to the theatre, involuntarily without any cause for it, there
had commenced to be moments in which MTutor was tedious. This sacrilege
was unconscious, and never yet had been put into words; but still the
feeling was there; and the beginning of any such revolution in the soul
must be accompanied with many uneasinesses. Jock was on the stroke, so
to speak, of seventeen. He was old for his age, yet he had been almost
childish too in his devotion to his books, and the subjects of his
school life. The last year had introduced many new thoughts to his mind
by restoring him to the partial society of his sister and her house; but
into these new subjects he had carried the devotion of his studious
habits and the enthusiasm of his discipleship, transferring himself
bodily with all his traditions into the new atmosphere. But a change
somehow had begun in him, he could not tell how. He was stirred beyond
the lines of his former being--sentiments, confusions of spirit quite
new to him, were vaguely fermenting, he could not tell how; and school
work, and prizes, and all the emulations of sixth form had somehow tamed
and paled. The colour seemed to have gone out of them. And the library
of MTutor, that paradise of thought, that home of conversation, where so
many fine things used to be said--that too had palled upon the boy's
uneasy soul. He felt as if he should prefer to leave everything behind
him,--books and compositions and talk, and even MTutor himself. Such a
state of mind is sure to occur some time or other in a boy's
experiences; but in this case it was too early, and Mr. Derwentwater,
who was very deeply devoted to his pupils, was much exercised on the
subject. He had lost Jock's confidence, he thought. How had he lost his
confidence? was it that some other less wholesome influence was coming
in? Thus there were feelings of discomfort between them, hesitations as
to what to say, instinctive avoidance of some subjects, concealed
allusions to others. It might even be said that in a very refined and
superior way, such as was alone possible to such a man, Mr. Derwentwater
occasionally talked at Jock. He talked of the pain and grief of seeing a
young heart closed to you which once had been open, and of the poignant
disappointment which arises in an elder spirit when its spiritual
child--its disciple--gets beyond its leading. Jock, occupied with his
own thoughts, only partially understood.

It was in this state of mind that they se