“Certainly, sir,” said Hubbard.  “I’ll burn it under the shadow of the south wall.”

Mr. Hazlewood looked up with a start.  Was it possible that Hubbard was poking fun at him?  The mere notion was incredible and indeed Hubbard shuffled with so much meekness from the room that Mr. Hazlewood dismissed it.  He went across the hall to the dining-room, where he found Henry Thresk trifling with his breakfast.  No embarrassment weighed upon Mr. Hazlewood this morning.  He effervesced with good-humour.

“I do not blame you, Mr. Thresk,” he said, “for the side you took yesterday afternoon.  You were a stranger to us in this house.  I understand your position.”

“I am not quite so sure, Mr. Hazlewood,” said Thresk drily, “that I understand yours.  For my part I have not closed my eyes all night.  You, on the other hand, seem to have slept well.”

“I did indeed,” said Hazlewood.  “I was relieved from a strain of suspense under which I have been labouring for a month past.  To have refused my consent to Richard’s marriage with Stella Ballantyne on no other grounds than that social prejudice forbade it would have seemed a complete, a stupendous reversal of my whole theory and conduct of life.  I should have become an object of ridicule.  People would have laughed at the philosopher of Little Beeding.  I have heard their laughter all this month.  Now, however, once the truth is known no one will be able to say—­”

Henry Thresk looked up from his plate aghast.

“Do you mean to say, Mr. Hazlewood, that after Mrs. Ballantyne has told her story you mean to make that story public?”

Mr. Hazlewood stared in amazement at Henry Thresk.

“But of course,” he said.

“Oh, you can’t be thinking of it!”

“But I am.  I must do it.  There is so much at stake,” replied Hazlewood.

“What?”

“The whole consistency of my life.  I must make it clear that I am not acting upon prejudice or suspicion or fear of what the world will say or for any of the conventional reasons which might guide other men.”

To Thresk this point of view was horrible; and there was no arguing against it.  It was inspired by the dreadful vanity of a narrow, shallow nature, and Thresk’s experience had never shown him anything more difficult to combat and overcome.

“So for the sake of your reputation for consistency you will make a very unhappy woman bear shame and obloquy which she might easily be spared?  You could find a thousand excuses for breaking off the marriage.”

“You put the case very harshly, Mr. Thresk,” said Hazlewood.  “But you have not considered my position,” and he went indignantly back to the library.

Thresk shrugged his shoulders.  After all if Dick Hazlewood turned his back upon Stella she would not hear the abuse or suffer the shame.  That she would take the dark journey as she declared he could not doubt.  And no one could prevent her—­not even he himself, though his heart might break at her taking it.  All depended upon Dick.