nto the west
parlour. In a moment I had risen and followed him, and, walking
carefully on the carpet which covered it, then, reached the door of the
sitting-room without being heard, and through the chink of the
half-open door I saw my brother stoop down and whisper something
confidentially in my wife's ear.

"I entered the room immediately afterwards, and Lewis made some casual
remark about the sunset, while Agnes went on quietly sewing. How to
endure my agony of mind I knew not, for I now felt convinced that my
doubts were warranted; but I was determined to control my feelings and
restrain any expression of anger until after the birth of her child,
which was fast approaching, as I still loved her too much to endanger
her health, and I knew that if once the floodgates of my anger were
opened the storm of passion would be beyond my control.

"On the following Sunday Agnes came to church for the last time, and
after the service I went into the vestry to take off my gown; and as I
followed the stream of worshippers leaving the porch, I saw her joined
by Lewis, who walked with her towards the lych gate, and before I
reached them I distinctly saw him place a note in her hand. She
quickly put it in her pocket, and, with a friendly and satisfied nod,
he turned round to speak to a neighbouring farmer.

"The blood surged through my veins"--and the old man rose from his
chair and stood before his son, who sat with his elbow on the table.
Unconsciously the Vicar seemed to take the position of a prisoner
before his judge; his hands were clenched nervously, and as he spoke he
drew his handkerchief over his damp face.

"Yes," he said, "my blood surged through my veins, but even then I did
not speak a word of complaint or anger. Had I done so, I might have
been spared the years of anguish and remorse which have been my share
since then.

"I walked home silently by my wife's side, forcing myself to make some
casual remark. She answered as coldly. And thus passed away our only
chance of explanation and reconciliation. You are silent, Caradoc; you
do not like to speak the condemnation and the contempt which you feel
for your father."

"Father," said Cardo, "I feel nothing but pity for you and pity for my
poor mother. As for my uncle--"

"Wait, wait, Cardo; let me finish my story. That was the last time
your mother came to church. In a short time afterwards you were born,
and during the intervening time I struggled har