I say is, that I do not trust him till I have seen him tried.'

Laura did not answer, she was disappointed; yet there was a justice and
guardedness in what Philip said, that made it impossible to gainsay
it, and she was pleased with his confidence. She thought how cool and
prudent he was, and how grieved she should be if Guy justified his
doubts; and so they walked on in such silence as is perhaps the
strongest proof of intimacy. She was the first to speak, led to do so
by an expression of sadness about her cousin's mouth. 'What are you
thinking of, Philip?'

'Of Locksley Hall. There is nonsense, there is affectation in that,
Laura, there is scarcely poetry, but there is power, for there is
truth.'

'Of Locksley Hall! I thought you were at Stylehurst.'

'So I was, but the one brings the other.'

'I suppose you went to Stylehurst while you were at St. Mildred's? Did
Margaret take you there?'

'Margaret? Not she; she is too much engaged with her book-club, and her
soirees, and her societies of every sort and kind.'

'How did you get on with the Doctor?'

'I saw as little of him as I could, and was still more convinced that he
does not know what conversation is. Hem!' Philip gave a deep sigh. 'No;
the only thing to be done at St. Mildred's is to walk across the moors
to Stylehurst. It is a strange thing to leave that tumult of gossip, and
novelty, and hardness, and to enter on that quiet autumnal old world,
with the yellow leaves floating silently down, just as they used to do,
and the atmosphere of stillness round the green churchyard.'

'Gossip!' repeated Laura.' Surely not with Margaret?'

'Literary, scientific gossip is worse than gossip in a primary sense,
without pretension.'

'I am glad you had Stylehurst to go to. How was the old sexton's wife?'

'Very well; trotting about on her pattens as merrily as ever.'

'Did you go into the garden?'

'Yes; Fanny's ivy has entirely covered the south wall, and the acacia is
so tall and spreading, that I longed to have the pruning of it. Old Will
keeps everything in its former state.'

They talked on of the old home, till the stern bitter look of regret and
censure had faded from his brow, and given way to a softened melancholy
expression.

CHAPTER 4

A fig for all dactyls, a fig for all spondees,
A fig for all dunces and dominie grandees.
--SCOTT

'How glad I am!' exclaimed Guy, entering the draw