. Baske's face was much more recoverable by his
mind's eye than Cecily's. In fact, to see Miriam cost him no effort at all;
equally at will, he heard the sound of her voice. There were times when Cecily,
her look and utterance, visited him very clearly; but this was when he did not
wish to be reminded of her. If he endeavoured to make her present, as a rule the
picturing faculty was irresponsive.
    Welcome reverie! If only he could continue to busy himself with idle
speculation concerning the strange young Puritan, and so find relief from the
anguish that beset him. Suppose now, he set himself to imagine Miriam in
unlikely situations. What if she somehow fell into poverty, was made absolutely
dependent on her own efforts? Suppose she suffered cruelly what so many women
have to suffer - toil, oppression, solitude; what would she become? Not, he
suspected, a meek martyr; anything but that, Miriam Baske. And how magnificent
to see her flash out into revolt against circumstances! Then indeed she would be
interesting.
    Nay, suppose she fell in love - desperately, with grim fate against her? For
somehow this came more easily to the fancy than the thought of her loving
without obstacle. Presumably she had never loved; her husband was out of the
question. Would she pass her life without that experience? One thing could be
affirmed with certainty; if she lost her heart to a man, it would not be to a
Puritan. He could conceive her being attracted by a strong and somewhat rude
fellow, a despiser of conventionalities, without religion, a man of brains and
blood; one whose look could overwhelm her with tumultuous scorn, and whose hand,
if need be, could crush her life out at a blow. Why not, however, a highly
polished gentleman, critical, keen of speech, deeply read, brilliant in
conversation, at once man of the world and scholar? Might not that type have
power over her? In a degree, but not so decidedly as the intellectual brute.
    Pshaw! what brain-sickness was this! What was he fallen to! Yet it did what
nothing else would, amused him for a few minutes in his pain. He recurred to it
several times, and always successfully.
    Sunday came. This evening would see Elgar back again.
    No doubt of his return had yet entered his mind. Whether Reuben would in
reality settle to some kind of work was a different question; but of course he
would come back, if it were only to say
