reverse; probably, as you say, it arises from temper was hasty, swallowed the bait. He inadvertence, as he is still a very young man ; entered into his grievances more fully than but " his wife thought consistent with his dignity. "What has he done?" said Miss Leonora, She sat with her eyes fixed upon the floor, pricking up her ears.

Once more Mr. Morgan cleared his throat, but this time it was to keep down the rising anger of which he was unpleasantly sensible. "I don't generally enter into such matters with people whom they don't concern," he said, with a touch of his natural asperity; "but as you are Mr. Wentworth's relation- He has taken a step perfectly unjustifiable in every respect; he has at the present moment a mission going on in my parish, in entire independence, I will not say defiance, of me. My dear, it is unnecessary to look at me so deprecatingly: I am indignant at having such a liberty taken with me. I don't pretend not to be indignant. Mr. Wentworth is a very young man, and may not know any better; but it is the most unwarrantable intrusion upon a clergyman's rights. I beg your pardon, Miss Wentworth you have nothing to do with my grievances; but the fact is, my wife and I were discussing this very unpleasant matter when you came in."

tracing the objectionable pattern of the carpet with her foot, but too much vexed for the moment to think of those bouquets which were so severe a cross to her on ordinary occasions. Perhaps she was thinking secretly to herself how much better one knows a man after being married to him three months than after being engaged to him ten years; bat the discovery that he was merely a man after all, with very ordinary defects in his cliaracter, did not lessen her loyalty. She sat with her eyes bent upon the carpet, feeling a little hot and uncomfortable as her husband disclosed his weakness, and watching her opportunities to rush in and say a softening word now and then. The chances were, perhaps, on the whole, that the wife grew more loyal, if that were possible, as she perceived the necessity of standing by him, and backing him out. The rector went very fully into the subject, being drawn out by Miss Leonora's questions, and betrayed an extent of information strangely opposed to the utter ignorance which he had displayed at Mr. Wodehouse's party. He knew the hours of Mr. Wentworth's services, and the number of people who attended, and even about Tom Burrows's six children who had been baptized the day before. Somehow Mr. Morgan took this last particular as a special offence; it was this which roused him beyond his usual self-control. Six little heathens brought into the Christian fold in his own parish without permission of the rector! It was indeed enough to try any clergyman's temper. "Mr. Morgan would not have mentioned Through the entire narrative Miss Dora it if we had not just been talking as you came broke in now and then with a little wail exin," said the rector's wife, by way of smooth-pressive of her general dismay and grief, and ing down his ruffled temper, and giving him certainty that her dear Frank did not mean time to recover. "I feel sure it is a mis-it. Mrs. Morgan repeated apart to Miss take, and that everything will come right as Wentworth with a troubled brow the fact soon as they can talk it over by themselves. that all they had seen of Mr. Wentworth in The last rector was not at all a working cler-private they had liked very much; to which gyman-and perhaps Mr. Wentworth felt it Aunt Cecilia answered, "Quite so," with was his duty—and now I dare say he forgets that it is not his own parish. It will all come right after a time.”

"A mission in your parish?" said Miss Leonora, her iron-gray eyes lighting up with a sparkle which did not look like indignation; at this point it was necessary that Miss Dora should throw herself into the breach.

"O Mr. Morgan, I am sure my dear Frank does not mean it!" cried the unlucky peacemaker; "he would not for the world do anything to wound anybody's feelings-it must be a mistake."

"But the mission is effective, I suppose, or you would not object to it?" said Miss Leonora, who, though a very religious woman, was not a peacemaker; and the rector, whose

her beautiful smile; while Miss Leonora sat and listened, putting artful questions, and fixing the heated rector with that iron-gray eye, out of which the sparkle of incipient light had not faded. Mr. Morgan naturally said a great deal more than he meant to say, and after it was said he was sorry; but he

did not show the latter sentiment except by dener about the best means of clothing that silence and an uneasy rustling about the room bit of wall, over which every railway train just before the Miss Wentworths rose to go was visible which left or entered Carlingford. —a sign apparent to his wife, though to no- That functionary was of opinion that when body else. He gave Miss Wentworth his arm the lime-trees "growed a bit" all would be to the door with an embarrassed courtesy. right; but Mrs. Morgan was reluctant to "If you are going to stay any time at Car-await the slow processes of nature. She forlingford, I trust we shall see more of you," got her vexations about Mr. Wentworth in said Mr. Morgan: "I ought to beg your par- consideration of the still more palpable indon for taking up so much time with my af- convenience of the passing train. fairs ;" and the rector was much taken aback when Miss Wentworth answered, "Thank you, that is just what I was thinking."

He

CHAPTER VI.

MISS DORA WENTWORTH relapsed into sup

went back to his troubled wife in great per-pressed sobbing when the three ladies were plexity. What was it that was just what once more on their way. Between each little she was thinking? — that he would see more access a few broken words fell from the poor of them, or that he had spoken too much of lady's lips. "I am sure dear Frank did not his own affairs? mean it," she said; it was all the plea his champion could find for him.

"You think I have been angry and made an idiot of myself," said Mr. Morgan to his wife, who was standing looking from a safe distance through the curtains at the three ladies, who were holding a consultation with their servant out of the window of the solemn chariot provided by the Blue Boar, as to where they were to go next.

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"He did not mean what? to do his duty and save souls?" said Miss Leonora—“ is that what he didn't mean? It looks very much as if he did, though-as well as he knew how."

"Quite so, Leonora," said Miss Wentworth.

"But he could not mean to vex the rector," said Miss Dora-" my poor dear Frank : of course he meant it for the very best. I wonder you don't think so, Leonora—you who are so fond of missions. I told you what I heard him saying to the young lady-all about the sick people he was going to visit, and the children. He is a faithful shepherd, though you wont think so; and I am sure he means nothing but

"Nonsense, dear; but I wish you had not said quite so much about Mr. Wentworth," said the rector's wife, seizing, with female art, on a cause for her annoyance which would not wound her Welshman's amour propre, "for I rather think he is dependent on his aunts. They have the living of Skelmersdale, I know; and I remember now that their nephew was to have had it. I hope this wont turn them against him, dear," said Mrs. Morgan, who did not care the least in "His duty, I think," said the iron-gray the world about Skelmersdale, looking anx-sister, resolutely indifferent to Miss Dora's iously in her husband's face.

This was the climax of the rector's trouble. "Why did not you tell me that before?" he said, with conjugal injustice, and went off to his study with a disturbed mind, thinking that perhaps he had injured his own chances of getting rid of the Perpetual Curate. If Mrs. Morgan had permitted herself to soliloquize after he was gone, the matter of her thoughts might have been interesting; but as neither ladies nor gentlemen in the nineteenth century are given to that useful medium of disclosing their sentiments, the veil of privacy must remain over the mind of the rector's wife. She got her gardening gloves and scissors, and went out immediately after, and had an animated discussion with the gar

little sniffs, and turning her gaze out of the window, unluckily just at the moment when the carriage was passing Masters's shop, where some engravings were hanging of a suspiciously devotional character. The name over the door, and the aspect of the shopwindow, were terribly suggestive, and the fine profile of the Perpetual Curate was just visible within to the keen eyes of his aunt. Miss Dora, for her part, dried hers, and, beginning to see some daylight, addressed her-, self anxiously to the task of obscuring it, and damaging once more her favorite's chance.

nora.

"I thought you understood that Frank would not do for the rectory," said Miss Leo"Sisterhoods!-look here, there's a young lady in a gray cloak, and I think she's going into that shop: if Frank carries on that sort of thing, I shall think him a greater fool than ever. Who is that girl?"

"My doing!" said Miss Dora, faintly; but she was too much startled by the suddenness of the attack to make any coherent remonstrance. Miss Leonora tossed back her angry head, and pursued that inspiration, finding it a relief in her perplexity.

wish any harm to poor dear old Mr. Shirley, | villanous Latin inscription, a legend which I am sure; but when Frank is in the rec- began with the terrible words Ora pro nobis, torybecame suddenly visible to her troubled eyes. She put away the book as if it had stung her, and made a precipitate retreat. She shook her head as she descended the stair-she reentered the carriage in gloomy silence. When it returned up Prickett's Lane, the three ladies again saw their nephew, this time entering at the door of No. 10. He had his "I am sure I don't know, dear," said Miss prayer-book under his arm, and Miss Leonora Dora, with unexampled wisdom. And she seized upon this professional symbol to wreak comforted her conscience that she did not her wrath upon it. "I wonder if he can't know, for she had forgotten Lucy's name. pray by a sick woman without his prayerSo there was no tangible evidence to confirm book?" she cried. "I never was so proMiss Leonora's doubts, and the carriage from voked in my life. How is it he doesn't know the Blue Boar rattled down Prickett's Lane better? His father is not pious, but he isn't to the much amusement of that locality. a Puseyite, and old uncle Wentworth was When they got to the grimy canal-banks, Miss very sound-he was brought up under the Leonora stopped the vehicle and got out. pure Gospel. How is it that the boys are so She declined the attendance of her trembling foolish, Dora?" said Miss Leonora, sharply; sister, and marched along the black pave-" it must be your doing. You have told them ment dispersing with the great waves of her tales and things, and put true piety out of drapery the wondering children about, who their head." swarmed as children will swarm in such localities. Arrived at the schoolroom, Miss Leonora found sundry written notices hung up in a little wooden frame inside the open door. All sorts of charitable businesses were carried on about the basement of the house; and a curt little notice about the Provident Society diversified the list of services which was hung up for the advantage of the ignorant. Clearly the Curate of St. Roque's meant it. “As well as he knows how," his aunt allowed to herself, with a softening sentiment: but, pushing her inquiries further, was shown up to the schoolroom, and stood "That was always my opinion," said Miss pondering by the side of the reading-desk Cecilia; and the accused, after a feeble atlooking at the table, which was contrived to tempt at speech, could find nothing better to be so like an altar. The curate, who could do than to drop her veil once more and cry not have dreamed of such a visit, and whose under it. It was very hard, but she was mind had been much occupied and indifferent not quite unaccustomed to it. However, the to externals on the day before, had left vari- discoveries of the day were important enough ous things lying about, which were carefully to prevent the immediate departure which collected for him upon a bench. Among Miss Leonora had intended. She wrote a them was a little pocket copy of Thomas à Kempis, from which, when the jealous aunt opened it, certain little German prints, such as were to be had by the score at Masters's, dropped out, some of them unobjectionable enough. But if the Good Shepherd could not be found fault with, the feelings of Miss Leonora may be imagined when the meek face of a monkish saint, inscribed with some

"It must be all your doing," she said. "How can I tell that you are not a Jesuit in disguise? one has read of such a thing. The boys were as good, nice, pious boys as one could wish to see; and there's Gerald on the point of perversion, and Frank you, Dora, it must be your fault.

I tell

note with her own hands to her nephew, asking him to dinner. "We meant to have gone away to-day, but should like to see you first," she said in her note. "Come and dine-we mayn't have anything pleasant to say, but I don't suppose you expect that. It's a pity we don't see eye to eye." Such was the intimation received by Mr. Wentworth when he got home, very tired, in the

for the clerk's wife was a highly respectable woman, and knew her own place. But Rosa, who was only a kind of kitten, and had privileges, stayed. Mr. Wentworth was by far the most magnificent figure she had ever seen in her little life. She looked at him with awe out of her bright eyes, and thought he looked like the prince in the fairy tales.

Mr.

"My aunts!" cried the curate; "how do you know anything about my aunts?" Elsworthy smiled a complacent and familiar smile.

afternoon. He had been asking himself | day to her goodman, gathered up her basket whether under the circumstances, it would of eggs and her nosegay, and made the clernot be proper for him to return some books gyman a little courtesy as she hurried away; of Mr. Wodehouse's which he had in his possession, of course by way of breaking off his too-familiar, too-frequent intercourse. He had been representing to himself that he would make this call after their dinner would be over, at the hour when Mr. Wodehouse reposed in his easy-chair, and the two sisters were generally to be found alone in the drawing-room. Perhaps he might have an oppor- "Any news, sir? There aint much to call tunity of intimating the partial farewell he news, sir-not in a place like this," said Mr. meant to take of them. When he got Miss Elsworthy. "Your respected aunts, sir, 'as Leonora's note, the curate's countenance been down at the schoolroom. I haven't clouded over. He said, "Another night heard anything else as I could suppose you lost," with indignant candor. It was hard didn't know." enough to give up his worldly prospects, but he thought he had made up his mind to that. However, refusal was impossible. It was still daylight when he went up Grange Lane to the Blue Boar. He was early, and went "There's so many a-coming and a-going languidly along the well-known road. No- here that I know most persons as comes into body was about at that hour. In those Carlingford," said he;" and them three reclosed, embowered houses, people were pre- spected ladies is as good as a pictur. I saw paring for dinner, the great event of the day, them a-driving past and down Prickett's and Mr. Wentworth was aware of that. Per- Lane. They were as anxious to know all haps he had expected to see somebody-Mr. about it as-as was to be expected in the cirWodehouse going home, most likely, in order cumstances," said Mr. Elsworthy, failing of that he might mention his own engagement, a metaphor; "and I wish you your 'ealth and account for his failure in the chance evening call which had become so much a part of his life. But no one appeared to bear" his message. He went lingering past the green door and up the silent, deserted road. At the end of Grange Lane, just in the little unsettled transition interval which interposed between its aristocratic calm and the bustle of George Street, on the side next Prickett's Lane, was a quaint little shop, into which Mr. Wentworth strayed to occupy the time. This was Elsworthy's, who, as is well known, was then clerk at St. Roque's. Elsworthy himself was in his shop that Easter Monday, and so was his wife and little Rosa who was a little beauty. Rosa and her aunt had just returned from an excursion, and a prettier little apparition could not be seen than that dimpled rosy creature, with her radiant halfchildish looks, her bright eyes, and soft curls of dark brown hair. Even Mr. Wentworth gave a second glance at her as he dropped Perhaps there's one o' the ladies, sir, as languidly into a chair, and asked Elsworthy has some friend she'd like to put up a memoif there was any news. Mrs. Elsworthy, who rial to," said Mr. Elsworthy, in insinuating had been telling the adventures of the holi- tones. "A window is a deal cheerfuller a

and 'appiness, sir, if all as I hear is true."
"It's a good wish," said the curate;
thank you, Elsworthy': but what you heard
might not be true."

"Well, sir, it looks more than likely," said the clerk; "as far as I've seen in my experience, ladies don't go inquiring into a young gentleman's ways, not without some reason. If they was young ladies, and noways related, we know what we'd think, sir; but being old ladies, and aunts, it's equally as clear. For my part, Mr. Wentworth, my worst wish is, that when you come into your fortune, it mayn't lead you away from St. Roque's-not after everything is settled so beautiful, and not a thing wanted but some stained glass, as I hear a deal of people say, to make it as perfect a little church

"Yes, it is very true; a painted window is very much wanted," said Mr. Wentworth, thoughtfully.

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memorial than a tombstone, and it couldn't but the principles of that boy is beautiful.

be described the improvement it would be to the church. I'm sorry to hear Mr. Wodehouse aint quite so well as his usual to-night; a useful man like he is, would be a terrible don't like, especially when they've got to loss to Carlingford; not as it's anything alarming, as far as I can hear, but being a stout man, it aint a safe thing his being took so sudden. I've heard the old doctor say, sir, as a man of a full 'abit, might be took off at once, when a spare man would fight through. It would be a sad thing for his family, sir," said Mr. Elsworthy, tying up a bundle of newspapers with a very serious face.