nt straight out, turning to the left as he reached the path
instead of to the right, for he could not visit the girls' school then;
and he walked home, telling himself that the disenchantment was
complete--there was that open shutter--his strange feelings for Hazel
Thorne were at an end--and he paced his study all the evening, his
bedroom half the night, with the sweet air and words of that simple
school song repeating themselves for ever in his ears.

"Why, Henry, what is the matter?" cried Beatrice Lambent the next
morning, as she came upon her brother in the dining-room, waiting for
her to make his coffee.

"Matter?" he said, flushing scarlet like a girl. "Matter?"

"Yes! you singing? I never heard you sing before in your life."

"Was I--was I singing?" he said huskily.

"Yes, that stupid, hackneyed violet song, that the children shriek at
the schools."

"Was I? Dear me, how strange! To be sure--yes. The children were
singing it while I was talking to Mr Chute yesterday. We could hear it
through the partition."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

"HENRY!"

That same day the Reverend Henry Lambent walked straight down to the
girls' school, telling himself that he was quite disenchanted now, and
that he could talk to Miss Thorne as calmly as if she were a perfect
stranger. The feverish fit had passed away, and he could laugh at the
little bit of folly; and hence it was that he kept on thinking of modest
violets and sweet perfume, and the face of Hazel Thorne was always
before him, gazing at him with her sweet pensive eyes that always seemed
so full of trouble and care. And as he walked he began thinking of what
joy it would be to try and soothe the trouble away from those eyes, and
make them look love and tenderness; and then he started, and felt what
an American would call "mighty bad," for George Canninge rode by him on
horseback, looking very frank, and manly, and handsome. He did not rein
in, but cantered on with a cheery "good morning," and as soon as he had
passed a pang of jealousy shot through the vicar's breast, worse far
than that which he had felt upon the previous day.

"He has been to call at the school," he thought; and he determined on
his own part not to go; but his legs appeared to take him on against his
will, and he found himself making excuses for Hazel Thorne.

"She could not help it, perhaps," he thought. "At any rate it is my
duty to go, and I ought to check her if she is receiving suc