his
father. But he was not in a talking humour, and they were soon
walking along together in silence.

This was the first time they had been alone together since the
morning after their reconciliation; so presently Tom seized the
occasion to recur to the subject which was uppermost in his
thoughts.

"She has never answered my letter," he began abruptly.

"I am very glad of it," said Hardy.

"But why?"

"Because you know, you want it all broken off completely."

"Yes, but still she might have just acknowledged it. You don't
know how hard it is for me to keep away from the place."

"My dear fellow, I know it must be hard work, but you are doing
the right thing."

"Yes, I hope so," said Tom, with a sigh. "I haven't been within a
hundred yards of 'The Choughs' this five days. The old lady must
think it so odd."

Hardy made no reply. What could he say but that no doubt she did?

"Would you mind doing me a great favor?" said Tom, after a
minute.

"Anything I can do.--What is it?"

"Why, just to step round on our way back,--I will stay as far off
as you like,--and see how things are going on;--how she is."

"Very well. Don't you like this view of Oxford? I always think it
is the best of them all."

"No. You don't see anything of half the colleges," said Tom, who
was very loath to leave the other subject for the picturesque.

"But you get all the spires and towers so well, and the river in
the foreground. Look at that shadow of a cloud skimming over
Christchurch Meadow. It's a splendid old place after all."

"It may be from a distance, to an outsider," said Tom; "but I
don't know--it's an awfully chilly, deadening kind of place to
live in. There's something in the life of the place that sits on
me like a weight, and makes me feel dreary."

"How long have you felt that? You're coming out in a new line."

"I wish I were. I want a new line. I don't care a straw for
cricket; I hardly like pulling; and as for those wine parties day
after day, and suppers night after night, they turn me sick to
think of."

"You have the remedy in your own hands, at any rate," said Hardy,
smiling.

"How do you mean?"

"Why, you needn't go to them."

"Oh, one can't help going to them. What else is there to do!"

Tom waited for an answer, but his companion only nodded to show
that he was listening, as he strolled on down the path, looking
at the view.

"I can say what I feel to you, Hardy. I always have been able,
and