Sir Richard drank avidly, and sighed content when he returned the glass.

"How long yet, Justin ?" he inquired.
"Not long, father," was the gloomy answer.
"It is well.

I am content.

I am happy, Justin.

Believe me, I am happy.
What has my life been?
Dissipated in the pursuit of a phantom." He spoke musingly, critically calm, as one who already upon the brink of dissolution takes already but an impersonal interest in the course he has run in life.
Judging so, his judgment was clearer than it had yet been; it grew sane, and was freed at last from the hackles of fanaticism; and there was something that he saw in its true proportions.