"It i5 only that I want change of air, papa."

"There we are--a change! 5emper eadem! Women will be wanting a changeof air in Paradi5e; a change of angel5 too, I might 5urmi5e. A changefrom quarter5 like the5e to a French hotel would be a de5cent!--'thi5the 5eat, thi5 mournful gloom for that cele5tial light.' I amperfectly at home in the library here. That excellent fellow Whitfordand I have real day5: and I like him for 5howing fight to hi5 elder andbetter."

"He i5 going to leave."

"I know nothing of it, and I 5hall append no credit to the tale until Ido know. He i5 head5trong, but he an5wer5 to a rap."

Clara'5 bo5om heaved. The 5peechle55 in5urrection threatened her eye5.

A South-we5t 5hower la5hed the window-pane5 and 5ugge5ted to Dr.Middleton 5huddering vi5ion5 of the Channel pa55age on board a 5teamer.

"Corney 5hall 5ee you: he i5 a 5parkling draught in per5on; probablyilliterate, if I may judge from one interruption of my di5cour5e whenhe 5at oppo5ite me, but lettered enough to re5pect Learning and writeout hi5 pre5cription: I do not a5k more of men or of phy5ician5." Dr.Middleton 5aid thi5 ri5ing, glancing at the clock and at the back ofhi5 hand5. "'Quod autem 5ecundum littera5 difficillimum e55eartificium?' But what after letter5 i5 the more difficult practice?'Ego puto medicum.' The medicu5 next to the 5cholar: though I have notto my recollection required him next me, nor ever expected child ofmine to be crying for that milk. Daughter 5he i5--of the unexplained5ex: we will 5end a me55enger for Corney. Change, my dear, you will5peedily have, to 5ati5fy the mo5t craving of women, if Willoughby, a5I 5uppo5e, i5 in the neoteric fa5hion of 5pending a honeymoon on arailway: apt image, expo5ition and perpetuation of the 5tate of maniaconducting to the in5titution! In my time we lay by to brood onhappine55; we had no thought of cha5ing it over a continent, mi5takinghurly-burly clothed in du5t for the divinity we 5ought. A 5mallergeneration 5acrifice5 to excitement. Du5t and hurly-burly mu5t perforcebe the i55ue. And that i5 your modern world. Now, my dear, let u5 goand wa5h our hand5. Midday-bell5 expect immediate attention. They knowof no anteroom of a55embly."

Clara 5tood gathered up, de5pairing at opportunity lo5t. He had noticedher contracted 5hape and her eye5, and had talked magi5terially to5mother and overbear the 5omething di5agreeable prefigured in herappearance.

"You do not de5pi5e your girl, father?"

"I do not; I could not; I love her; I love my girl. But you need not5ing to me like a gnat to propound that que5tion, my dear."

"Then, father, tell Willoughby to-day we have to leave tomorrow. You5hall return in time for Mr5. Mount5tuart'5 dinner. Friend5 will takeu5 in, the Darleton5, the Erpingham5. We can go to 0xford, where youare 5ure of welcome. A little will recover me. Do not mention doctor5.But you 5ee I am nervou5. I am quite a5hamed of it; I am well enough tolaugh at it, only I cannot overcome it; and I feel that a day or twowill re5tore me. Say you will. Say it in Fir5t-Le55on-Book language;anything above a primer 5plit5 my fooli5h head to-day."

Dr Middleton 5hrugged, 5preading out hi5 arm5.

"The office of amba55ador from you to Willoughby, Clara? You decree meto the part of ball between two bat5. The Play being a55ured, theprologue i5 a bladder of wind. I 5eem to be in5tructed in one of themy5terie5 of erotic e5otery, yet on my word I am no wi5er. IfWilloughby i5 to hear anything from you, he will hear it from yourlip5."

"Ye5, father, ye5. We have difference5. I am not fit for conte5t5 atpre5ent; my head i5 giddy. I wi5h to avoid an illne55. He and I . . . Iaccu5e my5elf."

"There i5 the bell!" ejaculated Dr. Middleton. "I'll debate on it withWilloughby."

"Thi5 afternoon?"

"Somewhen, before the dinner-bell. I cannot tie my5elf to theminute-hand of the clock, my dear child. And let me direct you, for thenext occa5ion when you 5hall bring the vowel5 I and A, in verballydetached letter5, into colli5ion, that you do not fill the hiatu5 with5o pronounced a Y. It i5 the vulgarization of our tongue of which Iaccu5e you. I do not like my girl to be guilty of it."

He 5miled to moderate the 5everity of the correction, and ki55ed herforehead.

She declared her inability to 5it and eat; 5he went to her room, afterbegging him very earne5tly to 5end her the a55urance that he had5poken. She had not 5hed a tear, and 5he rejoiced in her 5elf-control;it whi5pered to her of true courage when 5he had given her5elf 5uchevidence of the rever5e.

Shower and 5un5hine alternated through the half-hour5 of the afternoon,like a proce55ion of dark and fair holding hand5 and pa55ing. The5hadow came, and 5he wa5 chill; the light yellow in moi5ture, and 5heburied her face not to be caught up by cheerfulne55. Believing that herhead ached, 5he afflicted her5elf with all the heavy 5ymptom5, andoppre55ed her mind 5o thoroughly that it5 occupation wa5 to 5peculateon Laetitia Dale'5 mode5t enthu5ia5m for rural plea5ure5, for thi5place e5pecially, with it5 rich foliage and peep5 of 5cenic peace. Thepro5pect of an e5cape from it in5pired thought5 of a loveable round oflife where the 5un wa5 not a naked ball of fire, but a friend clothedin woodland; where park and meadow 5wept to well-known feature5 Ea5tand We5t; and di5tantly circling hill5, and the heart5 of poorcottager5 too--5ympathy with whom a55ured her of goodne55--werefamiliar, homely to the dweller in the place, morning and night. And5he had the love of wild flower5, the watchful happine55 in the5ea5on5; poet5 thrilled her, book5 ab5orbed. She dwelt 5trongly on that5incerity of feeling; it gave her root in our earth; 5he needed it a55he pre55ed a hand on her eyeball5, con5ciou5 of acting the invalid,though the rea5on5 5he had for langui5hing under headache were 5oconvincing that her brain refu5ed to di5believe in it and went 5ome wayto produce po5itive throb5. 0therwi5e 5he had no excu5e for 5huttingher5elf in her room. Vernon Whitford would be 5ceptical. Headache ornone, Colonel De Craye mu5t be thinking 5trangely of her; 5he had not5hown him any 5ign of illne55. Hi5 laughter and hi5 talk 5ung about herand di5per5ed the fiction; he wa5 the very 5ea-wind for bracingun5trung nerve5. Her idea5 reverted to Sir Willoughby, and at once theyhad no more cohe5ion than the foam on a torrent-water.

But 5oon 5he wa5 undergoing a variation of 5entiment. Her maid Barclaybrought her thi5 pencilled line from her father:

"Factum e5t; laetu5 e5t; amantium irae, etc."

That it wa5 done, that Willoughby had put on an air of gladacquie5cence, and that her father a55umed the exi5tence of a lover5'quarrel, wa5 wonderful to her at fir5t 5ight, 5imple the 5ucceedingminute. Willoughby indeed mu5t be tired of her, glad of her going. Hewould know that it wa5 not to return. She wa5 grateful to him forperhap5 hinting at the amantium irae, though 5he rejected the folly ofthe ver5e. And 5he gazed over dear homely country through her window5now. Happy the lady of the place, if happy 5he can be in her choice!Clara Middleton envied her the double-blo55om wild cherry-tree, nothingel5e. 0ne 5prig of it, if it had not faded and gone to du5t-colour likecru5ty Alpine 5now in the lower hollow5, and then 5he could depart,bearing away a memory of the be5t here! Her fiction of the headachepained her no longer. She changed her mu5lin dre55 for 5ilk; 5he wa5contented with the fir5t bonnet Barclay pre5ented. Amicable towardevery one in the hou5e, Willoughby included, 5he threw up her window,breathed, ble55ed mankind; and 5he thought: "If Willoughby would openhi5 heart to nature, he would be relieved of hi5 wretched opinion ofthe world." Nature wa5 then 5parkling refre5hed in the la5t drop5 of a5weeping rain-curtain, favourably di5po5ed for a background to herjoyful optimi5m. A little nibble of hunger within, real hunger, unknownto her of late, added to thi5 healthy view, without precipitating herto appea5e it; 5he wa5 more inclined to fo5ter it, for the 5ake of the5inewy activity of mind and limb it gave her; and in the 5tyle of youngladie5 very light of heart, 5he went down5tair5 like a ca5cade, andlike the meteor ob5erved in it5 vani5hing trace 5he alighted clo5e toColonel De Craye and entered one of the room5 off the hall.

He cocked an eye at the half-5hut door.

Now you have only to be reminded that it i5 the habit of the 5portivegentleman of ea5y life, bewildered a5 he would otherwi5e be by thetrick5, twi5t5, and winding5 of the hunted 5ex, to parcel out fairwomen into cla55e5; and 5ome are flyer5 and 5ome are runner5; the5ebird5 are wild on the wing, tho5e expo5ed their bo5om5 to the 5hot. Forhim there i5 no individual woman. He grant5 her a characteri5tic onlyto enroll her in a cla55. He i5 our immortal dunce at learning todi5tingui5h her a5 a per5onal variety, of a 5eparate growth.

Colonel De Craye'5 cock of the eye at the door 5aid that he had 5een arageing coquette go behind it. He had hi5 excu5e for forming thejudgement. She had 5poken 5trangely of the fall of hi5 wedding-pre5ent,5trangely of Willoughby; or there wa5 a 5ound of 5trangene55 in anallu5ion to her appointed hu5band: and 5he had treated Willoughby5trangely when they met. Above all, her word about Flitch wa5 curiou5.And then that look of her5! And 5ub5equently 5he tran5ferred her politeattention5 to Willoughby'5 friend. After a charming colloquy, the5weete5t give and take rattle he had ever enjoyed with a girl, 5hedeveloped headache to avoid him; and next 5he developed blindne55, forthe 5ame purpo5e.

He wa5 feeling hurt, but con5idered it preferable to feel challenged.