The young rector’s directness of character set him on the right path.  “I don’t know just what to say to you, Jack.  You see, you have been taught to be afraid of horses and dogs, of exposure to rain, and generally of being hurt, until—­Well, Jack, if your mother had not been an invalid, she would not have educated you to fear, to have no joy in risks.  Now you are in more wholesome surroundings—­and—­in a little while you will forget this small trouble.”

The young clergyman felt that in his puzzle he had been rather vague, and added pleasantly, “You have the courage of truth.  That’s moral courage.  Tom would have explained or denied, or done anything to get out of the scrape, if the Squire had come down on him.  You would not.”

“Oh! thank you,” said John.  “I’m sorry I troubled you.”

“You did in a way; but you did not when you trusted a man who is your friend.  Let us drop it.  Where are those Indian graves?”

They went out and wandered in the woods, until John said, “Oh! this must be that arbutus Leila talks about, just peeping out from under the snow.”  They gathered a large bunch.

“It is the first breath of the fragrance of spring,” said Rivers.

“Oh! yes, sir.  How sweet it is!  It does not grow in Europe.”

“No, we own it with many other good and pleasant things.”

When they came to the house, Leila was dismounting after her ride.  John said, “Here Leila, I gathered these for you.”

When she said, “Thank you, John,” he knew by her smiling face that he was forgiven, and without a word followed her into the hall, still pursued by the thought; but I was afraid.  He put aside this trouble for a time, and the wood sports with Leila were once more resumed.  What thought of his failure the girl still kept in mind, if she thought of it at all, he never knew, or not for many days.  He had no wish to talk of it, but fearfully desired to set himself right with her and with John Penhallow.

One day in early April she asked him to go to the stable and order her horse.  He did so, and alone with an unpleasant memory, in the stable-yard he stood still a moment, and then with a sudden impulse threw his cap up on to the roof.  He took a moment to regret it, and then saying, “I’ve got to do it!” he went into the stable and out of the hay-loft on to the sloping roof.  He did not dare to wait, but let himself slide down the frozen snow, seized his cap, and knew of a sudden that the smooth ice-coating was an unsuspected peril.  He rolled over on his face, straightened himself, and slid to the edge.  He clutched the gutter, hung a moment, and dropped some fifteen feet upon the hard pavement.  For a moment the shock stunned him.  Then, as he lay, he was aware of Billy, who cried, “He’s dead! he’s dead!” and ran to the house, where he met Mrs. Ann and Leila on the porch.  “He’s killed—­he’s dead!”

“Who?  Who?” they cried.

“Mr. John, he’s dead!”