In the small oblong of looking-glass hung against the wall, Philip caught the reflection of his own face, and laughed scornfully at the sight.  The thin hair lay upon his temples in the flakes that betoken long ill-health; his eyes were the same as ever, and they had always been considered the best feature in his face; but they were sunk in their orbits, and looked hollow and gloomy.  As for the lower part of his face, blackened, contracted, drawn away from his teeth, the outline entirely changed by the breakage of his jaw-bone, he was indeed a fool if he thought himself fit to go forth to win back that love which Sylvia had forsworn.  As a hermit and a beggar, he must return to Monkshaven, and fall perforce into the same position which Guy of Warwick had only assumed.  But still he should see his Phillis, and might feast his sad hopeless eyes from time to time with the sight of his child.  His small pension of sixpence a day would keep him from absolute want of necessaries.

So that very day he went to the warden and told him he thought of giving up his share in the bequest of Sir Simon Bray.  Such a relinquishment had never occurred before in all the warden’s experience; and he was very much inclined to be offended.

’I must say that for a man not to be satisfied as a bedesman of St Sepulchre’s argues a very wrong state of mind, and a very ungrateful heart.’

’I’m sure, sir, it’s not from any ingratitude, for I can hardly feel thankful to you and to Sir Simon, and to madam, and the young ladies, and all my comrades in the hospital, and I niver expect to be either so comfortable or so peaceful again, but——­’

’But?  What can you have to say against the place, then?  Not but what there are always plenty of applicants for every vacancy; only I thought I was doing a kindness to a man out of Harry’s company.  And you’ll not see Harry either; he’s got his leave in March!’

’I’m very sorry.  I should like to have seen the lieutenant again.  But I cannot rest any longer so far away from—­people I once knew.’

’Ten to one they’re dead, or removed, or something or other by this time; and it’ll serve you right if they are.  Mind! no one can be chosen twice to be a bedesman of St Sepulchre’s.’

The warden turned away; and Philip, uneasy at staying, disheartened at leaving, went to make his few preparations for setting out once more on his journey northwards.  He had to give notice of his change of residence to the local distributor of pensions; and one or two farewells had to be taken, with more than usual sadness at the necessity; for Philip, under his name of Stephen Freeman, had attached some of the older bedesmen a good deal to him, from his unselfishness, his willingness to read to them, and to render them many little services, and, perhaps, as much as anything, by his habitual silence, which made him a convenient recipient of all their garrulousness.  So before the time for his departure came, he had the opportunity of one more interview with the warden, of a more friendly character than that in which he gave up his bedesmanship.  And so far it was well; and Philip turned his back upon St Sepulchre’s with his sore heart partly healed by his four months’ residence there.