mes was no coward. He
feared no man on earth. But he was terribly afraid of Amelia Roper.

He wandered about through the old Manor woods very ill at ease. The
post from Guestwick went out at seven, and he must at once make up
his mind whether or no he would write to Amelia on that day. He must
also make up his mind as to what he would say to her. He felt that he
should at least answer her letter, let his answer be what it might.
Should he promise to marry her,--say, in ten or twelve years' time?
Should he tell her that he was a blighted being, unfit for love, and
with humility entreat of her that he might be excused? Or should he
write to her mother, telling her that Burton Crescent would not suit
him any longer, promising her to send the balance on receipt of his
next payment, and asking her to send his clothes in a bundle to the
Income-tax Office? Or should he go home to his own mother, and boldly
tell it all to her?

He at last resolved that he must write the letter, and as he composed
it in his mind he sat himself down beneath an old tree which stood on
a spot at which many of the forest tracks met and crossed each other.
The letter, as he framed it here, was not a bad letter, if only he
could have got it written and posted. Every word of it he chose with
precision, and in his mind he emphasised every expression which told
his mind clearly and justified his purpose. "He acknowledged himself
to have been wrong in misleading his correspondent, and allowing her
to imagine that she possessed his heart. He had not a heart at her
disposal. He had been weak not to write to her before, having been
deterred from doing so by the fear of giving her pain; but now he
felt that he was bound in honour to tell her the truth. Having
so told her, he would not return to Burton Crescent, if it would
pain her to see him there. He would always have a deep regard for
her,"--oh, Johnny!--"and would hope anxiously that her welfare in
life might be complete." That was the letter, as he wrote it on the
tablets of his mind under the tree; but the getting it put on to
paper was a task, as he knew, of greater difficulty. Then, as he
repeated it to himself, he fell asleep.

"Young man," said a voice in his ear as he slept. At first the voice
spoke as a voice from his dream without waking him, but when it was
repeated, he sat up and saw that a stout gentleman was standing over
him. For a moment he did not know where he was, or how he had come