ng for the post, and ran off to Browndown.

Where do you think I found him? Locked up in his own room! His insane
shyness--it was really nothing less--made him shrink from that very
personal explanation which (with such a temperament as mine) was the only
possible explanation under the circumstances. I had to threaten him with
forcing his door, before I could get him to show himself, and take my
hand.

Once face to face with him, I soon set things right. I really believe he
had been half mad with his own self-imposed troubles, when he had
declared he would give me the lie at the door of Lucilla's room.

It is needless to dwell on what took place between us. I shall only say
here that I had serious reason, at a later time--as you will soon see--to
regret not having humoured Oscar's request that I should reconcile myself
to him by writing, instead of by word of mouth. If I had only placed on
record, in pen and ink, what I actually said in the way of making
atonement to him, I might have spared some suffering to myself and to
others. As it was, the only proof that I had absolved myself in his
estimation consisted in his cordially shaking hands with me at the door,
when I left him.

"Did you meet Nugent?" he asked, as he walked with me across the
enclosure in front of the house.

I had gone to Browndown by a short cut at the back of the garden, instead
of going through the village. Having mentioned this, I asked if Nugent
had returned to the rectory.

"He went back to see you," said Oscar.

"Why?"

"Only his usual kindness. He takes your views of things. He laughed when
he heard I had sent a letter to you, and he ran off (dear fellow!) to see
you on my behalf. You must have met him, if you had come here by the
village."

On getting back to the rectory, I questioned Zillah. Nugent, in my
absence, had run up into the sitting-room; had waited there a few minutes
alone, on the chance of my return; had got tired of waiting, and had gone
away again. I inquired about Lucilla next. A few minutes after Nugent had
gone, she had left her room, and she too had asked for me. Hearing that I
was not to be found in the house, she had given Zillah a letter to
post--and had then returned to her bed-chamber.

I happened to be standing by the hearth, looking into the dying fire,
while the nurse was speaking. Not a vestige of Oscar's letter to me (as I
now well remember) was to be seen. In my position, the plain conclusion
was that