carriage. Then they parted, she to
take her gift of flowers and butter to her poor relation, he to call
upon Mrs. Ramshorn.

That lady, being, as every body knew, the widow of a dean, considered
herself the chief ecclesiastical authority in Glaston. Her acknowledged
friends would, if pressed, have found themselves compelled to admit that
her theology was both scanty and confused, that her influence was not of
the most elevating nature, and that those who doubted her personal piety
might have something to say in excuse of their uncharitableness; but she
spoke in the might of the matrimonial nimbus around her head, and her
claims were undisputed in Glaston. There was a propriety, springing from
quite another source, however, in the rector's turning his footsteps
first toward the Manor House, where she resided. For his curate, whom
his business in Glaston that Saturday concerned, had, some nine or ten
months before, married Mrs. Ramshorn's niece, Helen Lingard by name, who
for many years had lived with her aunt, adding, if not to the comforts
of the housekeeping, for Mrs. Ramshorn was plentifully enough provided
for the remnant of her abode in this world, yet considerably to the
style of her menage. Therefore, when all of a sudden, as it seemed, the
girl calmly insisted on marrying the curate, a man obnoxious to every
fiber of her aunt's ecclesiastical nature, and transferring to him, with
a most unrighteous scorn of marriage-settlements, the entire property
inherited from her father and brother, the disappointment of Mrs.
Ramshorn in her niece was equaled only by her disgust at the object of
her choice.

With a firm, dignified step, as if he measured the distance, the rector
paced the pavement between the inn and the Manor House. He knew of no
cause for the veiling of an eyelash before human being. It was true he
had closed his eyes to certain faults in the man of good estate and old
name who had done him the honor of requesting the hand of his one
child, and, leaving her to judge for herself, had not given her the
knowledge which might have led her to another conclusion; it had
satisfied him that the man's wild oats were sown: after the crop he made
no inquiry. It was also true that he had not mentioned a certain vice in
the last horse he sold; but then he hoped the severe measures taken had
cured him. He was aware that at times he took a few glasses of port more
than he would have judged it proper to carry to the pulp