But his far worst sorrow was leaving Miss Wylder. That was a pain, a keen pain in his heart. For, that a woman is miles above him, as a star is above a marsh-light, is no reason why a man should not love her. Nay, is it not the best of reasons for loving her? The higher in soul, and the lowlier in position he is, the more imperative and unavoidable is it that he should love her; and the absence of any thought in the direction of marriage leaves but the wider room for the love infinite. In a man capable of loving in such fashion, there are no bounds to the possibilities, no limit to the growth of love. Richard thought his soul was full, but a live soul can never be full; it is always growing larger, and is always being filled. “Like one that hath been stunned,” he went about his preparations for departure. “You will go by the first train in the morning,” said Arthur, happening to meet him in the stable-yard, whither Richard had gone to look if Miss Brown was in her usual stall. “I have told Robert to take you and your tools to the station in the spring-cart.” “Thank you, sir,” returned Richard; “I shall not require the cart. I leave the house to-night, and shall send for my things to-morrow morning. I have them almost ready now.” “You cannot go to London to-night!” “I am aware of that, sir.” “Then where are you going? I wish to know.” “That is my business, sir.” “You have no cause to show temper,” said Arthur coldly. “I should not have shown it, sir, had you not presumed to give me orders after dismissing me,” answered Richard. “I have not dismissed you; I mean to employ you still, only in London instead of here,” said Arthur. “That is a matter for fresh arrangement with my father,” rejoined Richard, and left him. Arthur felt a shadow cross him--almost like fear: he had but driven Richard to his grandfather's, and had made an enemy of him! Nor could he feel satisfied with himself; he could not get rid of the thought that what he had done was not quite the thing for a gentleman to do. His trouble was not that he had wronged Richard, but that he had wronged himself, had not acted like his ideal of himself. He did not think of what was right, but of what befitted a gentleman. Such a man is in danger of doing many things unbefitting a gentleman. For the measure of a gentleman is not a man's ideal of himself. His uneasiness grew as day after day went by, and Barbara did not appear at Mortgrange. He was not aware that Richard saw no more of her than himself. He knew that he was at his grandfather's; he had himself seen him at work at the anvil; but he did not know that the hope in which he lingered there was vain. Richard waited a week, but no Barbara came to the smithy. He could not endure the thought of going away without seeing her once more. He must once thank her for what she had done for him! He must let her know why he had left Mortgrange. He would go and say good-bye to the clergyman: from him he might hear something of her!