ary sudden glance at Lucy
when she had no expectation of it. That glance of disappointment--of
disgust--of love and longing, was no more intentional than their
meeting; could he help it, if it revealed that heart which was in such
a state of commotion and impatience? Anyhow, the look gave Lucy
sufficient occupation to keep her very quiet on the other side while
Miss Dora maundered on.

"I met the strangest man coming out when I was going to ring your
bell. You will think it very foolish, Frank, but he frightened me,"
she said. "A man with a terrible beard, and a--a shabby man, my dear.
Who could it be? Not a person to be seen coming out of a house where a
clergyman lives. He could not be any friend of yours?"

"The other lodger, I suppose," said the Curate, briefly. "When are you
going away?"

"Oh, my dear boy, we are not going away; I came to tell you. But,
Frank, you don't mean to say that such a man as that lodges in Mrs
Hadwin's house? I don't think it is safe for you--I don't think it is
respectable. People might think he was a friend of yours. I wonder if
Miss Wodehouse has ever seen him--a great man with a beard? To be
sure, a man might have a beard and yet be respectable; but I am sure,
if Miss Wodehouse saw him, she would agree with me in thinking--
Frank, my dear boy, what is the matter? Have I said anything wrong?"

"Nothing that I know of," said the Curate, who had given her arm a
little angry pressure to stop the stream of utterance--"only that I am
not interested in the other lodger. Tell me about your going away."

"But I must appeal to Miss Wodehouse: it is for your own sake, my dear
Frank," said aunt Dora--"a clergyman should be so careful. I don't
know what your aunt Leonora would say. Don't you think to see a man
like that coming out of Mr Wentworth's house is not as it should be? I
assure you he frightened me."

"I don't think I have seen him," said Lucy. "But shouldn't a clergyman's
house be like the church, open to good and bad?--for it is to the wicked
and the miserable you are sent," said the Sister of Mercy, lowering her
voice and glancing up at the Perpetual Curate. They could have clasped
each other's hands at that moment, almost without being aware that it
was any personal feeling which made their agreement so sweet. As for
Miss Dora, she went on leaning on her nephew's arm, totally unconscious
of the suppressed rapture and elevation in which the two were moving at
the other side.

"