how
bitterly! did the remembrance of that visit, and of the
exultation and triumph which then filled him, and carried him
away over the heath with a shout towards his home, come back on
him. He could look out from his watchtower no longer, and lay
down with his face between his hands on the turf, and groaned as
he lay.

But his good angel seemed to haunt the place, and soon the cold
fit began to pass away, and better and more hopeful thoughts to
return. After all what had he done since his last visit to that
place to be ashamed of? Nothing. His attempts to do Harry
service, unlucky as they had proved, had been honest. Had he
become less worthy of the love which had first consciously
mastered him there some four weeks ago? No; he felt on the
contrary, that it had already raised him, and purified him, and
made a man of him. But this last discovery, how could he ever get
over that? Well, after all, the facts were just the same as
before; only now they had come out. It was right that they should
have come out; better for him and for everyone that they should
be known and faced. He was ready to face them, to abide any
consequences that they might now bring in their train. His heart
was right towards Mary, towards Patty, towards Harry--that he
felt sure of. And, if so, why should he despair of either his
love or his friendship coming to a good end?

And so he sat up again, and looked out bravely towards Barton,
and began to consider what was to be done. His eye rested on the
Rectory. That was the first place to begin with. He must set
himself right with Katie--let her know the whole story. Through
her he could reach all the rest, and do whatever must be done to
clear the ground and start fresh again.

At first he thought of returning to her at once, and rose to go
down to Englebourn. But anything like retracing his steps was
utterly distasteful to him just then. Before him he saw light,
dim enough as yet, but still a dawning; towards that he would
press, leaving everything behind him to take care of itself. So
he turned northwards, and struck across the heath at his best
pace. The violent exercise almost finished his cure, and his
thoughts became clearer and more hopeful as he neared home. He
arrived there as the household was going to bed, and found a
letter waiting for him. It was from Hardy, saying that Blake had
left him, and he was now thinking of returning to Oxford, and
would come for his long talked of visit to