rests--sport and
his profession were all he cared about. Please, Lawrence, make
allowances for him--he had been looking forward so much to your
coming here! A man's society always does him good, and you know
how few men there are in this country: we have only the vicar,
and the doctor, and Jack Bendish and people who stay at the
Castle. And if you only realized how different he was with you
from what he is with most people, you would be flattered! He
won't let any one touch him as a rule, except Barry, whom he
treats like a machine. But he was quite grateful to you--he
seemed to lean on you."

"Did he?"

She had made Lawrence feel uncomfortable again in the region of
the heart, but he was deliberately stifling pity, as five years
ago, in a Peruvian fonda, he had subdued his filial tenderness
and grief. He was not callous: if he had had the earlier cable
he would have sailed for home without delay. But since Andrew
Hyde was dead and would never know whether his son wept for him
or not, Lawrence set himself to repress not only tears but the
fount of human feeling that fed them. He had dabbled enough in
psychology to know that natural emotions, if not indulged, may
only be driven down under the surface, there to work havoc among
the roots of nerve life. Lawrence however had no nerves and no
fear of Nemesis, and no inclination to sacrifice himself for
Bernard, and he determined, if Wanhope continued to inspire these
oppressive sensations to send himself a telegram calling him
away.

He changed the subject. "It's a long while since I've heard
stockdoves cooing. And, yes, that's a nightingale. Oh, you
jolly little beggar!" His face fell into boyish creases when he
smiled. "Do you remember the nightingales at Farringay? Laura--
may I say it?--while rusticating in Arden you haven't forgotten
certain talents you used to possess. The dress is delightful,
but where the masterhand appears is in the way it's worn. That
carries me back to Auteull."

"Nonsense!" said Laura, changing her attitude, but not visibly
displeased.

"Oh I shan't say don't move" Lawrence murmured. "The slippers
also. . . . Are there many trout in this river, I wonder? Hallo!
there's a big fellow rubbing along by that black stone! Must
weigh a cool pound and a half. I suppose the angling rights go
with the property?"

"You can fish all day long if you like: the water is ours, both
sides of it, as far south as the mill above Whar