ciated with
pain to us both. I am discouraged and distressed beyond measure by
what I have heard to-day."

"Dear William, tell me what it is," said the Rector's wife.

"I feared it was a bad business from the first," said the disturbed
Rector. "I confess I feared, when I saw a young man so regardless of
lawful authority, that his moral principles must be defective, but I
was not prepared for what I have heard to-day. My dear, I am sorry to
grieve you with such a story; but as you are sure to hear it, perhaps
it is better that you should have the facts from me."

"It must be about Mr Wentworth," said Mrs Morgan. She was sorry; for
though she had given in to her husband's vehemence, she herself in her
own person had always been prepossessed in favour of the Perpetual
Curate; but she was also sensible of a feeling of relief to know that
the misfortune concerned Mr Wentworth, and was not specially connected
with themselves.

"Yes, it's about Mr Wentworth," said the Rector. He wiped his face,
which was red with haste and exhaustion, and shook his head. He was
sincerely shocked and grieved, to do him justice; but underneath there
was also a certain satisfaction in the thought that he had foreseen
it, and that his suspicions were verified. "My dear, I am very glad he
had not become intimate in our house," said Mr Morgan; "that would
have complicated matters sadly. I rejoice that your womanly instincts
prevented that inconvenience;" and as the Rector began to recover
himself, he looked more severe than ever.

"Yes," said Mrs Morgan, with hesitation; for the truth was, that her
womanly instincts had pronounced rather distinctly in favour of the
Curate of St Roque's. "I hope he has not done anything very wrong,
William. I should be very sorry; for I think he has very good
qualities," said the Rector's wife. "We must not let our personal
objections prejudice us in respect to his conduct otherwise. I am sure
you are the last to do that."

"I have never known an insubordinate man who was a perfect moral
character," said the Rector. "It is very discouraging altogether; and
you thought he was engaged to Wodehouse's pretty daughter, didn't you?
I hope not--I sincerely hope not. That would make things doubly bad;
but, to be sure, when a man is faithless to his most sacred
engagements, there is very little dependence to be placed on him in
other respects."

"But you have not told me what it is," said the Rector's wife, with
som