The situation appeared to him to be so difficult that as soon as he had taken his breakfast he went out for a walk away from the town in order to avoid importunate visits, and to decide upon a course of conduct. The air and exercise invigorated him; the peace and solitude of the prairie, the beauty of earth and sky, the unconsciousness of nature consoled him, reduced his troubles to relative unimportance, and allowed him to regain his equanimity. Even his ideas in regard to Hutchings underwent a change. After all it was not his part to condemn; his indignation owed its heat to baffled egotism and paltry vanity. When the personal element was abstracted from the causes of his vexation, what remained? Were Hutchings a figure in history, would he judge him with the same intolerance? No; weakness, corruptibility even, would then excite no harsher feeling than a sort of amused contempt. The reflection mitigated his anger. He began to take an intellectual pleasure in the good-humoured acceptance of the wrong inflicted upon him. Plato was right, it was well to suffer injustice without desiring to retaliate. He had yet to learn that just as oil only smoothes the surface of waves, so reason has merely a superficial effect upon character. Early in the afternoon he made his way to May's home. According to his habit he passed by the servant-girl and entered the study--to find himself face to face with the lawyer. The shock of disappointment and a certain latent antagonism caused him to speak with a directness which was in itself discourteous. “Is Miss May in? I wished to see her.” After a momentary pause he added, with a tinge of sarcasm, “Your illness wasn't serious, I see.” Mr. Hutchings was not taken by surprise; he had prepared for this meeting, and had resolved to defend himself. The task, he believed, would be easy. He had almost persuaded himself that he had acted in the Professor's interest. Roberts was singularly unworldly; he might accept the explanation, and if he didn't--what did it matter? His own brighter prospects filled him with a sense of triumph; in the last three days his long-repressed vanity had shot up to self-satisfaction, making him callous to what Roberts or any one else might think. But the sneer in his visitor's words stung him, induced him to throw off the mask of illness which he had intended to assume. He replied with an indifference that was defiant: “No; I wasn't well yesterday, but I'm better now, though I shall keep indoors for a day or two. A chill, I suppose.” Receiving no answer, he found relief in complete boldness. “You see my prediction as to the result of the election has been justified?” “You might even say _pars magna fui_.” The retort slipped out. The impudent challenge had to be met. The Professor did not realize how contemptuously he spoke. The womanish weakness in Hutchings sprang to hurried attack.