Being a Parenthetical Chapter on Doubt

"Thank you, John," said Barnabas, and thereafter sat staring
gloomily at the key until Peterby spoke again: "Sir, pray forgive me, but I fear you are in some trouble. Is it
your misunderstanding with Viscount Devenham? I couldn't help but
overhear, and--"

"Ah, yes--even the Viscount has quarrelled with me," sighed Barnabas,
"next it will be the Marquis, I suppose, and after him--Gad, John
Peterby--I shall have only you left!"

"Indeed, sir, you will always have me--always!"

"Yes, John, I think I shall."

"Sir, when you--gave a miserable wretch another chance to live and
be a man, you were young and full of life."

"Yes, I was very, very young!" sighed Barnabas.

"But you were happy--your head was high and your eye bright with
confident hope and purpose."

"Yes, I was very confident, John."

"And therefore--greatly successful, sir. Your desire was to cut a
figure in the Fashionable World. Well, to-day you have your
wish--to-day you are famous, and yet--"

"Well, John?"

"Sir, to-day I fear you are--not happy."

"No, I'm not happy," sighed Barnabas, "for oh! John Peterby, what
shall it profit a man though he gain the whole world, and lose his
soul!"

"Ah, sir--you mean--?"

"I mean--the Lady Cleone, John. Losing her, I lose all, and success
is worse than failure."