All this I thought over a little sadly, as I sat at home that night;
and not without some self-questioning as to my own place in the
world. Most of us, I think, are a little saddened when we realise our
unimportance; most of us, no doubt, would be a little shocked could
we return a day or two after our death and see how merrily the world
wags on! I would be missed, I knew, scarcely more than Vantine. It
was not a pleasant thought, for it seemed to argue some deficiency in
myself.
Then, too, the mystery of Vantine's death had a depressing effect
upon me. So long as there seemed some theory to build on, so long as
there was a ray of light ahead, I had hoped that the tragedy would be
explained and expiated; but now my theory had crumbled to pieces; I
was left in utter darkness, from which there seemed no way out. Never
before, in the face of any mystery, had I felt so blind and helpless,
and the feeling took such a grip upon me that it kept me awake for a
long time after I got to bed. It seemed, in some mysterious way, that
I was contending with a power greater than myself, a power
threatening and awful, which could crush me with a turn of the wrist.
Vantine's will was probated next morning.
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