No one observing the boy, Wilbraham had thought, could say that he was molly-coddled into submission. Few boys of his age had such freedom granted to them, or carried a more gallant air before the world; and the Grants, of whom he had taken counsel, as representing the views of the world more closely than he in his retirement could do, had supported him. And yet, there had been the feeling that Harry was extraordinarily easy to manage—too amiably submissive, almost, to the guidance of his elders, and Wilbraham himself particularly. But now—! Wilbraham mentally shook himself. Was he receiving instructions from Harry—and almost inclined to accept them submissively? The little spurt to his pride took him a trifle farther than he had wished to go. "I don’t think it’s a matter for me to decide on, apart from your grandmother," he said. Harry turned a surprised face on him. "No, it’s for me to decide on," he said. "By and by I shall tell Granny—of course. But I don’t in the least know when it will be. There’s nothing to show yet." The phrase struck Wilbraham oddly. Harry had used it once or twice to him before. "One has to decide upon things with one’s brain," he said, "and out of one’s experience—important things that may affect one’s life. They can’t be left to impulse." "The two go together, I suppose," said Harry, almost with indifference. It was one of those little speeches upon which Viola would hang as containing the quintessence of wisdom. She might not have understood this speech, but Wilbraham did, and it affected him profoundly. Here was that rarest of characters—one who had never played with his impulses, to give them scope beyond the guidance of his reason. He could trust his impulses because their springs were controlled. "Shall we go on?" said Harry, rising. Wilbraham rose too, slowly, after a pause of reflection, and they walked on. Viola’s name was not mentioned again between them. *CHAPTER XVI* *DILEMMA* Wilbraham walked up and down in a retired part of the garden where no one was likely to disturb him. Sometimes, because he had walked rather farther that afternoon already than was his custom, he sat down on a garden seat at the end of the alley where he was. But only his body was at rest; his mind was eagerly searching for the right course. If only it were as straight and as easy to tread as this soft turfed walk between the uncompromising green walls, with the evening sun flooding the narrow space and warming even the sombre tones of the yew to some leniency!