d read. He met him, not with severity,
but with a deep gravity which conveyed the idea that something serious
required discussion, and that he earnestly hoped the culprit would be
able to clear himself of the charge.

In the hall they were met by Mistress Grena and Gertrude, who had seen
them coming, and who came forward, as in duty bound, to show extra
respect to their spiritual pastor. The genuine spirituality was more
than dubious: but that did not matter. He was a "spiritual person"--
though the person was exceedingly unspiritual!

The priest gave a blessing to the ladies with two fingers extended in a
style which must require some practice, and at Mistress Grena's request
sat down with them to supper. During the meal the conversation was
general, though the priest retained his serious aspect of something
unpleasant to come. The heavy part of the supper was over, and cheese,
with late apples, Malaga raisins, and Jordan almonds, had made their
appearance; the ladies prepared to withdraw.

"Mistress Holland," said the Rector, "I beseech you to tarry yet a
little season"--adding to Gertrude, "I need not detain you, my
daughter."

Gertrude escaped with great satisfaction. "Those two are going to catch
it!" she said to herself; "I am glad I am out of it!" Mr Roberts knew
sorrowfully that the surmise was woefully true, but he was rather
relieved to find that his sister-in-law was "going to catch it" with
him. Her presence was a sort of stick for him to lean on.

"My son," said the Rector to Mr Roberts, with an air of sorrowful
reluctance to begin a distasteful piece of work, "it troubleth me sorely
to do that I must needs do, but necessity hath no law. Remember, I pray
you, that as yesterday I called here, desiring to have speech of your
youngest daughter, and was told by Osmund your butler that she was
visiting a friend."

"That was fully truth, Father," said Mistress Grena, as if she supposed
that the Rector was about to complain of some duplicity on the part of
Osmund.

Mr Bastian waved aside the assurance.

"I left word," he continued, repeating the words with emphasis, "_I left
word_ that I would call to see her this morrow. Here am I; and what
have I now learned? That she left this house yester-even, without so
much as a word of excuse, not to say a beseechment of pardon, when she
knew that I purposed having speech of her." His voice became more
stern. "Is this the manner wherein ye deal with