ind, there was time for no more than
a mere hand-shaking and a good-morning, and she walked into the church,
beautifully tranquil to look at, though she could hardly believe that
all the congregation could not guess with what a startled feeling her
heart had begun to beat. By and by the influences of the place and the
service began to soothe her, though she only succeeded in excluding
her lovers by a conscious process of forgetfulness which was not so far
removed from memory as it might have been.

The Thistlewood pew was a little to the front on her right, and the
Protheroe pew a little to her front on the left, but she kept her
eyes so studiously downcast that she got no glimpse of either, until a
strange and altogether remarkable feeling of something missing surprised
her into looking up. Her eyes went first to the Protheroe pew, and Lane
was not there. Then in spite of herself she listened for Thistlewood's
voice in the Responses, and not detecting it, was impelled to look
for him. He also was absent, and she began to quake a little. Was it
possible they had stayed outside to quarrel? This fear would have been
sufficiently serious at any time, but on a Sunday, during church hours,
it magnified itself, which fact is in itself enough to prove that though
the idea perturbed her she foresaw no very terrible consequences. It
would be hateful to be quarrelled over, but both the combatants--if
combatants they were to be--would respect her too much to proceed to
extremities, and thereby make the quarrel public, and her a target for
all tongues.

John and Lane had met in the churchyard pretty early, and whilst there
were friends to greet, and to pass the time of day with, things went
smoothly enough. But as the churchgoers filed by ones and twos into the
building, each began to be aware of a solitude which was peopled only
by the disagreeable presence of the other. John, ostentatiously
disregardful of his adversary, planted himself at the gate, so as to be
before him in his greeting. Lane, rather unusually erect and martial in
his walk, marched past him into the village roadway, and there loitered
for the same intent. Thistlewood, recognising the meaning of this
manouvre, strolled into the roadway, and doggedly planted himself a yard
or two beyond the spot where his rival had halted. Lane, with an air to
the full as ostentatiously and offensively dis-regardful as the other's,
marched past Thistlewood with half a dozen soldi