He was hastening on, walking faster than usual, as was his habit when agitated or perplexed; when, turning sharply a corner of the road, he came suddenly upon Mr. Price, sauntering along, an open book in his hand, of which he read a little from time to time. How peaceful and at rest he looked! The picture of a calm, emotionless student, undisturbed by the passions and anxieties by which ordinary mortals are tossed and torn. True, so far, for now in his autumn his life was even and colourless enough; but it had not always been so. There were furrows his brow, deep lines round the sensitive mouth, which told that he too had fought his battles, had loved and sorrowed like his fellows! “Sir Ralph!” he exclaimed, with a bright look of pleasure, “how delighted I am to have met you. Out on a solitary ramble like myself. Have you any objection to my joining you? What a lovely day, is it not? Not nearly so oppressively hot as it has been. But which way are you going?” “Any way you like,” said Ralph, “it’s quite the same to me. I am merely taking a constitutional, as you see,” with a forced laugh. “Well then,” said the tutor, on whose quick ears neither the tone nor the laugh fell disregarded, “since you have no choice, suppose we cross the road and return to Altes by that lane opposite. It’s not much of a round. Three to four miles will bring us home, and it’s pleasanter than the dusty highway.” “Thank you,” replied Ralph, “that will do very well.” And they walked on for some little time in silence. Suddenly Ralph remembered himself. “I am afraid, Mr. Price, you won’t find me very good company to-day. I am thoroughly out of sorts, mentally, that is to say. I am wretchedly unhappy because I can’t see my way before me. I want to do right, and I cannot find out which way before me it lies. I couldn’t say as much as this to anyone else, but I know of old how I can trust you. And I don’t want you to think my queer behaviour arise from any other cause.” “There is no queer behaviour in your treating me as an old friend, my dear boy,” answered Mr. Price. “Do just as you are inclined. If you don’t wish to talk, keep silence. It is a pleasure to me to have a quiet hour with you, whether you talk or not. But at the same time, my dear Sir Ralph, I am an older man by many years than you, and my life has not been all smooth sailing. It is just possible I might be able to suggest something—advise you even, being so much older,” he added apologetically, “if you should think fit to take me into your confidence as to your present perplexity.” Ralph made no answer. Mr. Price looked penitent. “I trust you don’t think me officious or presumptuous,” he began. “Believe me, Sir Ralph—” “Do one thing to please me, Mr. Price,” said his ci-devant pupil, “forget all about that ‘Sir.’ Let me be plain Ralph again for a while, to you at least. It will make it easier for me to confess all my sins to you, as if I were a lad again.” Mr. Price smiled at his fancy.