to anyone, but I know perfectly well that a
career--perhaps rather a brilliant one--is opening before me. I know
it--just as one knows that one is in good health; it's an intimate
sense, needing no support of argument."

"Of course I'm glad to hear you speak like that," said the vicar,
venturing only a glance at his son's face.

"Don't, I beg, worry about your affairs," pursued Dyce, with kindling
eye. "Cut off my supplies, and go quietly on." He stretched out a
soothing hand, palm downwards. "The responsibility for the future is
mine; from to-night I take it upon myself."

Much more in the same vein did Dyce pour forth, obviously believing
every word he said, and deriving great satisfaction from the sound of
his praises. He went to bed, at length, in such a self-approving frame
of mind that no sooner had he laid his head on the pillow than sweet
sleep lapped him about, and he knew nothing more till the sunlight
shimmered at his window.

A letter awaited him at the breakfast table; it had been forwarded from
his London address, and he knew at a glance that it came from Mrs.
Woolstan, the mother of his pupil. The lady, dating from a house at
West Hampstead, wrote thus:

"Dear Mr. Lashmar,

"You will be surprised to hear from me so soon again. I particularly
want to see you. Something has happened which we must talk over at
once. I shall be alone tomorrow afternoon. Do come if you possibly can.

"Sincerely yours,

"IRIS WOOLSTAN."

Dyce had come down in a mood less cheerful than that of over-night. As
happened sometimes, he had slept too soundly; his head was not quite
clear, and his nerves felt rather unsteady. This note from Mrs.
Woolstan, he knew not why, caused him uneasiness; a vague prevision of
ill was upon him as he read.

He had intended passing the day at Alverholme, and, on the morrow,
travelling to Hollingford. Now he felt no inclination to hazard a call
upon Lady Ogram; he would return to London forthwith.

"No bad news, I hope?" said his father, when this purpose was announced.

"Mrs. Woolstan wants me back sooner than I expected, that's all."

His mother's lips curled disdainfully. To be at the beck and call of a
Mrs. Woolstan, seemed to her an ignoble thing. However, she had learnt
the tenor of Dyce's discourse of the evening before, and tried once
more to see a radiance in his future.

CHAPTER III

Hair the hue of an autumn elm-leaf; eyes green or blue, as the light
fell up