ked me if Mr.
Cunliffe were not a little distant in his manners to me. She did not wish
to distress me, but there certainly was a change in him. No, I must not
trouble myself, but people were talking. When a vicar was young and
unmarried, and as fascinating as Mr. Cunliffe, people would talk.

'What did they say? Ah, that was no matter, surely. Well, if I would
press her, two or three busybodies had hinted that a certain young lady,
who should be nameless, was rather too eager in her pursuit of the vicar.

'"Such nonsense, Gladys, my dear," she went on, as I remained dumb and
sick at heart at such an imputation. "Of course I told them it was only
your enthusiasm for good works. 'She meets him in her district and at the
mothers' meeting; and what can be the harm of that?' I said to them. 'And
of course she cannot refuse to sing at the penny readings and people's
entertainments when she knows that she gives such pleasure to the poor
people, and it is rather hard that she should be accused of wanting to
display her fine voice.' Oh, you may be sure that I took your part. Of
course it is a pity folks should believe such things, but I hope I made
them properly ashamed of themselves."

'You may imagine how uneasy these innuendoes made me. You know my
sensitiveness, and how prone I am to exaggerate things. It seemed to
me that more lay behind the margin of her words; and I was not wrong.

'In a little while there were other things hinted to me, but very gently.
Ah, she was kind enough to me in those days. Did I not think that I was a
little too imprudent and unreserved in my manner to Mr. Cunliffe? She
hated to make me uncomfortable, and of course I was so innocent that I
meant no harm; but men were peculiar, especially a man like Mr. Cunliffe:
she was afraid he might notice my want of self-control.

'"You do not see yourself, Gladys," she said, once; "a child would find
out that you are over head and ears in love with him. Perhaps it would
not matter so much under other circumstances, but I confess I am a little
uneasy. His manner was very cold and strange last night: he seemed afraid
to trust himself alone with you. Do be careful, my dear. Suppose, after
all, his feelings are changed, and that he fears to tell you so?"

'Ursula, can you not understand the slow torture of these days and weeks,
the first insidious doubts, the increasing fears, that seemed to be
corroborated day by day? Yes, it was not my fancy; Etta was rig