They repaired to the study. A volume of Plato was open on the
reading-table.
'Do you remember Socrates' prayer in the "Phaedrus"?' said the
vicar, bending affectionately over the page. He read a few words of
the Greek, then gave a free rendering. 'Beloved Pan, and all ye
other gods who haunt this place, give me beauty in the inward soul;
and may the outward and inward be at one. May I esteem the wise
alone wealthy, and may I have such abundance of wealth as none but
the temperate can carry.'
He paused a moment.
'Ah, when I came hither I hoped to find Pan undisturbed. Well, well,
after all, Hephaestus was one of the gods.'
'How I envy you your quiet mind!' said Hubert.
'Quiet? Nay, not always so. Just now I am far from at peace. What
brings you hither to-day?'
The equivoque was obviated by Mr. Wyvern's tone.
'I have heard stories about Adela Waltham. Is there any truth in
them?'
'I fear so; I fear so.'
'That she is really going to marry Mr. Mutimer?'
He tried to speak the name without discourtesy, but his lips writhed
after it.
'I fear she is going to marry him,' said the vicar deliberately.
Hubert held his peace.
'It troubles me. It angers me,' said Mr. Wyvern. 'I am angry with
more than one.'
'Is there an engagement?'
'I am unable to say.
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