Instantly the text came in my head, "_How can Satan cast out Satan ?_" What?
(I thought) I had, by self-indulgence, and the following of pleasant paths, and the lure of a young maid, cast myself wholly out of conceit with my own character, and jeopardised the lives of James and Alan?
And I was to seek the way out by the same road as I had entered in?
No; the hurt that had been caused by self-indulgence must be cured by self-denial; the flesh I had pampered must be crucified.

I looked about me for that course which I least liked to follow: this was to leave the wood without waiting to see Alan, and go forth again alone, in the dark and in the midst of my perplexed and dangerous fortunes.
I have been the more careful to narrate this passage of my reflections, because I think it is of some utility, and may serve as an example to young men.

But there is reason (they say) in planting kale, and even in ethic and religion, room for common sense.

It was already close on Alan's hour, and the moon was down.

If I left (as I could not very decently whistle to my spies to follow me) they might miss me in the dark and tack themselves to Alan by mistake.