thinking that any proposal ought to come from Mr. Creek, and because I dreaded taking a step that might end in my having to leave this neighbourhood; yet I fretted and reproached myself for remaining silent.
Things went on in this uncomfortable state for some time; day after day went by; chances of opening the subject were lost, the present ever seeming an inopportune moment; my period of pupilage had come to an end, and yet nothing had been decided. Of course I suffered for this shirking—one always does. Had I spoken at once, as I ought to have done, not only would I have been easier in my mind, but I should not have been placed in a position that gave others the right, as I could not but own it did, to consider I had acted unfairly towards them. Not that I had so acted, and therein lay the sting, for surely never is an unjust imputation so hard to bear as when you feel that, though guiltless, yet your conduct has seemed to give grounds for the accusation.
The whole affair was settled, as these long-pondered affairs generally are, unexpectedly, and in quite a different way to what I had supposed. I was spending, as I so frequently did, the Sunday at Quondong, when Mr. Drummond, turning to me in his abrupt way, said,—
'How much does Creek give you?'
'Nothing,' I answered.
'How's that?'
Then I told him how matters stood; and being very full of the subject, doubtless enlarged considerably on it.
