for me all that I had sought to find diffused through Nature, and at the same time she stood forth to me as an equal of my own kind, with as great a capacity for life.  At first I had a vision of our living and reigning together, so to say, though the word may seem to you absurd; but I soon discovered that there was a gulf fixed between us,—­the gulf of the life I had lived; she stood pure where I had stood a dozen years ago.  So, gradually, she subverted my whole scheme of life; more and more, without knowing it, she made me see and judge myself with her eyes, till I felt altogether abased before her.  But that which finally stripped the veil from me, and showed me myself as the hateful incarnation of relentlessly devouring Self, was my influence upon her, which culminated in the event of last night.  Can you conceive how I was smitten and pierced with horror by the discovery that rose on me like a nightmare, that even on her sweet, pure, sumptuous life, I had unwittingly begun to prey?  For that discovery flung wide the door of the future and showed me what I would become.

“Beautiful, calm, divine Nora!  If I could but have continued near her without touching her, to delight in the thought and the sight of her, as one delights in the wind and the sunshine!  But it could not be.  I could only appear fit company for her if I refreshed and strengthened myself as I had been wont; but my new disgust of myself, and pity for my victims, made me shudder at the thought.  What then?  Here I am, and the time has come (as that old doctor said it would) when death appears more beautiful and friendly and desirable than life.  Forgive me, Lefevre—­forgive me on Nora’s part,—­and forgive me in the name of human nature.”

Lefevre could not reply for the moment.  He sat convulsed with heartrending sobs.  He put out his hand to Julius.

“No, no!” exclaimed Julius, “I must not take your hand.  You know I must not.”

“Take my hand,” cried Lefevre.  “I know what it means.  Take my life!  Leave me but enough to recover.  I give it you freely, for I wish you to live.  You shall not die.  By heaven! you shall not die.  O Julius, Julius! why did you not tell me this long ago?  Science has resource enough to deliver you from your mistake.”

“Lefevre,” said Julius,—­and his eyes sparkled with tears and his weakening voice was choked,—­“your friendship moves me deeply—­to the soul.  But science can do nothing for me:  science has not yet sufficient knowledge of the principle on which I lived.  Would you have me, then, live on,—­passing to and fro among mankind merely as a blight, taking the energy of life, even from whomsoever I would not?  No, I must die!  Death is best!”

“I will not let you die,” said Lefevre, rising to take a pace or two on the deck.  “You shall come home with me.  I shall feed your life—­there are dozens besides myself who will be glad to assist—­till you are healed of the devouring demon you have raised within you.”