He walked away towards the Manor, so that he might roam about the Guestwick woods in solitude.  There was a path with a stile, leading off from the high road, about half a mile beyond the lodges through which the Dales had ridden up to the house, and by this path John Eames turned in, and went away till he had left the Manor house behind him, and was in the centre of the Guestwick woods.  He knew the whole ground well, having roamed there ever since he was first allowed to go forth upon his walks alone.  He had thought of Lily Dale by the hour together, as he had lost himself among the oak-trees; but in those former days he had thought of her with some pleasure.  Now he could only think of her as of one gone from him for ever; and then he had also to think of her whom he had taken to himself in Lily’s place.

Young men, very young men,—­men so young that it may be almost a question whether or no they have as yet reached their manhood,—­are more inclined to be earnest and thoughtful when alone than they ever are when with others, even though those others be their elders.  I fancy that, as we grow old ourselves, we are apt to forget that it was so with us; and, forgetting it, we do not believe that it is so with our children.  We constantly talk of the thoughtlessness of youth.  I do not know whether we might not more appropriately speak of its thoughtfulness.  It is, however, no doubt, true that thought will not at once produce wisdom.  It may almost be a question whether such wisdom as many of us have in our mature years has not come from the dying out of the power of temptation, rather than as the results of thought and resolution.  Men, full fledged and at their work, are, for the most part, too busy for much thought; but lads, on whom the work of the world has not yet fallen with all its pressure,—­they have time for thinking.

And thus John Eames was thoughtful.  They who knew him best accounted him to be a gay, good-hearted, somewhat reckless young man, open to temptation, but also open to good impressions; as to whom no great success could be predicated, but of whom his friends might fairly hope that he might so live as to bring upon them no disgrace and not much trouble.  But, above all things, they would have called him thoughtless.  In so calling him, they judged him wrong.  He was ever thinking,—­thinking much of the world as it appeared to him, and of himself as he appeared to the world; and thinking, also, of things beyond the world.  What was to be his fate here and hereafter?  Lily Dale was gone from him, and Amelia Roper was hanging round his neck like a mill-stone!  What, under such circumstances, was to be his fate here and hereafter?