Thus saying, he shambled out of the room through the open casement. She followed him impulsively, wonderingly; but before she reached his side he turned round, waved his hand with a gently repelling gesture, and went his way alone through dense fir-groves which had been planted in honour of Kenelm’s birth. CHAPTER II. KENELM arrived at Exmundham just in time to dress for dinner. His arrival was not unexpected, for the morning after his father had received his communication, Sir Peter had said to Lady Chillingly--“that he had heard from Kenelm to the effect that he might be down any day.” “Quite time he should come,” said Lady Chillingly. “Have you his letter about you?” “No, my dear Caroline. Of course he sends you his kindest love, poor fellow.” “Why poor fellow? Has he been ill?” “No; but there seems to be something on his mind. If so we must do what we can to relieve it. He is the best of sons, Caroline.” “I am sure I have nothing to say against him, except,” added her Ladyship, reflectively, “that I do wish he were a little more like other young men.” “Hum--like Chillingly Gordon, for instance?” “Well, yes; Mr. Gordon is a remarkably well-bred, sensible young man. How different from that disagreeable, bearish father of his, who went to law with you!” “Very different indeed, but with just as much of the Chillingly blood in him. How the Chillinglys ever gave birth to a Kenelm is a question much more puzzling.” “Oh, my dear Sir Peter, don’t be metaphysical. You know how I hate puzzles.” “And yet, Caroline, I have to thank you for a puzzle which I can never interpret by my brain. There are a great many puzzles in human nature which can only be interpreted by the heart.” “Very true,” said Lady Chillingly. “I suppose Kenelm is to have his old room, just opposite to Mr. Gordon’s.” “Ay--ay, just opposite. Opposite they will be all their lives. Only think, Caroline, I have made a discovery!” “Dear me! I hope not. Your discoveries are generally very expensive, and bring us in contact with such very odd people.” “This discovery shall not cost us a penny, and I don’t know any people so odd as not to comprehend it. Briefly it is this: To genius the first requisite is heart; it is no requisite at all to talent. My dear Caroline, Gordon has as much talent as any young man I know, but he wants the first requisite of genius. I am not by any means sure that Kenelm has genius, but there is no doubt that he has the first requisite of genius,--heart. Heart is a very perplexing, wayward, irrational thing; and that perhaps accounts for the general incapacity to comprehend genius, while any fool can comprehend talent. My dear Caroline, you know that it is very seldom, not more than once in three years, that I presume to have a will of my own against a will of yours; but should there come a question in which our son’s heart is concerned, then (speaking between ourselves) my will must govern yours.”