higher tribunals. In this manner his ambition would be amply
satisfied. His aim was to progress slowly but solidly, without splurge
or notoriety, so that every one might regard him as a man of sound
dispassionate judgment, and solid, keen understanding. His especial
antipathy was for so-called cranks--people who went off at half-cock,
who thought nothing out, but were governed by the impulse of the
moment, shilly-shally and controlled by sentimentality.

It was with hope and yet with his heart in his mouth that he set out
one afternoon determined to ask Emily Vincent to become his wife. She
lived in the suburbs, within fifteen minutes by the train, or an
hour's walk from town. Gorham took the cars. It was a beautiful day,
almost the counterpart of that which they had passed together at the
Lawfords' just a year before. As he sat in the train he analyzed the
situation once more for the hundredth time, taking care not to give
himself the advantage of any ambiguous symptoms. Certainly she was not
indifferent to him; she accepted his attentions without demur, and
seemed interested in his interests. But was that love? Was it any more
than esteem or cordial liking, which would turn to pity at the first
hint of affection on his part? But surely she could not plead
ignorance of his intentions; she must long ere this have realized that
he was seriously attentive to her. Still, girls were strange
creatures. He could not help feeling nervous, because so very much was
involved for him in the result. Should she refuse him, he would be and
remain for a long time excessively unhappy. He obliged himself to
regard this alternative, and his heart sank before the possibility.
Not that the idea of dying or doing anything desperate presented
itself to him. Such extravagance would have seemed out of keeping with
respect either for her or for himself. Doubtless he might recover some
day, but the interim would be terribly hard to endure. Rejection meant