abuse of morality, no such disregard of
Hussell Barter.

"You have been guilty of indelicacy!" This indictment had a wriggling
sting, and lost no venom from the fact that he could in no wise have
perceived where the indelicacy of his conduct lay. But he did not try to
perceive it. Against himself, clergyman and gentleman, the monstrosity
of the charge was clear. This was a point of morality. He felt no anger
against George; it was the woman that excited his just wrath. For so
long he had been absolute among women, with the power, as it were, over
them of life and death. This was flat immorality! He had never approved
of her leaving her husband; he had never approved of her at all! He
turned his steps towards the Firs.

From above the hedges the sleepy cows looked down; a yaffle laughed a
field or two away; in the sycamores, which had come out before their
time, the bees hummed. Under the smile of the spring the innumerable
life of the fields went carelessly on around that square black figure
ploughing along the lane with head bent down under a wide-brimmed hat.

George Pendyce, in a fly drawn by an old grey horse, the only vehicle
that frequented the station at Worsted Skeynes, passed him in the lane,
and leaned back to avoid observation. He had not forgotten the tone of
the Rector's voice in the smoking-room on the night of the dance. George
was a man who could remember as well as another. In the corner of the
old fly, that rattled and smelled of stables and stale tobacco, he fixed
his moody eyes on the driver's back and the ears of the old grey horse,
and never stirred till they set him down at the hall door.

He went at once to his room, sending word that he had come for the night.
His mother heard the news with feelings of joy and dread, and she dressed
quickly for dinner, that she might see him the sooner. The Squire came
into her room just as she was going down. He had been engaged all day at
Sessions, and was in one of the moods of apprehension as to the future
which but seldom came over him.

"Why didn't you keep Vigil to dinner?" he said. "I could have given him
things for the night. I wanted to talk to him about insuring my life; he
knows, about that. There'll be a lot of money wanted, to pay my
death-duties. And if the Radicals get in I shouldn't be surprised if
they put them up fifty per cent."

"I wanted to keep him," said Mrs. Pendyce, "but he went away without
saying good-bye."