"Are you thinking, Sir Philip, of my rough speeches to you yonder? No
offense was meant, no offense! . . ." the old fellow paused, and laughed
over his wine-glass. "Yet I may as well be honest about it! Offense
_was_ meant; but when I found that none was taken, my humor changed."
A slight, half-weary smile played on Errington's lips. "I assure you,
sir," he said, "I agreed with you then and agree with you now in every
word you uttered. You took my measure very correctly, and allow me to
add that no one can be more conscious of my own insignificance that I am
myself. The days we live in are insignificant; the chronicle of our
paltry doings will be skipped by future readers of the country's
history. Among a society of particularly useless men, I feel myself to
be one of the most useless. If you could show me any way to make my life
valuable--"
He paused abruptly, and his heart beat with inexplicable rapidity. A
light step and the rustle of a dress was heard coming through the porch;
another perfumed shower of rose-leaves fell softly on the garden path;
the door of the room opened, and a tall, fair, white-robed figure shone
forth from the dark background of the outer passage; a figure that
hesitated on the threshold, and then advanced noiselessly and with a
reluctant shyness.
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