I know disturbs other
people so little." On the other hand, Mr. Chamberlaine did not
profess any great admiration for Mr. Fenwick, who he designated
as one of the smart "windbag tribe, clever, no doubt, and perhaps
conscientious, but shallow and perhaps a little conceited." The
Squire, who was not clever and not conceited, understood them both,
and much preferred his friend the Vicar to his uncle the prebendary.

Gilmore had once consulted his uncle,--once in an evil moment, as
he now felt,--whether it would not be well for him to marry Miss
Lowther. The uncle had expressed himself as very adverse to the
marriage, and would now, on this occasion, be sure to ask some
question about it. When the great man arrived the Squire was out,
still wandering round among the bullocks and sheep; but the evening
after dinner would be very long. On the following day Mr. and Mrs.
Fenwick, with Mr. and Mrs. Greenthorne, were to dine at the Privets.
If this first evening were only through, Gilmore thought that
he could get some comfort, even from his uncle. As he came near
the house, he went into the yard, and saw the Prebendary's grand
carriage, which was being washed. No; as far as the groom knew, Mr.
Chamberlaine had not gone out; but was in the house then. So Gilmore
entered, and found his uncle in the library.

His first questions were about the murder. "You did catch one man,
and let him go?" said the Prebendary.

"Yes; a tenant of mine; but there was no evidence against him. He was
not the man."

"I would not have let him go," said Mr. Chamberlaine.

"You would not have kept a man that was innocent?" said Gilmore.

"I would not have let the young man go."

"But the law would not support us in detaining him."

"Nevertheless, I would not have let him go," said Mr. Chamberlaine.
"I heard all about it."

"From whom did you hear?"

"From Lord Trowbridge. I certainly would not have let him go." It
appeared, however, that Lord Trowbridge's opinion had been given to
the Prebendary prior to that fatal meeting which had taken place in
the house of the murdered man.

The uncle drank his claret in silence on this evening. He said
nothing, at least, about Mary Lowther.

"I don't know where you got it, Harry, but that is not a bad glass of
wine."

"We think there's none better in the country, sir," said Harry.

"I should be very sorry to commit myself so far; but it is a good
glass of wine. By the bye, I hope your chef has le