But when he was given a favourable opportunity of speaking, he found he was unable to bring his courage to the sticking-point, and for the next day or two he called himself by a variety of names that, had they been addressed to him by any one else, he would have considered most objectionable. Regarded dispassionately, in the silent watches of the night, it seemed a small thing to do. He had only to get her alone, to take her hand, if he could manage to obtain possession of it, and then to make his passion known, and ask her to be his wife. Any one could do that, and he had the best of reasons, when he looked round the circle of his married acquaintances, for knowing that it had been carried out successfully on numerous occasions before. Yet when it became necessary to put it into practice he discovered that it demanded a heroism to which the charge of the Light Brigade and the storming of the Redan were as nothing. “I see that the hounds meet at Churley cross roads on Monday,” said his sister, one morning at breakfast. “Molly wants me to go, but I fear it will be impossible. I suppose it is not necessary to ask if you will be there?” “I suppose I shall,” Godfrey replied, as if he had not thought very much about the matter. In his heart, however, he knew that it would require an extraordinary force to keep him away. On Friday he did not go, for the reason that he had incidentally learned that a certain lady would be in town at her dressmaker’s. The same day he discovered that his old friend and schoolfellow, James Bradford, to wit, had returned from America, en route to the Continent, and the inference was that if they did not lunch together, they would be scarcely likely to meet again for some considerable time. What, therefore, was more fitting than that he should catch the 10.18 train at Detwich, and set off for the Metropolis? His mother and sister said nothing, except to wish him a pleasant journey. When they were alone together afterward, however, Mrs. Henderson turned to her daughter. “Poor boy,” she said, “I never thought he would take it as seriously as he is doing. I have never seen a harder case.” To which her daughter replied somewhat enigmatically: “I wish I knew what she intends doing.” Despite the eagerness Godfrey had shown to renew his acquaintance with his friend, Mr. James Bradford, he did not appear to derive such a vast amount of satisfaction from their meeting as the trouble he had taken to bring it about would have implied. “I never saw such a change in a man in my life,” said Mr. James Bradford afterward, when Godfrey had left the club. “He fidgeted about all the time we were at lunch, and examined his watch at least twice in every five minutes. Coming into money doesn’t appear to agree with him. It’s a pity, for he used to be such a good chap.”