to mix themselves inconveniently with the struggles of long
ago. Visions of a grey uniform came blending in dissolving
views with the visions of monarchs in their robes of state and
soldiers in heavy armour; it meant much, that grey uniform;
and a sense of loss and want and desolation by degrees crept
over me, which had nothing to do with the ruin of kingdoms.
The books grew heavy; my hands trembled; yet still I tried to
make good work, and bade myself deal with the present and let
the past and the future alone. The "present" being represented
by my school day and my studies. Could I do it? The past and
the future rushed in at last, from opposite sides as it were,
and my "present" was overthrown. I dropped my books and myself
too, as nearly as possible; my heart gave way in a deep
passion of tears.

Now I tried to reason myself out of this. What had I lost? I
asked myself. What were these tears for? What had I lost, that
I had not been without until only twelve hours before? Indeed
rather, what had I not gained? But my reasonings were of no
use. Against them all, some vision of Thorold's face, some
sparkle of his eyes, some touch of his hand, would come back
to me, and break down my power and unlock fresh fountains of
tears. This passion of self-indulgence was not like me, and
surprised myself. I suppose the reason was, I had been so long
alone; I had been working my way and waiting, in exile from
home as it were, so many days and years; nobody that loved me
better than I loved myself had been near me for so very long;
that the sweetness so suddenly given and so suddenly taken
away left me a little unsteady. Was it wonderful? The joy and
the grief were both new; I was not braced for either; the one