miles off, and that he's gone to see his sister."

"Carry Brattle!--down here!"

"I don't know it, and I don't want to hear it mentioned; but I fancy
it is so. At any rate, I shall go and see."

"Poor, dear, bright little Carry! But how is she living, Frank?"

"She's not one of the army of martyrs, you may be sure. I daresay
she's no better than she should be."

"You'll tell me if you see her?"

"Oh, yes."

"Shall I send her anything?"

"The only thing to send her is money. If she is in want, I'll relieve
her,--with a very sparing hand."

"Will you bring her back,--here?"

"Ah, who can say? I should tell her mother, and I suppose we should
have to ask her father to receive her. I know what his answer will
be."

"He'll refuse to see her."

"No doubt. Then we should have to put our heads together, and the
chances are that the poor girl will be off in the meantime,--back to
London and the Devil. It is not easy to set crooked things straight."

In spite, however, of this interruption, Mary Lowther and her
engagement to Captain Marrable was the subject of greatest interest
at the Vicarage that day and through the night. Mrs. Fenwick half
expected that Gilmore would come down in the evening; but the Vicar
declared that his friend would be unwilling to show himself after the
blow which he would have received. They knew that he would know that
they had received the news, and that therefore he could not come
either to tell it, or with the intention of asking questions without
telling it. If he came at all, he must come like a beaten cur with
his tail between his legs. And then there arose the question whether
it would not be better that Mary's letter should be answered before
Mr. Gilmore was seen. Mrs. Fenwick, whose fingers were itching for
pen and paper, declared at last that she would write at once; and did
write, as follows, before she went to bed:--

The Vicarage, Friday.

DEAREST MARY,

I do not know how to answer your letter. You tell me to
write pleasantly, and to congratulate you; but how is one
to do that so utterly in opposition to one's own interests
and wishes? Oh dear, oh dear! how I do so wish you had
stayed at Bullhampton! I know you will be angry with me
for saying so, but how can I say anything else? I cannot
picture you to myself going about from town to town and
living in country-quarters. And as I never saw Captain
Marrable, to the best of my belief,