out of an old fallen trunk, he sat down, first laying his
overcoat on it.

'Lumbago!' he thought; 'that's what love ends in at my time of life!'
And suddenly Irene seemed very near, just as she had been that day of
rambling at Fontainebleau when they had sat on a log to eat their lunch.
Hauntingly near! Odour drawn out of fallen leaves by the pale-filtering
sunlight soaked his nostrils. 'I'm glad it isn't spring,' he thought.
With the scent of sap, and the song of birds, and the bursting of the
blossoms, it would have been unbearable! 'I hope I shall be over it by
then, old fool that I am!' and picking up his coat, he walked on into the
field. He passed the pond and mounted the hill slowly.

Near the top a hoarse barking greeted him. Up on the lawn above the
fernery he could see his old dog Balthasar. The animal, whose dim eyes
took his master for a stranger, was warning the world against him.
Jolyon gave his special whistle. Even at that distance of a hundred
yards and more he could see the dawning recognition in the obese
brown-white body. The old dog got off his haunches, and his tail,
close-curled over his back, began a feeble, excited fluttering; he came
waddling forward, gathered momentum, and disappeared over the edge of the
fernery. Jolyon expected to meet him at the wicket gate, but Balthasar
was not there, and, rather alarmed, he turned into the fernery. On his
fat side, looking up with eyes already glazing, the old dog lay.

"What is it, my poor old man?" cried Jolyon. Balthasar's curled and
fluffy tail just moved; his filming eyes seemed saying: "I can't get up,
master, but I'm glad to see you."

Jolyon knelt down; his eyes, very dimmed, could hardly see the slowly
ceasing heave of the dog's side. He raised the head a little--very
heavy.

"What is it, dear man? Where are you hurt?" The tail fluttered once; the
eyes lost the look of life. Jolyon passed his hands all over the inert
warm bulk. There was nothing--the heart had simply failed in that obese
body from the emotion of his master's return. Jolyon could feel the
muzzle, where a few whitish bristles grew, cooling already against his
lips. He stayed for some minutes kneeling; with his hand beneath the
stiffening head. The body was very heavy when he bore it to the top of
the field; leaves had drifted there, and he strewed it with a covering of
them; there was no wind, and they would keep him from curious eyes until
the afternoon. '