to other things--the pure air--the quiet life--the absence of
excitement--the regular _work_ that _takes_ her _out_ of herself----"

Here the Vicar fell into that solemn rhythm that marked the periods of
his sermons.

He perorated. "The _simple_ following _out_ of _my_ prescription. You
will remember" (he became suddenly cheery and conversational) "that it
_was_ mine."

"It certainly wasn't mine," said Rowcliffe.

He saw it all. _That_ was why the Vicar was so affable. That was why
he was so serene.

And he wasn't lying. His state of mind was obviously much too simple.
He was serenely certain of his facts.

* * * * *

By courteous movement of his hand the Vicar condoned Rowcliffe's
rudeness, which he attributed to professional pique very natural in
the circumstances.

With admirable tact he changed the subject.

"I also wished to consult you about another matter. Nothing" (he again
reassured the doctor's nervousness) "to do with my family."

Rowcliffe was all attention.

"It's about--it's about that poor girl, Essy Gale."

"Essy," said Rowcliffe, "is very well and very happy."

The Vicar's sudden rigidity implied that Essy had no business to be
happy.

"If she is, it isn't your friend Greatorex's fault."

"I'm not so sure of that," said Rowcliffe.

"I suppose you know he has refused to marry her?"

"I understood as much. But who asked him to?"

"I did."

"My dear sir, if you don't mind my saying so, I think you made a
mistake--if you _want_ him to marry her. You know what he is."

"I do indeed. But a certain responsibility rests with the parson of
the parish."

"You can't be responsible for everything that goes on."

"Perhaps not--when the place is packed with nonconformists. Greatorex
comes of bad dissenting stock. I can't hope to have any influence with
him."

He paused.

"But I'm told that _you_ have."

"Influence? Not I. I've a sneaking regard for Greatorex. He isn't half
a bad fellow if you take him the right way."

"Well, then, can't you take him? Can't you say a judicious word?"

"If it's to ask him to marry Essy, that wouldn't be very judicious,
I'm afraid. He'll marry her if he wants to, and if he doesn't, he
won't."

"But, my dear Dr. Rowcliffe, think of the gross injustice to that poor
girl."

"It might be a worse injustice if he married her. Why _should_ he
marry her if he doesn't want to, and if she doesn't want it? There
she is, perfe