e lay a cold and terrible thought in the background of his mind,
and he could not keep it out of his face; so that one of the Fellows,
drawing him aside, asked if he had a good verdict on the book, for he
seemed as one that was ill-pleased. And the Master, fearing that
Gilbert did not like the dial, came and said to him courteously that
he knew it was a new-fangled thing, but that it was useful, and in
itself not unpleasant, and that it would soon catch a grace of
congruity from the venerable walls around. "But," he added, "if you do
not like it, it shall be put in some other place." Then Gilbert
bestirred himself and said that he liked the dial very well, so that
the Master was content.

But Gilbert, as soon as he was by himself, delivered his mind up to
heavy contemplation; the vision had twice fulfilled itself, and it was
hardly to be hoped that it would fail the third time. He sent his book
to be copied out fair, and when it was gone it was as though he had
lost his companion. The hours passed very slowly and drearily; he
wrote a paper, to fill the time, of his wishes with regard to what
should be done with his books and little property after his death, and
was half minded to tear it up again. And then after a few days of
purposeless and irresolute waiting, he made up his mind that he must
go again to the West, and see his friend the old priest. And though he
did not say it to himself in words, yet a purpose slowly shaped itself
in his mind that he must at all cost go to the Hill, and learn again
what should be, and that thus alone could he break the spell.

He spent a morning in making his farewells; he tried to speak to his
friends as usual, but they noticed long afterwards that he had used a
special tenderness and wistfulness in all he said; he sate long in his
own room, with a great love in his heart for the beautiful and holy
peace of the place, and for all the happiness he had known there; and
then he prayed very long and earnestly in the chapel, kneeling in his
stall; and his heart was somewhat lightened.

Then he set off; but before he mounted his horse he looked very
lovingly at the old front of the College, and his servant saw that his
eyes were full of tears and that his lips moved; and so Gilbert rode
along to the West.

His journey was very different from the same journey taken six years
before; he spoke with none, and rode busily, like one who is anxious
to see some sad errand through. He found the