“False to myself I cannot be,” cried he; “I would rather give up my future prospects.”

“But is that sufficient?”

“I don’t understand you, Miss Garman.”

“Do you think that you would be doing yourself justice by thus evading the responsibility that your convictions give rise to?  If I were a man”—­Rachel drew herself up—­“I would go and seek the conflict, and not shirk it.”

“Neither will I shirk it, Miss Garman,” answered Johnsen.

“I hope you won’t; there are quite enough who do.”  She looked towards the house to which they were approaching, and through the open window saw Fanny and Delphin carrying on a flirtation.  Pastor Martens and Madeleine were going towards the croquet lawn, and Jacob Worse stood watching them with a cigar in his mouth.

Rachel turned quickly round to her companion and said, “I don’t know anything more despicable than when a man does not dare, either by word or deed, to declare plainly what he feels in his inner consciousness to be in opposition with generally received opinions.  A man who sneaks through life in this manner is, in my opinion, a coward.”

She went towards the house, and Johnsen remained standing for a moment, and then wandered down the path again, lost in deep thought.

Jacob Worse said to her as she passed him, “Would you like to join the croquet?  I hardly think it is right to leave your cousin to play alone with the chaplain.”

“I think you might have spared yourself that well-meant remark, Mr. Worse,” answered Rachel, in a tone which made him look at her with astonishment.  “It seems to me, on the contrary, that Madeleine is in very good company—­just the company that suits her.”

“I beg your pardon,” answered Worse, good humouredly.  “I did not mean to be indiscreet; but I cannot help feeling that your cousin is in reality of such a lively nature, it is hard for her to find vent for her spirits.”

“I did not know that Madeleine had such a concealed fund of spirits.  As a general rule, I do not much care for people who are afraid to show their feelings.”

“Afraid?” asked he, in astonishment.

“Yes; I said afraid.  What else is it but want of courage which makes a man sit down quietly and hide his thoughts, conceal his convictions, live a false life, and play a part from morning to night?  It were better to do like your friend out there”—­and she gave a toss of her head towards Delphin—­“to talk so grandly about one’s principles, and to illustrate them by paradoxes and witticisms.”

Jacob Worse now saw that he had found Rachel in a more earnest mood than he had expected.

“I have often observed,” said he, seriously, “that you always think that it is a man’s duty to speak out boldly when he finds his convictions are in danger; but allow me to explain—­”

“I don’t want to hear any explanations,” rejoined Rachel, “and you are not bound to give me any; but I repeat what I said.  It is cowardly.”