any excuse for me you like," he added with a smile as he left
the room. Aunt Charlotte remained transfixed.

"I suppose he must go his own gait," she muttered, as she picked up
her knitting again. "There's no use in trying to force him this way
or that; if he doesn't want to do a thing he won't do it. Of course
what he says is true enough--I did let him choose the date, and I did
ask these people because I thought it would be good for him, and I did
insist on doing so when he begged me not to. Well, I'm hoist with my
own petard this time, though I wouldn't confess as much to him if my
life depended on it. But the trickery of the little wretch! It's that
I can't get over."

Meanwhile Austin meditated on the little episode on his side, as he
made his way along the road. "I daresay dear old auntie was a bit put
out," he thought, "but she brought it all upon herself. She doesn't
see that everybody must live his own life, that it's a duty one owes
to oneself to realise one's own individuality. Now it's _bad_ for me
to associate with people I detest--bad for my soul's development; just
as bad as it is for anyone's body to eat food that doesn't agree with
him. Those MacTavishes poison my soul just as arsenic poisons the
body, and I won't have my soul poisoned if I can help it. It's very
sad to see how blind she is to the art and philosophy of life. But
she'll have to learn it, and the sooner she begins the better."

Here he left the high road, and turned into a long, narrow lane
enclosed between high banks, which led into a pleasant meadow by the
river side. This shortened the way considerably, and when he reached
the stile at the further end of the meadow he found himself only some
ten minutes' walk from the park gates. Then a subdued excitement fell
upon him. He was going to see the beautiful picture-gallery and the
great collection of engravings, and the gardens with conservatories
full of lovely orchids. He was going to hold delightful converse with
the cultured and agreeable man to whom all these things belonged.
And--well, he might possibly even see a ghost! But now, in the genial
daylight, with the prospect of luncheon immediately before him, the
idea of ghosts seemed rather to retire into the background. Ghosts did
not appear so attractive as they had done yesterday afternoon, when he
had talked about them with Lubin. However--here he was.

Mr St Aubyn, tall and middle-aged, with a refined face set in a short,
poi