‘Ah! Say nothing then. But—his engagement with Miss Wynter. Surely he cannot regret now that it was broken off?’ ‘I don’t suppose he does. That did not make the blow at the time less hard.’ ‘No, no! I should have fancied somehow that he would have married some one else. But he has not.’ ‘No, he has not.’ ‘Do you think he has ever cared to?’ ‘He never had, up to a little while ago.’ ‘And now you think he does?’ ‘No, I don’t. I think he has been so well disciplined by what he has gone through that it would take a great deal to make him really want to marry any one. He can’t help admiring beautiful things, but he won’t do anything so disastrous as to fall in love with the lady I am thinking of. And besides, I know nothing about his feelings, really. He does not wear his heart upon his sleeve—now.’ ‘No. Of course I look upon all this as said in confidence; and I think that for the present we have settled all we had to do.’ ‘Yes, quite, I think. And I assure you I am much obliged to you.’ ‘Not at all. I am glad to have had the talk. You have my London address, I think.’ ‘Yes. How long do you remain here?’ ‘Only a few days more.’ They exchanged good mornings, and separated. Roger, going home, was very thoughtful. He knew he had taken a momentous step in refusing to remain in Bradstane. He believed it was the best step that was open to him, and he took it. It is what men have to do on their way through life. Steps of some kind we have to take, though each one may be fraught with consequences which we cannot foresee, and which we can only appreciate after we have lost all power in the matter. We can look on, in these after days, at the results of our actions; it is permitted to us to rejoice in the fruits of our conduct, or, as often as not, to repine over the same, or to beat our breasts and wish we had never been born,—but not to alter by so much as a hair’s-breadth, the direction of the road opened out long ago by our own deed. CHAPTER XXX SERMON, BY A SINNER