That John, in the soreness of his heart, exaggerated the case as against himself, there can be little doubt. It was a part of his nature, perhaps a weakness of it, to be morbidly sensitive to the opinion of others. It seemed essential to the simple content which had hitherto been his portion through life, that he should stand well in the eyes of his fellows. He had been buoyed up during his imprisonment by the consciousness of his innocence, and by the certainty, which rarely deserted him, that the trial would result in his acquittal. It had so resulted, yet now that he was a free man again, a sheaf of poisoned arrows were being aimed at him in the dark from which he was powerless to protect himself. He put forth his hands to grasp his enemy, and encountered empty space. After that first day he took nearly all his walks among the fields and country lanes, and rarely went into the town till after dusk. His sister was not long in perceiving that something was the matter, and had little difficulty in worming out of him the cause of his unwonted depression of spirits; for John was one of those men to whom it is a relief to unburthen themselves to someone, and who find it next to impossible to live without the sympathy of those with whom their affections are bound up. What had affected him with a sort of bitter sadness filled Miss Brancker with a fine flame of indignation, which aroused whatever combative instinct there was within her--but to no purpose, for of all futile occupations, that of fighting against shadows is perhaps the most unsatisfactory. "We must just try and live it down," said John, with a patient sigh. "Yes, and you eating your heart out meanwhile!" answered Miss Brancker, with an indignant flutter of her cap-strings. "I really think that Hermia ought to be told," said John to his sister a few days later. "My intention all along has been not to tell her till her twenty-first birthday, but that will not be here for several months, and in view of all that has happened of late, and, more especially, of the dark cloud which during the past few days has settled on my life----" "Of which I am quite sure Hermy knows nothing," interposed Miss Brancker. "But of which she is sure to hear sooner or later--in consideration of all these things, I have decided that I should not be justified in keeping the secret from her any longer." "She will be greatly shocked." "At first, I do not doubt; but at her age she will soon recover. After all, the story I have to tell is like a tale in two volumes, of which one volume is all I can offer her. Where the other is, and whether she will ever find it, is more than either you or I can say."