that night. But, whether she did or not, the other Agatha came no
more, and Charlie's great resolve went unfulfilled. Yet the next
evening he went: alone to the temple, and he found, lying on the floor,
a little handkerchief trimmed with lace and embroidered with the name
of "Agatha." This he put in his pocket, thanking heaven that his
desperate manoeuvre had kept the shrine inviolate the day before.

"Poor Millie!" said he. "But then I had to do it."

"I hear," remarked Lady Merceron a few days later, "that one of Mr.
Prime's friends has left him--not Willie's young lady--the other."

"Has she?" asked Charlie.

No one pursued the subject, and, after a moment's pause, Mrs. Marland,
who was sitting next to Charlie, asked him in a low voice whether he
had been to the Pool that evening--.

"No," answered Charlie. "I don't go every night."

"Oh, poor dear Miss Bushell!" laughed Mrs. Marland; and, when Charlie
looked inquiringly at her, she shook her head.

"You see, I know something of young men," she explained.

CHAPTER V

AN UNFORESEEN CASE

"I wish to goodness," remarked the Reverend Sigismund Taylor rubbing
the bridge of his nose with a corner of the Manual, "that the Vicar had
never introduced auricular confession. It may be in accordance with the
practice of the Primitive Church, but--one does meet with such very
curious cases. There's nothing the least like it, in the Manual."

He opened the book and searched its pages over again. No, the case had
not been foreseen. It must be included in those which were "left to the
discretion of the priest."

"It's a poor Manual," said Mr. Taylor, throwing it down and putting his
hands in the pocket of his cassock. "Poor girl! She was quite
distressed, too. I must have something to tell her when she comes next
week."

Mr. Taylor had, in face of the difficulty, taken time to consider, and
the penitent had gone away in suspense. To represent oneself as a
dressmaker--well, there was nothing very outrageous in that; it was
unbecoming, but venial, to tell sundry fibs by way of supporting the
assumed character--the Manual was equal to that; but the rest of the
disclosure was the crux. Wrong, no doubt, was the conduct--but how
wrong? That made all the difference. And then there followed another
question: What ought to be done? She had asked for advice about that
also, and, although such counsel was not strictly incumbent on him, he
felt that he ought not to refuse i