be in direct proportion to the activity of the brain. A question
Hubert put about the train led to a brief account of what was going on.
Mr. Wyvern spoke on the subject with a gravity which was not distinctly
ironical, but suggested criticism.

They repaired to the study. A volume of Plato was open on the
reading-table.

'Do you remember Socrates' prayer in the "Phaedrus"?' said the vicar,
bending affectionately over the page. He read a few words of the Greek,
then gave a free rendering. 'Beloved Pan, and all ye other gods who
haunt this place, give me beauty in the inward soul; and may the outward
and inward be at one. May I esteem the wise alone wealthy, and may I
have such abundance of wealth as none but the temperate can carry.'

He paused a moment.

'Ah, when I came hither I hoped to find Pan undisturbed. Well, well,
after all, Hephaestus was one of the gods.'

'How I envy you your quiet mind!' said Hubert.

'Quiet? Nay, not always so. Just now I am far from at peace. What brings
you hither to-day?'

The equivoque was obviated by Mr. Wyvern's tone.

'I have heard stories about Adela Waltham. Is there any truth in them?'

'I fear so; I fear so.'

'That she is really going to marry Mr. Mutimer?'

He tried to speak the name without discourtesy, but his lips writhed
after it.

'I fear she is going to marry him,' said the vicar deliberately.

Hubert held his peace.

'It troubles me. It angers me,' said Mr. Wyvern. 'I am angry with more
than one.'

'Is there an engagement?'

'I am unable to say. Tattle generally gets ahead of fact.'

'It is monstrous!' burst from the young man. 'They are taking advantage
of her innocence. She is a child. Why do they educate girls like that? I
should say, how can they leave them so uneducated? In an ideal world it
would be all very well, but see what comes of it here? She is walking
with her eyes open into horrors and curses, and understands as little
of what awaits her as a lamb led to butchery. Do you stand by and say
nothing?'

'It surprises me that you are so affected,' remarked the vicar quietly.

'No doubt. I can't reason about it. But I know that my life will be
hideous if this goes on to the end.'

'You are late.'

'Yes, I am late. I was in Wanley some weeks ago; I did not tell you of
it. I called at their house; they were not at home to me. Yet Adela was
sitting at the window. What did that mean? Is her mother so contemptible
that my change of fortune