Autumn found him in Oxford, miserable but acutely alive. At first his country speech and his country clothes made him painfully conspicuous to himself. He seemed to be moving in a strong light which drew unfriendly eyes, but gradually his sober, native confidence returned. There were times when he suffered; but he thought no less of himself because he wore garments which seemed designed to conceal the lithe strength of his frame, and could not speak the jargon of the men about him, for the calibre of his mind was as good as that of other folks, and he knew it. Once sure of that, he settled down to drink steadily of all life could give him of knowledge and experience: he did it with the stubborn persistence natural to him, and though he became absorbed he was never happy. Here there was too much talk, and he never ceased to be heartsick for the hills. CHAPTER XI Three years later, as Theresa was coming down the stairs one Friday evening, her father opened the front door, and at the sight of his pallid face she stood still on the bottom step. "Have you just come home?" she asked, for he had not seen her. "It's you, Theresa? I went to the office first." She put her arms round his neck and kissed him. "Are you very tired?" "No, dear, no. I must find Nancy. Where is she? Where is Mother?" "In the breakfast-room." She followed him. If there was excitement anywhere she was not going to miss it; but she was anxious, and a sharp pain was driven into her heart when she heard his first words to her mother. "It has come at last." Pictures flashed: murder, forgery, bigamy, theft, in which of these had her father been discovered? Her mother had his hand. "What did they say?" she asked, and stroked it. It could not be the police: if they had once caught him, they would never have let him go again. "Young men. Competition. They tried to be kind. Of course, I cannot blame them. And, it's terrible to confess it, Nancy, but in that first moment I was thankful. People's eyes, haunting me for all these years, seemed suddenly to have closed, and--and I could lift my head. Cowardly! I deserve dismissal. They have offered me a clerkship, as I said they would. How to live on it! Theresa! I did not know you were there." "Yes, I followed you." Her voice shook with pity for him. "Mother saw me." People's eyes! She saw them socketless, like those she had once detached from the head of Grace's favourite doll. "Is it only money? Then we'll manage. I'm not going to eat meat any more. I loathe the stuff, and lentils are cheap. I'll tell Bessie to order them." They both smiled wanly, strangely alike in that moment. "You needn't laugh. We must be practical. Grace is nearly keeping herself, and I shall be soon. I wish you wouldn't look so miserable." Mere poverty seemed nothing after her fears of crime. "We must all do what we can. I know you'll help us. Tell Bessie Father wants his supper, dear." He spoke in a still lower voice. "This means George, Nancy."