to make an end of the
Perpetual Curate. But fortunately he knew nothing about it; and while
Lucy held her head high with pain, and walked over the burning coals a
conscious martyr, and Miss Dora sobbed herself asleep in her darkened
room, all on his account, there was plenty of trouble, perplexity, and
distress in Wentworth Rectory to occupy to the full all the thoughts
and powers of the Curate of St Roque's.

CHAPTER XV.

It was mid-day, and more than twelve hours after he had left Carlingford,
before Mr Wentworth reached the Rectory. He had snatched a few hours'
sleep in London, where he was obliged to pause because of the trains,
which did not correspond; and accordingly, though he was very anxious
about Gerald, it was with a mien and gait very much like his usual
appearance that he jumped out of the railway carriage at the little
station which was on his father's property, and where everybody knew the
Squire's son. Left in entire uncertainty as he was in respect to the
trouble which had overtaken his brother, it was a little comfort to the
Curate to find that everybody looked surprised to see him, and that
nobody seemed to know of any cause demanding his presence. All was well
at the Hall, so far as the station-master knew; and as for the Rector,
he had no special place in the local report which the handiest porter
supplied "Mr Frank"--a blessed neglect, which was very consolatory to
the heart of the anxious brother, to whom it became evident that nothing
had happened, and who began to hope that Gerald's wife, who never was
very wise, had been seized with some merely fantastic terror. With this
hope he walked on briskly upon the familiar road to his brother's house,
recovering his courage, and falling back upon his own thoughts, and at
last taking pleasure in the idea of telling all his troubles to Gerald,
and getting strength and enlightenment from his advice. He had come
quite into this view of the subject when he arrived at the Rectory, and
saw the pretty old-fashioned house, with its high ivied garden-walls,
and the famous cedar on the lawn, standing all secure and sweet in the
early sunshine, like something too steadfast to be moved, as if sorrow
or conflict could never enter there. Unconsciously to himself, the
perfect tranquillity of everything altered the entire scope of Frank
Wentworth's thoughts. He was no longer in anxiety about his brother. He
was going to ask Gerald's advice upon his own troubl