turn to his work with some
sense of security in the future. Otherwise he saw only the desperate
alternative of throwing himself at her feet and declaring that he loved
her, or of going back to Cambridge with the dreadful anticipation of
hearing any day that she had married the squire. To be laughed at would
be bad, but to feel that he had lost her irrevocably, without a struggle,
would be awful. No one but the vicar could and would tell him the truth;
it would be bitter to ask such a question, but it must be done. Having at
last come to this formidable resolution, towards the conclusion of
dinner, his spirits rose a little. He took another glass of the vicar's
mild ale and felt that he could face his fate.

"May I speak to you a moment in the study, Mr. Ambrose?" he said as they
rose from table.

"Certainly," replied the vicar; and having conducted his wife to the
drawing-room, he returned to find John. There was a low, smouldering fire
in the study grate, and John had lit a solitary candle. The room looked
very dark and dismal and John was seated in one of the black leather
chairs, waiting.

"Anything about those verses you were speaking of to-day?" asked the
vicar cheerfully, in anticipation of a pleasant classical chat.

"No," said John, gloomily. "The fact is--" he cleared his throat, "the
fact is, I want to ask you rather a delicate question, sir."

The vicar's heavy eyebrows contracted; the lines of his face all turned
downwards, and his long, clean-shaved upper lip closed sharply upon its
fellow, like a steel trap. He turned his grey eyes upon John's averted
face with a searching look.

"Have you got into any trouble at Trinity, John?" he asked severely.

"Oh no--no indeed," said John. Nothing was further from his thoughts than
his college at that moment. "I want to ask you a question, which no one
else can answer. Is--do you think that--that Mr. Juxon has any idea of
marrying Mrs. Goddard?"

The vicar started in astonishment and laid both hands upon the arms of
his chair.

"What--in the world--put that--into your head?" he asked very slowly,
emphasising every word of his question. John was prepared to see his old
tutor astonished but was rather taken aback at the vicar's tone.

"Do you think it is likely, sir?" he insisted.

"Certainly not," answered the vicar, still eyeing him suspiciously.
"Certainly not. I have positive reasons to prove the contrary. But, my
dear John, why, in the name of all tha