"No," he answered, "I am not mistaken. And I’m not the only one who has noticed it. Since you’ve been here, my little Joan has gone further and further away from me." "I am sorry," said Hieronymus. He had taken his tobacco-pouch from his pocket, and was slowly filling his pipe. "I have never meant to work harm to her or you, or any one," the historian said sadly. "If I had thought I was going to bring trouble to any one here, I should not have stayed on. But I’ve been very happy among you all, and you’ve all been good to me; and as the days went on I found myself becoming attached to this little village. The life was so simple and refreshing, and I was glad to have the rest and the change. Your little Joan and I have been much together, it is true. She has written to my dictation, and I found her so apt that, long after my hand became well again, I preferred to dictate rather than to write. Then we’ve walked together, and we’ve talked seriously and merrily, and sadly too. We’ve just been comrades; nothing more. She seemed to me a little discontented, and I tried to interest her in things I happen to know, and so take her out of herself. If I had had any idea that I was doing more than that, I should have left at once. I hope you don’t doubt me." "I believe every word you say," David said warmly. "I am grateful for that," Hieronymus said, and the two men grasped hands. "If there is anything I could do to repair my thoughtlessness," he said, "I will gladly do it. But it is difficult to know what to do and what to say. For perhaps, after all, you may be mistaken." The exciseman shook his head. "No," he said, "I am not mistaken. It has been getting worse ever since you came. There is nothing to say about it; it can’t be helped. It’s just that sort of thing which sometimes happens: no one to blame, but the mischief is done all the same. I don’t know why I’ve told you about it. Perhaps I meant to, perhaps I didn’t. It seemed to come naturally enough when we were talking of the books." He was looking mournfully at the list which Hieronymus had drawn out for him. "I don’t see that it’s any use to me," he said. He was going to screw it up and throw it into the fire, but the historian prevented him.