e anxiety; and she spoke the more hastily as she saw the shadow of
a curate--Mr Morgan's own curate, who must inevitably be invited to
stop to dinner--crossing the lawn as she spoke. She got up and went a
little nearer the window to make sure. "There is Mr Leeson," she said,
with some vexation. "I must run up-stairs and get ready for dinner.
Tell me what it is!"

Upon which the Rector, with some circumlocution, described the
appalling occurrence of the previous night,--how Mr Wentworth had
walked home with little Rosa Elsworthy from his own house to hers, as
had, of course, been seen by various people. The tale had been told
with variations, which did credit to the ingenuity of Carlingford; and
Mr Morgan's version was that they had walked arm in arm, in the
closest conversation, and at an hour which was quite unseemly for such
a little person as Rosa to be abroad. The excellent Rector gave the
story with strong expressions of disapproval; for he was aware of
having raised his wife's expectations, and had a feeling, as he
related them, that the circumstances, after all, were scarcely
sufficiently horrifying to justify his preamble. Mrs Morgan listened
with one ear towards the door, on the watch for Mr Leeson's knock.

"Was that all?" said the sensible woman. "I think it very likely it
might be explained. I suppose Mr Leeson must have stopped to look at
my ferns; he is very tiresome with his botany. That was all! Dear, I
think it might be explained. I can't fancy Mr Wentworth is a man to
commit himself in that way--if that is all!" said Mrs Morgan; "but I
must run up-stairs to change my dress."

"That was not all," said the Rector, following her to the door. "It is
said that this sort of thing has been habitual, my dear. He takes the
'Evening Mail,' you know, all to himself, instead of having the
'Times' like other people, and she carries it down to his house, and I
hear of meetings in the garden, and a great deal that is very
objectionable," said Mr Morgan, speaking very fast in order to deliver
himself before the advent of Mr Leeson. "I'm afraid it is a very bad
business. I don't know what to do about it. I suppose I must ask
Leeson to stay to dinner? It is absurd of him to come at six o'clock."

"Meetings in the garden?" said Mrs Morgan, aghast. "I don't feel as if
I could believe it. There is that tiresome man at last. Do as you
like, dear, about asking him to stay; but I must make my escape," and
the Rector's wif