not," said Major Waring, who took the letter in
his hand and seemed to study it. After which he transferred it to his
pocket.

"To-morrow? To-morrow's Sunday," he observed. "We will go to church
to-morrow." His eyes glittered.

"Why, I'm hardly in the mood," Robert protested. "I haven't had the
habit latterly."

"Keep up the habit," said Percy. "It's a good thing for men like you."

"But what sort of a fellow am I to be showing myself there among all
the people who've been talking about me--and the people up at Fairly!"
Robert burst out in horror of the prospect. "I shall be a sight among
the people. Percy, upon my honour, I don't think I well can. I'll read
the Bible at home if you like."

"No; you'll do penance," said Major Waring.

"Are you meaning it?"

"The penance will be ten times greater on my part, believe me."

Robert fancied him to be referring to some idea of mocking the
interposition of religion.

"Then we'll go to Upton Church," he said. "I don't mind it at Upton."

"I intend to go to the church attended by 'The Family,' as we say in our
parts; and you must come with me to Warbeach."

Clasping one hand across his forehead, Robert cried, "You couldn't ask
me to do a thing I hate so much. Go, and sit, and look sheepish, and
sing hymns with the people I've been badgering; and everybody seeing me!
How can it be anything to you like what it is to me?"

"You have only to take my word for it that it is, and far more," said
Major Waring, sinking his voice. "Come; it won't do you any harm to make
an appointment to meet your conscience now and then. You will never be
ruled by reason, and your feelings have to teach you what you learn. At
any rate, it's my request."

This terminated the colloquy upon that topic. Robert looked forward to a
penitential Sabbath-day.

"She is a widow still," thought Major Waring, as he stood alone in his
bed-room, and, drawing aside the curtains of his window, looked up at
the white moon.

CHAPTER XXIV

When the sun takes to shining in winter, and the Southwest to blowing,
the corners of the earth cannot hide from him--the mornings are like
halls full of light. Robert had spent his hopes upon a wet day that
would have kept the congregation sparse and the guests at Fairly absent
from public devotions.

He perceived at once that he was doomed to be under everybody's eyes
when he walked down the aisle, for everybody would attend the service on
such a morning as