-a-tete_
with Owen over his father's memory was lost by the unwelcome addition of
Captain Charteris. The loss signified the less as Owen's reminiscences
were never allowed to languish for want of being dug up and revived, but
she could not quite pardon the sailor for the commonplace air his
presence cast over the walk.

The days were gone by when Mr. Sandbrook's pulpit eloquence had rendered
Wrapworth Church a Sunday show to Castle Blanch. His successor was a
cathedral dignitary, so constantly absent that the former curate, who had
been continued on at Wrapworth, was, in the eyes of every one, the
veritable master. Poor Mr. Prendergast--whatever were his qualifications
as a preacher--had always been regarded as a disappointment; people had
felt themselves defrauded when the sermon fell to his share instead of
that of Mr. Sandbrook, and odious comparison had so much established the
opinion of his deficiencies, that Honora was not surprised to see a
large-limbed and rather quaint-looking man appear in the desk, but the
service was gone through with striking reverence, and the sermon was
excellent, though homely and very plain-spoken. The church had been
cruelly mauled by churchwardens of the last century, and a few Gothic
decorations, intended for the beginning of restoration, only made it the
more incongruous. The east window, of stained glass, of a quality left
far behind by the advances of the last twenty years, bore an inscription
showing that it was a memorial, and there was a really handsome font.
Honor could trace the late rector's predilections in a manner that
carried her back twenty years, and showed her, almost to her amusement,
how her own notions and sympathies had been carried onwards with the
current of the world around her.

On coming out, she found that there might have been more kindness in
Captain Charteris than she had suspected, for he kept Horatia near him,
and waited for the curate, so as to leave her at liberty and unobserved.
Her first object was that Owen should see his mother's grave. It was
beside the parsonage path, a flat stone, fenced by a low iron border,
enclosing likewise a small flower-bed, weedy, ruinous, and forlorn. A
floriated cross, filled up with green lichen, was engraven above the
name.

Lucilla Horatia
beloved wife of the Reverend Owen Sandbrook
Rector of this parish
and