life. But I wasn't thinking of it. It came by accident,--just because I
am so troubled."

"What is it?"

"There has been a man here,--a man whom I knew in America."

"An enemy?"

"Yes,--an enemy. One who is anxious to do me all the injury he can."

"Are you in his power, Mr. Peacocke?"

"No, thank God; not that. I am in no man's power. He cannot do me any
material harm. Anything which may happen would have happened whether he
had come or not. But I am unhappy."

"I wish I knew."

"So do I,--with all my heart. I wish you knew; I wish you knew. I would
that all the world knew. But we shall live through it, no doubt. And if
we do not, what matter. 'Nil conscire sibi,--nulla pallescere culpa.'
That is all that is necessary to a man. I have done nothing of which I
repent;--nothing that I would not do again; nothing of which I am ashamed
to speak as far as the judgment of other men is concerned. Go, now. They
are making up sides for cricket. Perhaps I can tell you more before the
evening is over."

Both Mr. and Mrs. Peacocke were accustomed to dine with the boys at one,
when Carstairs, being a private pupil, only had his lunch. But on this
occasion she did not come into the dining-room. "I don't think I can
to-day," she said, when he bade her to take courage, and not be altered
more than she could help, in her outward carriage, by the misery of her
present circumstances. "I could not eat if I were there, and then they
would look at me."

"If it be so, do not attempt it. There is no necessity. What I mean is,
that the less one shrinks the less will be the suffering. It is the man
who shivers on the brink that is cold, and not he who plunges into the
water. If it were over,--if the first brunt of it were over, I could find
means to comfort you."

He went through the dinner, as he had done the Caesar, eating the roast
mutton and the baked potatoes, and the great plateful of currant-pie that
was brought to him. He was fed and nourished, no doubt, but it may be
doubtful whether he knew much of the flavour of what he ate. But before
the dinner was quite ended, before he had said the grace which it was
always his duty to pronounce, there came a message to him from the
rectory. "The Doctor would be glad to see him as soon as dinner was
done." He waited very calmly till the proper moment should come for the
grace, and then, very calmly, he took his way over to the house. He was
certain now tha