Rowland’s thoughts were crowding upon him fast.  If Roderick was resolute, why oppose him?  If Mary was to be sacrificed, why, in that way, try to save her?  There was another way; it only needed a little presumption to make it possible.  Rowland tried, mentally, to summon presumption to his aid; but whether it came or not, it found conscience there before it.  Conscience had only three words, but they were cogent.  “For her sake—­for her sake,” it dumbly murmured, and Rowland resumed his argument.  “I don’t know what I would n’t do,” he said, “rather than that Miss Garland should suffer.”

“There is one thing to be said,” Roderick answered reflectively.  “She is very strong.”

“Well, then, if she ’s strong, believe that with a longer chance, a better chance, she will still regain your affection.”

“Do you know what you ask?” cried Roderick.  “Make love to a girl I hate?”

“You hate?”

“As her lover, I should hate her!”

“Listen to me!” said Rowland with vehemence.

“No, listen you to me!  Do you really urge my marrying a woman who would bore me to death?  I would let her know it in very good season, and then where would she be?”

Rowland walked the length of the room a couple of times and then stopped suddenly.  “Go your way, then!  Say all this to her, not to me!”

“To her?  I am afraid of her; I want you to help me.”

“My dear Roderick,” said Rowland with an eloquent smile, “I can help you no more!”

Roderick frowned, hesitated a moment, and then took his hat.  “Oh, well,” he said, “I am not so afraid of her as all that!” And he turned, as if to depart.

“Stop!” cried Rowland, as he laid his hand on the door.

Roderick paused and stood waiting, with his irritated brow.

“Come back; sit down there and listen to me.  Of anything you were to say in your present state of mind you would live most bitterly to repent.  You don’t know what you really think; you don’t know what you really feel.  You don’t know your own mind; you don’t do justice to Miss Garland.  All this is impossible here, under these circumstances.  You ’re blind, you ’re deaf, you ’re under a spell.  To break it, you must leave Rome.”

“Leave Rome!  Rome was never so dear to me.”

“That ’s not of the smallest consequence.  Leave it instantly.”

“And where shall I go?”

“Go to some place where you may be alone with your mother and Miss Garland.”

“Alone?  You will not come?”

“Oh, if you desire it, I will come.”

Roderick inclining his head a little, looked at his friend askance.  “I don’t understand you,” he said; “I wish you liked Miss Garland either a little less, or a little more.”

Rowland felt himself coloring, but he paid no heed to Roderick’s speech.  “You ask me to help you,” he went on.  “On these present conditions I can do nothing.  But if you will postpone all decision as to the continuance of your engagement a couple of months longer, and meanwhile leave Rome, leave Italy, I will do what I can to ‘help you,’ as you say, in the event of your still wishing to break it.”