CHAPTER XXXI 454
and fatal fury-- consequences of my departure-- which might now, perhaps, be dragging him from the path of right, too far to leave hope of ultimate restoration thither. At this thought, I turned my face aside from the lovely sky of eve and lonely vale of Morton-- I say LONELY, for in that bend of it visible to me there was no building apparent save the church and the parsonage, half-hid in trees, and, quite at the extremity, the roof of Vale Hall, where the rich Mr. Oliver and his daughter lived. I hid my eyes, and leant my head against the stone frame of my door; but soon a slight noise near the wicket which shut in my tiny garden from the meadow beyond it made me look up. A dog-- old Carlo, Mr. Rivers ' pointer, as I saw in a moment-- was pushing the gate with his nose, and St. John himself leant upon it with folded arms; his brow knit, his gaze, grave almost to displeasure, fixed on me. I asked him to come in.
" No, I cannot stay; I have only brought you a little parcel my sisters left for you. I think it contains a colour-box, pencils, and paper."
I approached to take it: a welcome gift it was. He examined my face, I thought, with austerity, as I came near: the traces of tears were doubtless very visible upon it.
" Have you found your first day ' s work harder than you expected?" he asked.
" Oh, no! On the contrary, I think in time I shall get on with my scholars very well."
" But perhaps your accommodations-- your cottage-- your furniture-- have disappointed your expectations? They are, in truth, scanty enough; but-- " I interrupted-
" My cottage is clean and weather-proof; my furniture sufficient and commodious. All I see has made me thankful, not despondent. I am not absolutely such a fool and sensualist as to regret the absence of a carpet, a sofa, and silver plate; besides, five weeks ago I had nothing-- I was an outcast, a beggar, a vagrant; now I have acquaintance, a home, a business. I