'No,' she said sadly, 'I do not love you enough. I never, never could love you enough to marry you for yourself. I should have married you for--for the sake of your position--it is a great thing to be mistress of a college lodge--and, and I wanted a home, and to be taken care of--and loved--and I had nothing to give in return.' It took a long time to convince the Master of St. Benedict's that Lucy hadn't accepted him for himself. He hadn't looked in the glass lately, or his eyes had grown dim--he hadn't seen that the brown locks of his youth were turning gray, and that he was getting bald, and fat, and florid. There were plenty of women in the world who would have loved him for himself still; there was a dear woman in the adjoining room who had loved him for twenty years, and who would go on loving him in spite of his baldness--who rather preferred it, indeed. The Master couldn't conceal from himself that the girl really desired to be free. Her words, her eyes, her manner, all showed him that she desired to break off her engagement. He had no alternative but to give her the release she sought. CHAPTER XXVIII. A COLLEGE 'PERPENDICULAR.' A whole year had passed. There was quite time enough in a year for things to straighten themselves--for things that had gone wrong to get right again. One thing that had once threatened to go wrong--very wrong--had righted itself. The new mistress of the lodge of St. Benedict's was in her right place. The lodge had taken months to restore and refurnish, and the work had been carried out quite regardless of expense. It only wanted one thing when it was finished--a mistress to preside over its stately hospitality. The Master had not far to go to find one. He did not go so far as Newnham College; he found what he sought at an unpretentious little house in the village, furnished with very shabby old furniture. He ought to have been ashamed of himself to have gone back to Mary. No doubt he was ashamed, dreadfully ashamed; but he went back, nevertheless. He did what is always the wisest and the noblest thing to do; he went back and confessed his folly, and asked to be forgiven. He did not ask in vain. Mary is now the most popular mistress of a college lodge in Cambridge, and the handsomest. She has grown quite young again; the ordeal she has passed through has only added a tender, pathetic nobleness to her beautiful grave face. The hope of her youth, of her mature womanhood, is fulfilled. She cannot help looking prosperous and handsome. And Lucy? Well, Lucy went back to Newnham when she was well enough--when she had quite recovered--and passed the Little-go with distinction. She worked at her Tripos all through the next year, and Pamela Gwatkin was her coach. She was about as unhappy as a girl with a 'small soul,' as she still described herself, would be, after what she had gone through; but her mathematics diverted her thoughts, and the prospect of her coming Tripos sustained her.