sweetness in the morning light--a little less mysterious, perhaps;
but there came upon Howard a strange feeling, partly of intense
admiration, partly a sort of half-jealousy that he should know so
little of the girl's past, and a half-terror of all other
influences and relations in the unknown background of her life. He
wanted to know whom and what she cared about, what her hopes were,
what her thoughts rested upon and concerned themselves with. He had
never felt any such emotion before, and it was not wholly agreeable
to him. He felt thrown off his balance, interfered with, diverted
from his normal course. He wanted to do and say something which
could claim her attention and confidence; and the frank and almost
sisterly regard she gave him was not wholly to his mind. This was
mingled, too, with a certain fear of he knew not what; he feared
her criticism, her disapproval; he felt his own dulness and
inelasticity. He seemed to himself empty, heavy, awkward,
disconcerted by her quiet and expectant gaze. This came and went
like a flash, and gave him an almost physical uneasiness.

"Well, here we are," said the Vicar. "I must say this is very
comfortable--a sort of family council, with matters of importance
to discuss." Maud led the way to the dining-room. "I said we would
have everything put on the table," said the Vicar, "and wait on
ourselves; that will leave us quite free to talk. It's not a lack
of any respect, Howard--quite the contrary; but these honest people
down here pick up all sorts of gossip--in a quiet life, you know, a
little gossip goes a long way; and even my good maids are human--I
should be so in their place! Howard, a bit of this chicken--our own
chickens, our own vegetables, our country cider--everything home-
grown; and now to business, and we will settle Master Jack in a
turn. My own belief is, in choosing a profession, to think of all