given faintly that morning, as faintly as if it had only just entered
my mind, instead of having for months continually dwelt there, until
a fitting moment should arrive?--Could it be that this hint, which he
had indignantly scouted at the time, was germinating in his acute
brain, and might bear fruit in future days? I hoped so--I earnestly
prayed so. And to that end I took no notice, but let it silently
grow.

The June evening came and went. The service-bell rang out and
ceased. First, deep shadows, and then a bright star, appeared over
the Abbey-tower. We watched it from the garden, where, Sunday after
Sunday, in fine weather, we used to lounge, and talk over all manner
of things in heaven and in earth, chiefly ending with the former, as
on Sunday nights, with stars over our head, was natural and fit we
should do.

"Phineas," said John, sitting on the grass with his hands upon his
knees, and the one star, I think it was Jupiter, shining down into
his eyes, deepening them into that peculiar look, worth any so-called
"handsome eyes;"--"Phineas, I wonder how soon we shall have to rise
up from this quiet, easy life, and fight our battles in the world?
Also, I wonder if we are ready for it?"

"I think you are."

"I don't know. I'm not clear how far I could resist doing anything
wrong, if it were pleasant. So many wrong things are pleasant--just
now, instead of rising to-morrow, and going into the little dark
counting-house, and scratching paper from eight till six, shouldn't I
like to break away!--dash out into the world, take to all sorts of