t for more affection than he possessed, and this had
made him careful not to fail in any duty of friendship. He was always
ready to take trouble, to advise, to help his old pupils in their
careers; but it had been done more from a sense of courtesy than from
any deeper motive.

Now, however, it was very different; he felt himself wholly preoccupied
by the thought of Maud; and he found himself looking into the secret of
love, as a man might gaze from a hill-top into a chasm where the rocky
ridges plunged into mist, doubting of his way, and mistrusting his own
strength to pursue the journey. He did not know what the quality of his
love was; he recognised an intense kind of passion, but when he looked
beyond that, and imagined himself wedded to Maud, what was the emotion
that would survive the accomplishment of his desires? Would he find
himself longing for the old, comfortable, isolated life again? did he
wish his life to be inextricably intertwined with the life of another?
He was not sure. He had a dread of having to concede an absolute
intimacy, he wished to give only as much as he chose; and then, too, he
told himself that he was too old to marry so young a girl, and that she
would be happier if she could find a more equal partner for her life.
Yet even so the thought of yielding her to another sickened him. He
believed that she had been attracted by Guthrie, and that he had but to
hold his hand and keep his distance, and the relation might broaden
into marriage. He wondered if love could begin so, so easily and
simply. He would like to have believed it could not, yet it was just so
that love did begin! And then, too, he did not know what was the nature
of Maud's feelings to himself. He thought that she had been attracted
to him, but in a sisterly sort of way; that he had come across her when
she was feeling cramped and dissatisfied, and that a friendship with
him had seemed to offer her a chance of expansion and interest.

He often thought of telling the whole story to his aunt; but like many
people who seem extraordinarily frank about their feelings and fancies,
and speak easily even of their emotions, he found himself condemned to
silence about any emotion or experience that had any serious or tragic
quality. Most people would have thought him communicative, and even
lacking in reticence. But he knew in himself that it was not so; he
could speak of his intimate ideas very readily upon slight
acquaintance, because