hand as if to hold him still, and her voice rang hard and
thin.

"I will say my say," she said. "It is not for that that I have done it.
But you are a Gospel-minister, and must be faithful. The Justice is here.
I sent for him."

"The Justice?" he said blankly; but his heart was beating heavily in his
throat.

"Mr. Frankland from East Grinsted, with a couple of pursuivants and a
company of servants. There is a popish agent at the Hall, and they are
come to take him."

The Rector swallowed with difficulty once or twice, and then tried to
speak, but she went on. "And I have promised that you shall take them in
by the side door."

"I will not!" he cried.

She held up her hand again for silence, and glanced round at the door.

"I have given him the key," she said.

This was the private key, possessed by the incumbent for generations
past, and Sir Nicholas had not withdrawn it from the Protestant Rector.

"There is no choice," she said. "Oh! George, be a man!" Then she turned
and slipped out.

He stood perfectly still for a moment; his pulses were racing; he could
not think. He sat down and buried his face in his hands; and gradually
his brain cleared and quieted. Then he realised what it meant, and his
soul rose in blind furious resentment. This was the last straw; it was
the woman's devilish jealousy. But what could he do? The Justice was
here. Could he warn his friends? He clenched his fingers into his hair as
the situation came out clear and hard before his brain. Dear God, what
could he do?

There were footsteps in the flagged hall, and he raised his head as the
door opened and a portly gentleman in riding-dress came in, followed by
Mrs. Dent. The Rector rose confusedly, but could not speak, and his eyes
wandered round to his wife again and again as she took a chair in the
shadow and sat down. But the magistrate noticed nothing.

"Aha!" he said, beaming, "You have a wife, sir, that is a jewel. Solomon
never spoke a truer word; an ornament to her husband, he said, I think;
but you as a minister should know better than I, a mere layman"; and his
face creased with mirth.

What did the red-faced fool mean? thought the Rector. If only he would
not talk so loud! He must think, he must think. What could he do?

"She was very brisk, sir," the magistrate went on, sitting down, and the
Rector followed his example, sitting too with his back to the window and
his hand to his head.

Then Mr. Frankland went on with