But he continued to
trace in his mind how each of the actors in the little drama--Mr.
Sandys, Jack, Guthrie himself, Maud, Mrs. Graves--would each have
reason to thank him for having held himself aloof, and for
sacrificing his own desires. There was comfort in that thought; and
for the first time in these miserable weeks he felt a little glow
of self-approval at the consciousness of his own prudence and
justice. The best thing, he now reflected, would be to remove
himself from the scene altogether for a time, and to return in
radiant benevolence, when the affair had settled itself: but Maud--
and then there came over him the thought of the girl, her
sweetness, her eager delight, her adorable frankness, her
innocence, her desire to be in affectionate relations with all who
came within reach of her; and the sense of his own foresight and
benevolence was instantly and entirely overwhelmed at the thought
of what he had missed, and of what he might have aspired to, if it
had not been for just the wretched obstacle of age and
circumstance. A few years younger--if he had been that, he could
have followed the leading of his heart, and--he dared think no more
of what might have been possible.
But what brought matters to a head was a scene that he saw on the
following day. He was in the library in the morning; he tried to
work, but he could not command his attention. At last he rose and
went to the little oriel, which commanded a view of the village
green.
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