He sat down on the grassy bank, a mass of reeds at his feet, the shadows of the poplars behind him lying across the still river; and opposite, the wide green expanse of the great town-meadow, dotted with white patches of geese and herds of grazing horses.

There, with a sense of something solemn and critical passing over him, he began to dream out his future life.
And when he rose half an hour afterward, and turned his steps homeward, he knew with an inward tremor of heart that the next great step of the way was practically taken.

For there by the gliding river, and in view of the distant Oxford spires, which his fancy took to witness the act, he had vowed himself in prayer and self-abasement to the ministry of the Church.
During the three weeks that followed he made some frantic efforts to make up lost ground.

He had not been idle for a single day, but he had been unwise, an intellectual spendthrift, living in a continuous succession of enthusiasms and now at the critical moment his stock of nerve and energy was at a low ebb.

He went in depressed and tired, his friends watching anxiously for the result.