d Howard, "I had thought so. I think she likes him very much."

"Well, we will leave it at that," said Mr. Sandys in high gusto. "You
don't mind my confiding in you thus, Howard? Somehow, if I may say it,
I find it very easy to speak confidentially to you. You are so
perceptive, so sympathetic! We all feel that it is the secret of your
great influence."

They talked of other matters after this as they walked along the crest
of the downs; and where the white road began to descend into the
valley, with the roofs of Windlow glimmering in the trees a little to
the north, Howard left the Vicar and retraced his steps.

He was acutely miserable; the thing had come upon him with a shock, and
brought the truth home to him in a desperate way. But he experienced at
the same time a certain sensation, for a moment, of grim relief. His
fancy, his hope--how absurd and idiotic they had been!--were shattered.
How could he ever have dreamed that the girl should come to care for
him in that way--an elderly Don of settled habits, who had even
mistaken a pompous condescension to the young men of his College for a
natural and sympathetic relation--that was what he was. The melancholy
truth stared him in the face. He was sharply disillusioned. He had
lingered on, clinging pathetically to youth, and with a serene
complacency he had overlooked the flight of time. He was a dull,
middle-aged man, fond of sentimental relations and trivial confidences,
who had done nothing, effected nothing; had even egregiously failed in
the one thing he had set himself to do, the retaining his hold on
youth. Well, he must face it! He must be content to settle down as a
small squire; he must disentangle himself from his Cambridge work
gradually--it sickened him to think of it--and he must try to lead a
quiet life, and perhaps put together a stupid book or two. That was to
be his programme. He must just try to be grateful for a clear line of
action. If he had had nothing but Cambridge to depend upon, it would
have been still worse. Now he must settle down to county business if he
could, and clear his mind of all foolish regrets. Love and marriage--he
was ten years too late! He had dawdled on, taking the line of least
resistance, and he was now revealed to himself in a true and unsparing
light. He paced swiftly on, and presently entered the wood. His feet
fell soft on the grassy road among the coverts.

Suddenly, as he turned a corner, he saw a little open glade