“I leave him in your hands then, and will call as I return to see what is settled, and report what his family wish.  I grieve more for them than for himself.”

Julius first encountered Jenny Bowater in the village making farewell calls.  He stopped the carriage and joined her, and not a word was needed to tell her that something was amiss.  “You have come to tell us something,” she said.  “Herbert has failed?”

“Prayers are sometimes answered as we do not expect,” said Julius.  “I believe it will be the making of him.”

“Oh, but how will mamma ever bear it!” cried Jenny.

“We must remind her that it is only a matter of delay, not rejection,” said Julius.

“Have you seen him?”

“Yes, the Bishop sent for me, and asked me to see your father.  It was partly from slips in critical knowledge, which betrayed the want of study, and the general want of thought and progress, and all the rest of it, in his papers—­”

“Just the fact—­”

“Yes, which a man of less reality and more superficial quickness might have concealed by mere intellectual answers, though it might have been much worse for him in the end.”

“Where is he?”

“At Rood House.  Unless your mother wishes for him here, he had better stay there till he can bear to come among us again.”

“Much better, indeed,” said Jenny.  “I only hope papa and mamma will see how good it is for him to be there.  O, Julius, if he is taking it in such a spirit, I can think it all right for him; but for them—­ for them, it is very hard to bear.  Nothing ever went wrong with the boys before, and Herbert—­mamma’s darling!” Her eyes were full of tears.

“I wish he had had a better Rector,” said Julius.

“No, don’t say that.  It was not your fault.”

“I cannot tell.  An older man, or more truly a holier man, might have had more influence.  We were all in a sort of laissez-aller state this autumn, and now comes the reckoning.”

“There’s papa,” said Jenny.  “Had you rather go to him alone, or can I do any good?”

“I think I will go alone,” said Julius.

Mr. Bowater, who had grown up in a day when examinations were much less earnest matters, never guessed what brought Julius over, but simply thought he had come to wish them good-bye; then believed in any accident rather than in failure, and finally was exceedingly angry, and stormed hotly, first at examinations and modern Bishops, then at cricket and fine ladies, then at Julius, for not having looked after the lad better, and when this was meekly accepted, indignation took a juster direction, and Herbert’s folly and idleness were severely lashed more severely than Julius thought they quite deserved, but a word of pleading only made it worse.  Have him home to take leave?  No, indeed, Mr. Bowater hoped he knew his duty better as father of a family, when a young man had publicly