the other
party. Let me be alone to the end of the world, rather than that my
friend should overstep, by a word or look, his real sympathy. I am
equally baulked by antagonism and by compliance. Let him not cease an
instant to be himself.... Better be a nettle in the side of your friend
than his echo."

Malcolm had uttered the last sentence in rather a tragic tone, but he
was somewhat offended when the girl laughed. "What an odd idea!" she
observed innocently. "I should strongly object to anything so stinging
as a nettle; perhaps it is because I am a woman that I should prefer
the echo;" but Malcolm, who had received a douche of cold water from
this feminine criticism, declined to be drawn into a discussion on the
subject.

"Women are so illogical," he muttered angrily, and Anna's heaven of
content was suddenly clouded. Malcolm's approval was vitally necessary
to her happiness--a chilling word from him had power to spoil the
fairest landscape and blot out the sunshine; nevertheless she took her
rebuff meekly and without retort.

A mere chance, an accident in the destinies of both men, had brought
about this acquaintance between Malcolm Herrick and Cedric Templeton.
The vice-president of Magdalene was an old friend of the Herrick
family, and was indeed distantly related to Mrs. Herrick; and after
Malcolm had taken his degree and left Lincoln, he often spent a week or
two with Dr. Medcalf. He was an old bachelor, and one of the most
sociable of men, and his rooms were the envy of his friends. Malcolm
was a great favourite with him, and was always welcome when he could
spare time to run down for a brief visit.

About two years before, he was spending a few days with his friend,
when one evening as he was strolling down Addison's Walk in the
gloaming, his attention was attracted by a young undergraduate. He was
seated on a bench with his head in his hands; but at the sound of
passing footsteps he moved slightly, and Malcolm caught sight of a
white boyish face and haggard eyes that looked at him a little wildly;
then he covered his face again. Malcolm walked on a few steps; his kind
heart was shocked at the lad's evident misery, but to his reserved
nature it was never easy to make the first advance; indeed, he often
remarked that he had rather a fellow-feeling with the Levite who passed
by on the other side.

"I daresay he was sorry for the poor traveller in his heart," he
observed, "but it takes a deal of moral coura