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XXXI

ayward, after saying for a month that he was going
HSouth next day and delaying from week to week out
of inability to make up his mind to the bother of packing
and the tedium of a journey, had at last been driven off just
before Christmas by the preparations for that festival. He
could not support the thought of a Teutonic merry-making.
It gave him goose-flesh to think of the season’s aggressive
cheerfulness, and in his desire to avoid the obvious he de-
termined to travel on Christmas Eve.
Philip was not sorry to see him off, for he was a down-
right person and it irritated him that anybody should not
know his own mind. Though much under Hayward’s in-
fluence, he would not grant that indecision pointed to a
charming sensitiveness; and he resented the shadow of a
sneer with which Hayward looked upon his straight ways.
They corresponded. Hayward was an admirable letter-writ-
er, and knowing his talent took pains with his letters. His
temperament was receptive to the beautiful influences with
which he came in contact, and he was able in his letters
from Rome to put a subtle fragrance of Italy. He thought
the city of the ancient Romans a little vulgar, finding dis-
tinction only in the decadence of the Empire; but the Rome
of the Popes appealed to his sympathy, and in his chosen
words, quite exquisitely, there appeared a rococo beauty. He

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