Cashel Byron's Profession

"I must confess that I do not. Either you have lost your reason, or

I have. I wish you had never taking to reading 'Faust.'"

"It is my fault. I began an explanation, and rambled off, womanlike,

into praise of my lover. However, I will not attempt to complete my

argument; for if you do not understand me from what I have already

said, the further you follow the wider you will wander. The truth,

in short, is this: I practically believe in the doctrine of

heredity; and as my body is frail and my brain morbidly active, I

think my impulse towards a man strong in body and untroubled in mind

a trustworthy one. You can understand that; it is a plain

proposition in eugenics. But if I tell you that I have chosen this

common pugilist because, after seeing half the culture of Europe, I

despaired of finding a better man, you will only tell me again that

I have lost my reason."

"I know that you will do whatever you have made up your mind to do,"

said Lucian, desolately.

"And you will make the best of it, will you not?"

"The best or the worst of it does not rest with me. I can only

accept it as inevitable."

"Not at all. You can make the worst of it by behaving distantly to

Cashel; or the best of it by being friendly with him."

Lucian reddened and hesitated. She looked at him, mutely encouraging

him to be generous.

"I had better tell you," he said. "I have seen him since--since--"

Lydia nodded. "I mistook his object in coming into my room as he

did, unannounced. In fact, he almost forced his way in. Some words

arose between us. At last he taunted me beyond endurance, and

offered me--characteristically--twenty pounds to strike him. And I

am sorry to say that I did so."

"You did so! And what followed?"

"I should say rather that I meant to strike him; for he avoided me,

or else I missed my aim. He only gave the money and went away,

evidently with a high opinion of me. He left me with a very low one

of myself."

"What! He did not retaliate!" exclaimed Lydia, recovering her color,

which had fled. "And you STRUCK him!" she added.

"He did not," replied Lucian, passing by the reproach. "Probably he

despised me too much."

"That is not fair, Lucian. He behaved very well--for a

prize-fighter! Surely you do not grudge him his superiority in the

very art you condemn him for professing."