"
They talked of other matters after this as they walked along the
crest of the downs; and where the white road began to descend into
the valley, with the roofs of Windlow glimmering in the trees a
little to the north, Howard left the Vicar and retraced his steps.
He was acutely miserable; the thing had come upon him with a shock,
and brought the truth home to him in a desperate way. But he
experienced at the same time a certain sensation, for a moment, of
grim relief. His fancy, his hope--how absurd and idiotic they had
been!--were shattered. How could he ever have dreamed that the girl
should come to care for him in that way--an elderly Don of settled
habits, who had even mistaken a pompous condescension to the young
men of his College for a natural and sympathetic relation--that was
what he was. The melancholy truth stared him in the face. He was
sharply disillusioned. He had lingered on, clinging pathetically to
youth, and with a serene complacency he had overlooked the flight
of time. He was a dull, middle-aged man, fond of sentimental
relations and trivial confidences, who had done nothing, effected
nothing; had even egregiously failed in the one thing he had set
himself to do, the retaining his hold on youth. Well, he must face
it! He must be content to settle down as a small squire; he must
disentangle himself from his Cambridge work gradually--it sickened
him to think of it--and he must try to lead a quiet life, and
perhaps put together a stupid book or two.
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