way home.  As soon as he saw Morton he made up his mind to speak to him.  He was quite sure from what had passed between him and the girls, on the road home, that he had done something wrong.  He was convinced that he had interfered in some ill-bred way, though he did not at all know how.  Of Reginald Morton he was not in the least jealous.  He, too, was of a jealous temperament, but it had never occurred to him to join Reginald Morton and Mary Masters together.  He was very much in love with Mary, but had no idea that she was in any way above the position which she might naturally hold as daughter of the Dillsborough attorney.  But of Reginald Morton’s attributes and scholarship and general standing he had a mystified appreciation which saved him from the pain of thinking that such a man could be in love with his sweetheart.  As he certainly did not wish to quarrel with Morton, having always taken Reginald’s side in the family disputes, he thought that he would say a civil word in passing, and, if possible, apologise.  When Morton came up he raised his hand to his head and did open his mouth, though not pronouncing any word very clearly.  Morton looked at him as grim as death, just raised his hand, and then passed on with a quick step.  Larry was displeased; but the other was so thoroughly a gentleman,—­one of the Mortons, and a man of property in the county,—­that he didn’t even yet wish to quarrel with him.  “What the deuce have I done?” said he to himself as he walked on—­“I didn’t tell her not to go up to the house.  If I offered to walk with her what was that to him?” It must be remembered that Lawrence Twentyman was twelve years younger than Reginald Morton, and that a man of twenty-eight is apt to regard a man of forty as very much too old for falling in love.  It is a mistake which it will take him fully ten years to rectify, and then he will make a similar mistake as to men of fifty.  With his awe for Morton’s combined learning and age, it never occurred to him to be jealous.

Morton passed on rapidly, almost feeling that he had been a brute.  But what business had the objectionable man to address him?  He tried to excuse himself, but yet he felt that he had been a brute, and had so demeaned himself in reference to the daughter of the Dillsborough attorney!  He would teach himself to do all he could to promote the marriage.  He would give sage advice to Mary Masters as to the wisdom of establishing herself,—­having not an hour since made up his mind that he would never see her again!  He would congratulate the attorney and Mrs. Masters.  He would conquer the absurd feeling which at present was making him wretched.  He would cultivate some sort of acquaintance with the man, and make the happy pair a wedding present.  But, yet, what “a beast” the man was, with that billicock hat on one side of his head, and those tight leather gaiters.

As he passed through the town towards his own house, he saw Mr. Runciman standing in front of the hotel.  His road took him up Hobbs gate, by the corner of the Bush; but Runciman came a little out of the way to meet him.  “You have heard the news?” said the innkeeper.