Nellie’s greeting was very quiet. Yet I fancied my coming gave her pleasure, for her cheek flushed and the old witch-smile played about her lips. Still, I use the word ‘woman’ advisedly. For, even in the dim light of the porch, I was conscious of a change in her—of something lost, yet something gained and added; of a greater poise, a greater dignity, for hers was—may I not say is, and that how thankfully?—one of those natures which experience and trial serve to mature and enrich rather than to break.—Would there were more of such; for are they not the salt of the earth, the divinely given leaven which, unto strength, courage, righteousness, leavens the whole lump? Ah! what a wife for my dear, weak, wayward, noble boy, Hartover!—Or, he being free no longer, what a wife for⸺ Sternly I put that thought from me. To indulge it would be to sink myself in intoxicating dreams and visions, drench my senses with sweet poison, emasculate my reason and my will—in a word, unman myself. Since her presence affected me even more profoundly than I anticipated, I must, in honour, arm myself against the delight of it with all the fortitude and prudence I possessed. We had passed straight from the porch into the main living-room of the house, a large hall with a heavily timbered ceiling and a big open fireplace at the further end. Some logs burned cheerfully upon the hearth—a not unwelcome sight after my long drive in the drizzling mist. Here sweet-faced Miss Ann Braithwaite, in quakerish grey gown and close net cap, received me with kindly speech. Everything spoke of the same easy circumstances and solid comfort, along with an exquisite cleanliness very pleasant to the eye and touch. At supper Nellie performed her duties as hostess with a pretty solicitude and dignity; and the evening passed in talk, Braithwaite glad enough, I think, to hold forth once more on social reform, national and political subjects. He certainly talked well and to the point—his views humorously and, I must add, enlighteningly different to those I was accustomed to hear set forth in College Common-rooms or at the High Table in Hall. But I fancied his radicalism sounded a less temperate and genial note, and that he looked anxiously at Nellie from time to time. His manner to her was peculiarly gentle, and he referred to her opinion with an almost wistful desire to interest her in our conversation. I had no opportunity of speaking with her alone that night, for which I was not altogether sorry. Better to wait until the first sweet torment of her nearness had worn off, and I had schooled myself to accept it without nervousness. I rose to a day as brilliantly fair as yesterday had been wet. Sunshine and fresh air pervaded the house. A side door, in the hall—where breakfast awaited me—stood open on to the garden, the moat, and avenue of oaks climbing the gentle grass slope beyond to the sky-line.