he was a man who could make himself
felt. He was on his trial still of course; but he did not doubt of the
verdict. When a thing depended for success or failure on Harry alone,
Harry had never been in the habit of doubting the result. The Major had
noticed that trait in days which seemed now quite long ago; the Major
had not liked it, but in the affairs of life it probably had some value.

Except for one thing he seemed to be well settled into his new
existence. People had stopped staring at him. They had almost ceased to
talk of him. He was rapidly becoming a bygone story. Even to himself it
seemed months since he had been Tristram of Blent; he had no idea that
any plans were afoot concerning him which found their basis and
justification in his having filled that position. Except for one thing
he was quit of it all. But that remained, and in such strength as to
color all the new existence. The business of the day had not driven out
the visions of the morning. Real things should drive out fancies; it is
serious, perhaps deplorable, when the real things seem to derive at
least half their importance from the relation that they bear to the
fancies. Perhaps the proper conclusion would be that in such a case the
fancies too have their share of reality.

"Neeld and I go down to Fairholme to-morrow, Harry," said Iver as they
parted. "No chance of seeing you down there, I suppose?"

Neeld thought the question rather brutal; Iver's feelings were not
perhaps of the finest. But Harry was apparently unconscious of anything
that grated.

"Really, I don't suppose I shall ever go there again," he answered with
a laugh. "Off with the old love, you know, Mr Neeld!"

"Oh, don't say that," protested Southend.

There was a hint of some meaning in his speech which made Harry turn to
him with quick attention.

"Blent's a mere memory to me," he declared.

The three elder men were silent, but they seemed to receive what he said
with scepticism.

"Well, that's the only way, isn't it?" he asked.

"Just at present, I suppose," Southend said to him in a low voice, as he
shook hands.

These few words, with the subdued hint they carried, reinforced the
strength of the visions. Harry was rather full of his own will and proud
of his own powers just now--perhaps with some little excuse. But he
began, thanks to the bearing of these men and to the obstinate thoughts
of his own mind, to feel, still dimly, that it was a difficult thing to
for