? See what?" repeated the unfortunate clergyman, in mortal
bewilderment, staring at her hard.

"Oh, you dear, stupid old goose! why, it's as plain as daylight. Can't
you guess?"

Eustace shook his head dolefully.

"Why, Sir John Kynaston has fallen in love with Vera!"

"_Marion!_ impossible!" in an awe-struck whisper. "What can make you
imagine such a thing?"

"Why, everything--the chancel, of course. She must have spoken to him
about it; it is to be done for her; did you not see him look at her? And
then, asking her to go down the village with him; he knows where Hoggs'
cottage is as well as you do, only he couldn't think of anything better."

Eustace literally gasped with the magnitude of the revelation.

"Great Heavens! and I offered to go with him instead of her."

"Yes, you great blundering baby!"

"Oh, my dear, are you sure--are you quite sure? Remember his position and
Vera's."

"Well, and isn't Vera good enough, and beautiful enough, for any
position?" answered her sister, proudly.

"Yes, yes; that is true; God bless her!" he said, fervently. "Marion,
what a clever woman you are to find it out."

"Of course I am clever, sir. But, Eustace, it is only beginning, you
know; so we must just let things take their course, and not seem to
notice anything. And, mind, not a word to your mother."

Meanwhile Vera and Sir John Kynaston were walking down the village street
together. The man awkward and ill at ease, the woman calm and composed,
and thoroughly mistress of the occasion.

"It is very good of you about the chancel," said Vera, softly, breaking
the embarrassment of the silence between them.

"You _knew_ I should do it," he said, looking at her.

She smiled. "I thought perhaps you would."

"You know _why_ I am going to do it--for whose sake, do you not?" he
pursued, still keeping his eyes upon her downcast face.

"Because it is the right thing to do, I hope; and for the sake of doing
good," she answered, sedately; and Sir John felt immediately reproved and
rebuked, as though by the voice of an angelic being.

"Tell me," he said, presently, "is it true that they want you to
marry--that parson--Gisburne, of Tripton? Forgive me for asking."

Vera coloured a little and laughed.

"What dreadful things little boys are!" was all she said.

"Nay, but I want to know. Are you--are you _engaged_ to him?" with a
sudden painful eagerness of manner.

"Most decidedly I am not," she answered, earnestly.