here by means of a dozen darkling walks by the side of the
majestic Curate, who never paid her any compliments. Miss Dora went away
more than ever convinced in her mind that Frank had forgotten himself
and his position, and everything that was fit and seemly. She jumped to
a hundred horrible conclusions as she went sadly across Grange Lane with
her scarlet wool in her hand. What Leonora would say to such an
irremediable folly?--and how the Squire would receive his son after such
a _mesalliance_? "He might change his views," said poor Miss Dora to
herself, "but he could not change his wife;" and it was poor comfort to
call Rosa a designing little wretch, and to reflect that Frank at first
could not have meant anything. The poor lady had a bad headache, and was
in a terribly depressed condition all day. When she saw from the window
of her summer-house the pretty figure of Lucy Wodehouse in her grey
cloak pass by, she sank into tears and melancholy reflections. But then
Lucy Wodehouse's views were highly objectionable, and she bethought
herself of Julia Trench, who had long ago been selected by the sisters
as the clergyman's wife of Skelmersdale. Miss Dora shook her head over
the blanket she was knitting for Louisa's baby, thinking of clergymen's
wives in general, and the way in which marriages came about. Who had the
ordering of these inexplicable accidents? It was surely not Providence,
but some tricky imp or other who loved confusion; and then Miss Dora
paused with compunction, and hoped she would be forgiven for
entertaining, even for one passing moment, such a wicked, wicked
thought.

CHAPTER XII.

On the afternoon of the same day Mr Morgan went home late, and
frightened his wife out of her propriety by the excitement and trouble
in his face. He could do nothing but groan as he sat down in the
drawing-room, where she had just been gathering her work together, and
putting stray matters in order, before she went up-stairs to make
herself tidy for dinner. The Rector paid no attention to the fact that
the dinner-hour was approaching, and only shook his head and repeated
his groan when she asked him anxiously what was the matter. The good
man was too much flushed and heated and put out, to be able at first
to answer her questions.

"Very bad, very bad," he said, when he had recovered sufficient
composure--"far worse than I feared. My dear, I am afraid the
beginning of my work in Carlingford will be for ever asso