prevented him.  With a sense of irritation he took a few steps along the road; then the thought of the cool field reasserted itself, and with a determined effort he retraced his steps and threw one leg over the top bar of the stile.  It was no use.  Gently, but unmistakably, something pushed him back.  He could not cross.  He wanted to, and he was in full possession of both his physical and mental faculties, but he simply could not do it.

In great perplexity, not unmixed with some natural sense of umbrage, Austin set off again along the ugly road.  The sun had come out once more, and it was very hot.  What could be the matter with him?  Why had he been so silly as to take the highway, with its horrid dust and glare, when the field and the lane would have been so much more pleasant?  He felt puzzled and annoyed.  How Mr St Aubyn would have laughed at him could he but have known.  This long tramp along the disagreeable road was the only jarring incident that had befallen him that day.  Well, it would soon be over.  And what a day it had been, after all.  How marvellous the pictures were, and the gardens; what an acquisition to his life was the friendship—­not only the acquaintanceship—­of St Aubyn; and then the tapestries, the great mysterious hall, and the strange revelations that had come upon him in the hall itself!  At last his thoughts reverted, half in self-reproach, to Aunt Charlotte.  How had she fared, meanwhile?  Had she enjoyed her Cobbledicks and her MacTavishes as much as he had enjoyed his experiences at the Court?

For all his theories about living his own life and developing his own individuality, Austin was not a selfish boy.  Egoistic he might be, but selfish he was not.  His impulses were always generous and kindly, and he was full of thought for others.  He was for ever contriving delicate little gifts for those in want, planning pleasant little surprises for people whom he loved.  And now he hoped most ardently that dear Aunt Charlotte had not been very dull, and for the moment felt quite kindly towards the Cobbledicks and the MacTavishes as he reflected that, no doubt, they had helped to make his auntie happy on that afternoon.

At last he came to the entrance of the lane through which he had passed in the morning.  At that moment a crowd of men and boys, most of them armed with heavy sticks and all looking terribly excited, rushed past him, and precipitated themselves into the narrow opening.  He asked one of them what was the matter, but the man took no notice and ran panting after the others.  So Austin pursued his way, and in a few minutes arrived at the garden gate, where to his great surprise he found Aunt Charlotte waiting for him—­the picture of anxiety and terror.

“Well, auntie!—­why, what’s the matter?” he exclaimed, as Aunt Charlotte with a cry of relief threw herself into his arms.

“Oh, my dear boy!” she uttered in trembling agitation.  “How thankful I am to see you!  Which way did you come back?”