come down to meet him, as he had proposed, but he had sent his outlandish American gig with his groom to fetch John.  While he was at the vicarage the latter was probably too much occupied with conversation to notice that Mr. Ambrose seemed preoccupied and changed, and the vicar was to some extent recalled to his usual manner by the presence of his pupil.  Mrs. Ambrose had taxed her husband with concealing something from her ever since the previous day, but the good man was obstinate and merely said that he felt unaccountably nervous and irritable, and begged her to excuse his mood.  Mrs. Ambrose postponed her cross-examination until a more favourable opportunity should present itself.

John got into the gig and drove away.  He was to return with the squire to dinner in the evening, and he fully expected that Mrs. Goddard and Nellie would be of the party—­it seemed hardly likely that they should be omitted.  Indeed, soon after John had left a note arrived at the vicarage explaining that Mrs. Goddard was much better and would certainly come, according to Mrs. Ambrose’s very kind invitation.

It is unnecessary to dwell upon the meeting which took place between Mr. Juxon and John Short.  The squire was hospitable in the extreme and expressed his great satisfaction at having John under his own roof at last.  He was perhaps, like the vicar, a little nervous, but the young man did not notice it, being much absorbed by the enjoyment of his good fortune and of the mental rest he so greatly needed.  Mr. Juxon congratulated him warmly and expressed a hope, amounting to certainty, that John might actually be at the head of the Tripos; to which John modestly replied that he would be quite satisfied to be in the first ten, knowing in his heart that he should be most bitterly disappointed if he were second to any one.  He sat opposite to his host in a deep chair beside the fire in the library and revelled in comfort and ease, enjoying every trifle that fell in his way, feeling only a very slight diffidence in regard to himself for the present and none at all for the future.  The squire was so cordial that he felt himself thoroughly at home.  Indeed Mr. Juxon already rejoiced at his wisdom in asking John to the Hall.  The lad was strong, hopeful, well-balanced in every respect and his presence was an admirable tonic to the almost morbid state of anxiety in which the squire had lived ever since his interview with Policeman Gall, two days before.  In the sunshine of John’s young personality, fears grew small and hope grew big.  The ideas which had passed through Mr. Juxon’s brain on the previous evening, just after Mr. Ambrose had warned him of Goddard’s intentions, seemed now like the evil shadows of a nightmare.  All apprehension lest the convict should attempt to execute his threats disappeared like darkness before daylight, and in the course of an hour or two the squire found himself laughing and chatting with his guest as though there were no such things as forgery or convicts in