The buildings of the Chase Farm lay at one extremity of the Chase, at about ten minutes’ walking distance from the Abbey.  Adam had come thither on his pony, intending to ride to the stables and put up his nag on his way home.  At the stables he encountered Mr. Craig, who had come to look at the captain’s new horse, on which he was to ride away the day after to-morrow; and Mr. Craig detained him to tell how all the servants were to collect at the gate of the courtyard to wish the young squire luck as he rode out; so that by the time Adam had got into the Chase, and was striding along with the basket of tools over his shoulder, the sun was on the point of setting, and was sending level crimson rays among the great trunks of the old oaks, and touching every bare patch of ground with a transient glory that made it look like a jewel dropt upon the grass.  The wind had fallen now, and there was only enough breeze to stir the delicate-stemmed leaves.  Any one who had been sitting in the house all day would have been glad to walk now; but Adam had been quite enough in the open air to wish to shorten his way home, and he bethought himself that he might do so by striking across the Chase and going through the Grove, where he had never been for years.  He hurried on across the Chase, stalking along the narrow paths between the fern, with Gyp at his heels, not lingering to watch the magnificent changes of the light—­hardly once thinking of it—­yet feeling its presence in a certain calm happy awe which mingled itself with his busy working-day thoughts.  How could he help feeling it?  The very deer felt it, and were more timid.

Presently Adam’s thoughts recurred to what Mr. Craig had said about Arthur Donnithorne, and pictured his going away, and the changes that might take place before he came back; then they travelled back affectionately over the old scenes of boyish companionship, and dwelt on Arthur’s good qualities, which Adam had a pride in, as we all have in the virtues of the superior who honours us.  A nature like Adam’s, with a great need of love and reverence in it, depends for so much of its happiness on what it can believe and feel about others!  And he had no ideal world of dead heroes; he knew little of the life of men in the past; he must find the beings to whom he could cling with loving admiration among those who came within speech of him.  These pleasant thoughts about Arthur brought a milder expression than usual into his keen rough face:  perhaps they were the reason why, when he opened the old green gate leading into the Grove, he paused to pat Gyp and say a kind word to him.