ould see her again, and thank her for her
kindness that night.'

'That will help me to think with less pain of things that are long
since over and done with,' Sidney replied, forcing himself to speak
firmly. 'We can't alter the past, Jane, but we can try to remember only
the best part of it. You, I hope, very seldom look back at all.'

'Grandfather wishes me never to forget it. He often says that.'

'Does he? I think I understand.'

Jane drew down a branch and laid the broad cool leaves against her
cheek; releasing it, she moved in the direction of the house. Her
companion followed with slow step, his head bent. Before they came to
the door Jane drew his attention to a bat that was sweeping duskily
above their heads; she began to speak with her wonted cheerfulness.

'How I should like Pennyloaf to be here! I wonder what she'd think of
it?'

At the door they bade each other good night. Sidney took yet a few
turns in the garden before entering. But that it would have seemed to
the Pammenters a crazy proceeding, he would have gladly struck away
over the fields and walked for hours.

CHAPTER XX

A VISION OF NOBLE THINGS

He slept but for an hour or two, and even then with such disturbance of
fitful dreams that he could not be said to rest. At the earliest sound
of movements in the house he rose and went out into the morning air.
There had fallen a heavy shower just after sunrise, and the glory of
the east was still partly veiled with uncertain clouds. Heedless of
weather-signs, Sidney strode away at a great pace, urged by his
ungovernable thoughts. His state was that miserable one in which a man
repeats for the thousandth time something he has said, and torments
himself with devising possible and impossible interpretations thereof.
Through the night he had done nothing but imagine what significance
Jane might have attached to his words about Clara Hewett. Why had he
spoken of Clara at all? One moment he understood his reasons, and
approved them; the next he was at a loss to account for such needless
revival of a miserable story. How had Jane interpreted him? And was it
right or wrong to have paused when on the point of confessing that he
loved her?

Rain caught him at a distance from home, and he returned to breakfast
in rather a cheerless plight. He found that Michael was not feeling
quite himself, and would not rise till midday. Jane had a look of
anxiety, and he fancied she behaved to him with a constr