented to an