still, went to the door with him,
and lingered upon the stair, following slowly. "Oh, Mr Wentworth! be
sure you let me know," she repeated, again looking wistfully after him
as he disappeared into the dark garden, going out. The stars were still
shining, the spring dews lying sweet upon the plants and turf. It was a
lovelier night now than when Mr Wentworth had said so to little Rosa
Elsworthy an hour ago; but mists were rising from the earth, and clouds
creeping over the sky, to the startled imagination of the Perpetual
Curate. He had found out by practical experiments, almost for the first
time, that there were more things in earth and heaven than are dreamt of
in the philosophy of youth.

CHAPTER VIII.

It was the next morning after this when Mrs Hadwin's strange lodger
first appeared in the astonished house. He was the strangest lodger to
be taken into a house of such perfect respectability, a house in
Grange Lane; and it came to be currently reported in Carlingford after
a time, when people knew more about it, that even the servants could
not tell when or how he arrived, but had woke up one morning to find a
pair of boots standing outside the closed door of the green room,
which the good old lady kept for company, with sensations which it
would be impossible to describe. Such a pair of boots they were
too--muddy beyond expression, with old mud which had not been brushed
off for days--worn shapeless, and patched at the sides; the strangest
contrast to a handsome pair of Mr Wentworth's, which he, contrary to
his usual neat habits, had kicked off in his sitting-room, and which
Sarah, the housemaid, had brought and set down on the landing, close
by these mysterious and unaccountable articles. When the bell of the
green room rang an hour or two later, Sarah and the cook, who happened
to be standing together, jumped three yards apart and stared at each
other; the sound gave them both "a turn." But they soon got perfectly
well used to that bell from the green room. It rung very often in the
day, for "the gentleman" chose to sit there more than half his time;
and if other people were private about him, it was a great deal more
than he was about himself. He even sent the boots to be mended, to
Sarah's shame and confusion. For the credit of the house, the girl
invented a story about them to calm the cobbler's suspicions. "They
was the easiest boots the gentleman had, being troubled with tender
feet; and he wasn't a