ords he had uttered on this subject even in the days before he had
known the reason for his tendency to silence. At times when
Dunstanwolde had spoken with freedom and at length of circumstances
which attracted the comments of all, he himself had been more
frequently listener than talker, and had been wont to sit in attentive
silence, making his reflections later to himself when he was alone.
After the day on which he had lost himself upon Sir Christopher
Crowell's land and, lying among the bracken, had heard the talk of the
sportsmen below, he had known why he had been so reticent, and during
his last two years he had realised that this reticence had but
increased. Despite his warm love for my Lord Dunstanwolde there had
never come an hour when he felt that he could have revealed even by the
most distant allusion the tenor of his mind. In his replies to his
lordship's occasional epistles he had touched more lightly upon his
references to the household of Wildairs than upon other things of less
moment to him. Of Court stories he could speak openly, of country,
town, and letters, with easy freedom, but when he must acknowledge news
from Gloucestershire, he sate grave before his paper, his pen idle in
his hand, and found but few sentences to indite.

"But later," he would reflect, "I shall surely feel myself more
open--and his kind heart is so full of sympathy that he will understand
my silence and not feel it has been grudging or ungenerous to his noble
friendship."

And even now as he rode to the home of this gentleman whose affection
he had enjoyed with so much of appreciation and gratitude, he consoled
himself again with this thought, knowing that the time had not yet come
when he could unbosom himself, nor would it come until all the world
must be taken into his confidence, and he stand revealed an exultant
man whose joy broke all bonds for him since that he had dreamed of he
had won.

When he had made his last visit to Warwickshire he had thought my lord
looking worn and fatigued, and had fancied he saw some hint of new
trouble in his eyes. He had even spoke with him of his fancy, trusting
that he had no cause for anxiousness and was not in ill-health, and had
been answered with a kindly smile, my lord averring that he had no new
thing to weary him, but only one which was old, with which he had borne
more than sixty years, and which was somewhat the worse for wear in
these days--being himself.

He thought of th