aken about him, and the being of her
imagination would prove so unlike the reality that doubts and misgivings
would fly to the winds, made ridiculous by a very ordinary individual,
devoid of all the mystery, all the glamour cast over him in day-dreams?

If so, of course she would be glad; it would be the best possible thing
to happen; and yet? "I shall have to get rid of this Paul from my
thoughts somehow," she decided. "He worries me. If he would only come
and be done with it!"

It was evident that Maud attached a certain _eclat_ to her lover's
piety; she recurred to the subject more than once.

"It is all very well for father to make light of it, but I do hope he
understands that it is no joke with Paul. Paul is very sensible, and
never thrusts his opinions on other people, but no one ever thinks of
laughing at them to him."

"It is only father's way," began Sue, distressed; but her sister
continued, unheeding. When Maud had a thing to say she was not to be
defrauded of saying it, and she had now got the ear of the house in the
shape of two other attentive listeners.

"What I mean is that father always seems to think that it is only
clergymen who really care about religion. He looks upon it as their
trade,--oh, he does, Sue--and he would be the first to be down on them
if they neglected their trade,--but as for other people, particularly
other men's caring--and Paul _does_ care, that's the unfortunate part of
it."

"Why unfortunate, dear Maud?" said Sue, gently.

"Oh, I only mean lest he and father should clash," explained Maud with
perfect coolness. "I am not speaking of my own feelings. _I_ don't
mind." After a pause she subjoined: "You might give father a hint, Sue."

"And what about asking Mr. Custance to dinner?" struck in Sybil, who had
hearkened to the above uneasily, yet with a different sort of uneasiness
from that which made poor Sue breathe an unconscious sigh. "It might
create a good impression. Well?"

"It wouldn't take Paul in for a moment," said Maud. "Still," she
hesitated and looked over her shoulder as she was leaving the room, "a
third person might be of use on the first evening after dinner. Just as
you like about that," and she passed out with the air of a queen. She
felt every inch a queen in those days.

"So it wouldn't take Paul in for a moment?" The words raised a new
question in Leonore's mind. If Paul where his deeper feelings were
concerned were thus acute and clear-sighted, how