"Highly respectable, and the quintessence of dulness! Well, your miseries won't last long there, which is one comfort. You will all die of ennui before six months are over." "We!" Nigel tried to laugh. "Are you to be the sole survivor? Superior to such influences, I suppose." "I shall be superior through absence. There are a whole lot of advertisements for governesses to-day. I shall answer three of them." "You will not!" "That depends—I am of age." "You do not think what it would be to us—to me—knowing what had driven you to it." Even this did not touch Fulvia. She gave a dry little laugh. "I am very much disposed to please myself in the matter—irrespective of other people. Why should I not—if I choose? Poky houses are not to my taste; and I am sick of Newton Bury." "And of everybody in Newton Bury?" "If you like—yes. Are we to start on the expedition now?" Nigel stood thinking, his brows drawn together. Fulvia studied him in a succession of slight glances. This was Saturday—the last day allowed by Mr. Carden-Cox for Nigel's decision, the third since his parting interview with Ethel. No one knew of that interview. He had said nothing about it. Why, indeed, should he? His late return at night, after prayers, had given umbrage to his home-folks; the more, since he offered no explanation, and permitted no questioning. Even his mother ventured to say little, save in manner; and an attempt on the part of Daisy was quashed at once. They knew he had not been to the Rectory, had not, in fact, dined anywhere; and that was all. It was all, at least, until this morning, when a report reached Fulvia of somebody having seen him walking with Ethel Elvey, after dusk, on the road near the river. She said not a word of the report; but it stung her sharply. None of them knew or guessed of the interview in the cemetery, the parting with Ethel, the long hours after of wrestling and bitter battling. He had walked far under a starlit sky, forgetting physical weariness, braving out his conflict with no human help. There is better than human help for such times, and Nigel knew whither to turn. He had come off conqueror. The path he had to tread was plainly marked, and he would tread it manfully. Self had to be sacrificed, and he would sacrifice it resolutely. Ethel had to be given up, and he would give her up completely. He was no longer in doubt as to his rightful course. But he could not act at once—could not turn without a break from Ethel to Fulvia. He had put off speaking until this last day allowed by Mr. Carden-Cox, being meantime very busy with money matters, lawyers, arrangements,—so busy that his home-people saw little of him. Better this, than too much leisure for thought. Occupied as he was, others noted a difference in him, a something unusual, not to be defined. Daisy questioned Fulvia, "What was the matter with Nigel?" and received a sharp reply. Yet Fulvia asked the same herself.