Rowland coloured at the allusion to Freda, but did not even glance at her.

'Thank you, Lady Mary; thank you, Mr Gwynne, very much indeed, but I intend being in London on Tuesday. I have already outstayed my prescribed fortnight.'

'My dear Rowland!' exclaimed his aunt, 'you do not mean this?'

'Yes, aunt; my fellow curate has been fortunate enough to get a living given to him, and is to read himself in next Sunday, and I have promised to take double duty.'

'But one day more or less,' suggested Lady Nugent, who did not imagine it possible that Rowland Prothero _could_ refuse an invitation from her, which was, in her opinion, quite a royal command. She, so exclusive!

'I am very much obliged to your ladyship, but I have promised to be in London on Tuesday; and as my mother is really better, there is no longer any necessity for my staying in the country.'

'Your uncleth foot?' suggested Miss Nugent.

'Two good dinners, and more agreeable company than you will meet with in your East End parish!' said Colonel Vaughan.

'My uncle will easily find help,' said Rowland, turning to Miss Nugent, 'although I am sorry not to be able to give him more; and,' to Colonel Vaughan, with a smile, 'had you ever tried the far East, you would know that there is very good company there, as well as in the West. I should be very glad to introduce you to some, if you would come and see me in town.'

'That I certainly will,' said the colonel, heartily; 'and I shall be able to tell you all about your sister, as I heard yesterday that her husband has finally taken my place, and will be down here as soon as it is put in first-rate order, furnished, etc.'

'You are not likely to leave us yet I hope, Colonel Vaughan?' said Lady Mary Nugent.

'For a time, I must; but having found how pleasant you all are down here, I shall hope to come again frequently, if Miss Gwynne will second her papa's invitation.'

Freda just turned round, bowed, and smiled, and then resolutely resumed her conversation with, or rather act of listening to, the vicar.

'How interested you appear to be,' whispered the colonel, sitting down behind her.

Rowland saw this little bit of by-play, and wished himself in London; whilst Colonel Vaughan joined in the vicar's archaeological description of the quarry in which he had met with his accident. Freda heard all that Rowland said more distinctly than what pa.s.sed close at her side.

She heard her father and Lady Mary's repeated entreaties that he would remain until the end of the week, and the decided, but polite refusal of Rowland. She heard her father prophecy that he would soon have a good living, and Rowland's reply, 'that without interest or any particular talent for what is called "popular preaching," there was little chance of church preferment. 'But,' he added, 'I am well content to be only a curate. There is enough to do in my parish to keep one from morning to night employed, and that in real, active, heart-stirring work, that will not let one flag if one would wish it.'

'I thould like to thee the Eatht End, mamma,' said Miss Nugent. 'People in the Wetht theem to think all the inhabitanths barbarians.'

'It is a pity they don't come and try to civilise us, then,' said Rowland. 'We should be very glad of their help.'

'I will go if mamma will let me,' said Miss Nugent.

Lady Mary smiled somewhat superciliously, and observed that she did not think she would be of much use.

'All who have a desire to do good will make a path of usefulness, Lady Mary, I think,' said Rowland. 'In these days the enlightened must not hide their light under a bushel. We live in stirring, striving times, when good and evil seem at terrible issue.'

'And which will conquer?' broke in Colonel Vaughan suddenly. 'I don't see that all the meetings and tracts have done much, as yet, towards their part in the fight.'

'Good must conquer eventually,' said Rowland, 'and is conquering daily and hourly.'

'In your East End parish?'

'We hope so. If our progress is slow we are not without encouragement even there, in the very thick of the battle, and where the armies of evil are ten to one against good.'

'I know something of fighting, Mr Rowland, and I fear the odds are too great. You may as well give up the conflict.'

'Remember, Colonel Vaughan, that in all the great battles of antiquity, and not a few of modern times--the Swiss for example--those who fought for freedom and right have always found their arms nerved to resist mult.i.tudes--hundreds have conquered tens of thousands. So is it with our warfare. We have strength given us that makes the single champion of the cross, powerful against the legion of his adversaries.'

'Very well said, nephew,' broke in the vicar, 'Marathon, Thermopylae, Platea--'

'I am afraid we are keeping you from your dinner, Mrs Prothero,'

interrupted Mr Gwynne, who had a nervous dread of the vicar's antiquities, whether in war or peace. 'Freda, I think we must go.'

Freda rose from her seat, and shook hands very warmly with Mr and Mrs Prothero. She had made up her mind to do the same with Rowland; but just as she approached the door near which he had been standing, he said he would go out and see whether the carriages were ready, and did so accordingly. They followed him as soon as the leave-takings were over, and found him waiting at the gate. He immediately a.s.sisted Lady Mary and Miss Nugent into their carriage, leaving Colonel Vaughan to perform the same office for Miss Gwynne and Miss Hall. Mr Gwynne stayed to shake hands with him, and tell him that he should always be glad to see him; and Colonel Vaughan promised to pay him a visit as soon as he went to town. The former got into the carriage, the latter upon the box to drive. Rowland stood by the door a moment irresolute.

'Good-bye, Mr Rowland,' said Miss Hall, 'I shall hope often to see your mother.'

'Thank you, Miss Hall,' said Rowland, pressing the hand she held out to him with an iron pressure.

Freda was just going to put out her hand across Miss Hall, when Colonel Vaughan touched the horses, and the carriage drove off. Rowland raised his hat, and as he glanced at Freda saw that she was looking at him not altogether unkindly. After those words of hers, he never could have shaken hands with her, unless she made the advance; and so they parted, he believing her too proud to acknowledge him after what he had said to her; she admiring what she considered his pride and resentment a great deal more than she had ever done his humility.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE LOVER.

Spring came round again, and Owen and Gladys were still at the farm. The following conversation will show how they went on together.

'Let me carry that bucket for you, Gladys,' said Owen, one evening when she was proceeding across the farm-yard, to carry a warm mesh to a sick cow.

'It is not heavy, sir,' said Gladys, gently.

'It is too heavy for you, _ma'am_, said Owen, emphasising the 'ma'am.'

He took the bucket from her, and carried it to the shed, where Gladys dosed and fed her sick cow so very tenderly, that Owen was impelled to say,--

'I wish I were that cow.'

'Oh, sir! she is but a poor, sick, witless animal.'

'But she has you to nurse and be kind to her; so I wish I were that cow.'

'Sure, sir, I would be glad to nurse you if you were sick,'

'Would you, Gladys? Then I will be sick to-morrow.'

'I hope not, Mr Owen. Come, poor Mally. Drink it up.'