ion in approaching him. I could not expect a
return of that mood of weakness he had exhibited the night before; and I
had no intention of courting a direct snub from him.

There remained Banks, himself, but I could not possibly have questioned
him, even if my sympathies had still been engaged on his side.

And I must admit that as I paced the lawn in front of the house my
sympathies were very markedly with old Jervaise. It hurt me to remember
that look of apprehension he had worn at breakfast. I wanted, almost
passionately, to defend him from the possibly heart-breaking consequences
that might arise from no fault of his own.

I was still pondering these feelings of compassion for my host, when the
church-party emerged from the front door of the Hall. If my watch were
right they were very late. Mr. Sturton and his congregation would have to
wait ten minutes or so in patient expectation before they could begin
their devotions. And I would gladly have effaced myself if only to save
the Jervaises the vexation of a still further delay. But I was too near
the line of their approach. Any attempt at retreat would have been a
positive rudeness.

I was framing an apology for not accompanying them to church as they came
up--Mrs. Jervaise and her daughter leading, with their three visitors in a
bunch behind. But I was spared the necessity to offer what would certainly
have been a transparent and foolish excuse for absenting myself from their
religious observances. Mrs. Jervaise pulled herself together as the party
approached me. She had had her head down even more than usual as they came
out of the Hall, as if she were determined to butt her way through any
further obstacles that might intervene between her and her duty as a
Christian. At sight of me, however, she obviously stiffened. She almost
held herself erect as she faced me; and her hawk nose jerked up like the
head of a pick.

"So you're not coming with us, Mr. Melhuish?" she said.

"I hope you will excuse me," I replied with, I hope, a proper air of
courtesy.

"Of course," she said stiffly, her nose still balanced, as it were, in
preparation to strike. Then she lowered her head with the air of one who
carefully replaces a weapon, and mumbling something about being
"dreadfully late as it was," continued her interrupted plunging into the
resistances that separated her from her goal. The others followed, as if
they were being trailed in her wake by invisible hawsers. No