. She looked a very competent governess. Philip was
silent too, for he did not quite know what to say that would fit the
circumstance; and he was terribly afraid that, if he said something
flippant, Miss Wilkinson would break down before his uncle and make a
scene. They had said their last good-bye to one another in the garden the
night before, and Philip was relieved that there was now no opportunity
for them to be alone. He remained in the dining-room after breakfast in
case Miss Wilkinson should insist on kissing him on the stairs. He did not
want Mary Ann, now a woman hard upon middle age with a sharp tongue, to
catch them in a compromising position. Mary Ann did not like Miss
Wilkinson and called her an old cat. Aunt Louisa was not very well and
could not come to the station, but the Vicar and Philip saw her off. Just
as the train was leaving she leaned out and kissed Mr. Carey.

"I must kiss you too, Philip," she said.

"All right," he said, blushing.

He stood up on the step and she kissed him quickly. The train started, and
Miss Wilkinson sank into the corner of her carriage and wept
disconsolately. Philip, as he walked back to the vicarage, felt a distinct
sensation of relief.

"Well, did you see her safely off?" asked Aunt Louisa, when they got in.

"Yes, she seemed rather weepy. She insisted on kissing me and Philip."

"Oh, well, at her age it's not dangerous." Mrs. Carey pointed to the
sideboard. "There's a letter for you, Philip. It came by the second post."

It was from Hayward and ran as follows:

My dear boy,

I answer your letter at once. I ventured to read it to a great friend of
mine, a charming woman whose help and sympathy have been very precious to
me, a woman withal with a real feeling for art and literature; and we
agreed that it was charming. You wrote from your heart and you do not know
the delightful naivete which is in every line. And because you love you
write like a poet. Ah, dear boy, that is the real thing: I felt the glow
of your young passion, and your prose was musical from the sincerity of
your emotion. You must be happy! I wish I could have been present unseen
in that enchanted garden while you wandered hand in hand, like Daphnis and
Chloe, amid the flowers. I can see you, my Daphnis, with the light of
young love in your eyes, tender, enraptured, and ardent; while Chloe in
your arms, so young and soft and fresh, vowing she would ne'er
consent--consented. Roses and violets