taking his part: if you stand firm, so will I.
But I wanted to tell you this, that you may know how to meet him."

For a while the brothers paced the dark walls in silence. Under the
falling dew the scent of honeysuckle lay heavy in the garden.
Years later, in his country rides, a whiff from the hedgerow would
arrest Charles as he pondered a hymn to the beat of his horse's
hoofs, and would carry him back to this hour. John's senses were
less acute, and all his thoughts for the moment turned inward.

"I have done wrong," he announced at length and walked hastily
towards the house.

In the hall he met his father coming out. "Sir," he said, "I have
behaved undutifully. I have neglected you and set myself to
contradict you. I was seeking you to beg your forgiveness."

To his amazement the Rector put a hand on either shoulder, stooped
and kissed him.

"It was a heavy sorrow to me, Jack. Now I see that you are good at
bottom; and to-morrow, if you wish, you shall write for me.
Nay, come into the study now, and see the work that is ready for
you."

In the light of the study lamp John saw that his father's eyes were
wet.

CHAPTER XVI.

Late in September, having been chosen to preach on St. Michael's Day
in St. Michael's Church the sermon annually delivered by a Fellow of
Lincoln, John travelled up to Oxford, whither Charles followed him a
week or two later, to take up his residence in Christ Church, and be
matriculated on the first day of the October term.

John had deferred his journey to the last moment, in order to stand
godfather to Nancy's healthy firstborn. John Lambert--honest man and
proud father--had honoured the event with a dinner, and very nearly
wrecked his own domestic peace by sending out the invitations in his
own hand and including Mr. and Mrs. Wright. For weeks after, Nancy
shuddered to think what might have happened if Hetty and her father
had come face to face at the ceremony or the feast. By good luck--or
rather by using her common sense and divining the mistake--Hetty
refused. Her husband, however, insisted on attending, and she let
him go. With _his_ presence the Rector could not decently quarrel.

"But look here," said he, "I am getting tired of the line the old man
takes. It wasn't in our bond: he waited to spring it on me after the
wedding. If I can overlook things, he should be able to, and I've a
mind to tell him so." He urged her to come. But Hetty pleaded that
she