walked upstairs and entered Snowdon's room. To
Sidney there was always something peculiarly impressive in the first
view of this quiet chamber; simple as were its appointments, it
produced a sense of remoteness from the common conditions of life.
Invariably he subdued his voice when conversing here. A few flowers
such as can be bought in the street generally diffused a slight scent
through the air, making another peculiarity which had its effect on
Sidney's imagination. When Jane moved about, it was with a soundless
step; if she placed a chair or arranged things on the table, it was as
if with careful avoidance of the least noise. When his thoughts turned
hitherwards, Sidney always pictured the old man sitting in his familiar
mood of reverie, and Jane, in like silence, bending over a book at the
table. Peace, the thing most difficult to find in the world that Sidney
knew, had here made itself a dwelling.

He shook hands with Snowdon and seated himself. A few friendly words
were spoken, and the old man referred to an excursion they had agreed
to make together on the morrow, the general holiday.

'I'm very sorry,' replied Kirkwood, 'but it'll be impossible for me to
go.'

Jane was standing near him; her countenance fell, expressing uttermost
disappointment.

'Something has happened,' pursued Sidney, 'that won't let me go away,
even for a few hours. I don't mean to say that it would really prevent
me, but I should be so uneasy in my mind all the time that I couldn't
enjoy myself, and I should only spoil your pleasure. Of course you'll
go just the same?'

Snowdon reassured him on this point. Jane had just been about to lay
supper; she continued her task, and Sidney made a show of sharing the
meal. Soon after, as if conscious that Sidney would speak with more
freedom of his trouble but for her presence, Jane bade them good-night
and went to her own room. There ensued a break in the conversation;
then Kirkwood said, with the abruptness of one who is broaching a
difficult subject:

'I should like to tell you what it is that's going wrong with me. I
don't think anyone's advice would be the least good, but it's a
miserable affair, and I shall feel better for speaking about it.'

Snowdon regarded him with eyes of calm sympathy. There is a look of
helpful attention peculiar to the faces of some who have known much
suffering; in this instance, the grave force of character which at all
times made the countenance impressive