Settle down! How was he ever to settle down? He thought drearily of the new rectory in which he had already spent a dreary month or two. And now he had come back to initiate Percy into his duties, and to take leave of all he was most used to, and cared for most. John! That he should have to interfere with Jack,--to whom everything was possible,--he, in his middle-aged desolation! What should he himself do? The worst thing would be if he were ever forced by stress of circumstances to marry some innocent woman who might be put in his way, and do her grievous wrong, marrying for convenience because it would not be possible for him to live alone. It was John who ought to interfere, who should take his old tutor by the shoulders and say to him-- What do you mean by it? What right have you to yield to external pressure in this way and tear yourself from all you care for in life? If the tables were turned on him, either by John or Elly, Mr. Cattley felt it would be only just: but nevertheless, holding to his _consigne_ to the last moment, he went on--to do her bidding dutifully, and her business, and make an end of any dream that might be stealing into John’s imagination. Poor John! Mr. Cattley walked into the parlour which he knew so well, and where he could not help feeling the old people must be sitting, waiting to upbraid him, for conspiring--he who had always professed to be so proud of the boy--against Jack’s happiness. He did not pay any attention to what the maid said in answer to his inquiry for Mr. Sandford, but went in straight, as he had been accustomed to do, without announcement or preliminary. And then there occurred to Mr. Cattley something of the same miraculous effect which on the evening before had paralysed Percy. There rose up as he entered, meeting him with the honest, modest look of a pair of eyes sincere and sweet, and that tranquil air of home-dwelling and content which makes an ordinary room into a sort of palace of the soul--Susie, not John. He looked at her in great surprise: for, though he knew that John’s sister had come, he had not realised nor thought of her, and for the first moment did not even comprehend that this was she. ‘My brother is out,’ said Susie. ‘If you will sit down, I am sure he will not be long. He has gone up to the rectory, I think, with some books.’ ‘To the rectory?’ said Mr. Cattley, with a prevision, which--for the reason that it agreed with all his wishes, yet went against all his instructions--made his heart beat--‘I must have met him on the way had he gone there.’ ‘I am sure he has gone there,’ said Susie, ‘for he took some books Miss Spencer had asked for. He may have gone round some other way.’