as happily married, he would
perhaps be able to explain to her why he had behaved as he had done;
and she would be grateful to him then. His restless and fevered
imagination traced emotional and dramatic scenes, in which his delicacy
would at last be revealed. He felt ashamed of himself for this
abandonment to sentiment, but he seemed to have lost control over the
emotional part of his mind, which continued to luxuriate in the
consciousness of his own self-effacement. He had indeed, he felt,
fallen low. But he continued to trace in his mind how each of the
actors in the little drama--Mr. Sandys, Jack, Guthrie himself, Maud,
Mrs. Graves--would each have reason to thank him for having held
himself aloof, and for sacrificing his own desires. There was comfort
in that thought; and for the first time in these miserable weeks he
felt a little glow of self-approval at the consciousness of his own
prudence and justice. The best thing, he now reflected, would be to
remove himself from the scene altogether for a time, and to return in
radiant benevolence, when the affair had settled itself: but Maud--and
then there came over him the thought of the girl, her sweetness, her
eager delight, her adorable frankness, her innocence, her desire to be
in affectionate relations with all who came within reach of her; and
the sense of his own foresight and benevolence was instantly and
entirely overwhelmed at the thought of what he had missed, and of what
he might have aspired to, if it had not been for just the wretched
obstacle of age and circumstance. A few years younger--if he had been
that, he could have followed the leading of his heart, and--he dared
think no more of what might have been possible.

But what brought matters to a head was a scene that he saw on the
following day. He was in the library in the morning; he tried to work,
but he could not command his attention. At last he rose and went to the
little oriel, which commanded a view of the village green. Just as he
did so, he caught sight of two figures--Maud and Guthrie--walking
together on the road which led from the Vicarage. They were talking in
the plainest intimacy. Guthrie seemed to be arguing some point with
laughing insistence, and Maud to be listening in amused delight.
Presently they came to a stop, and he could see Maud hold up a finger.
Guthrie at once desisted. At this moment a kitten scampered across the
green to them sideways, its tail up. Guthrie caught it up, a