He fancied that by returning home he might
regain confidence. He longed to rid himself of the conviction that
he was "set aside" by some fate or other, call it God or not as you
please. He thought that he hurt all those whom he loved when his
only longing was to do them good. He used suddenly to leave his
friends because he thought that he was doing them harm. It was as
though he heard some Power saying to him: "I marked you out for my
own in the beginning and you can't escape me. You may struggle as
you like. Until you surrender everything shall turn to dust in your
hands." He came back to England determined to assert his
independence.
He gazed now at the placidity of Garrick Street with the intensity
of some challenging "Stand and Deliver!" All that the street had to
give for the moment was a bishop and an actor mounting the steps of
the Garrick Club, an old lady with a black bonnet and a milk-jug, a
young man in a hurry and a failure selling bootlaces. None of them
could be expected to offer reassurance to Martin--none of these
noticed him--but an intelligent observer, had such a stranger to
Garrick Street been present, might have found that gaze of interest.
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