n, with
the mist of preoccupation gathering again over his smiling eyes. The
Curate went back to his corner after that, and lost himself in
thoughts and anxieties still more painful. What had Jack to do in
Carlingford? what connection had he with those initials, or how did he
know their owner? All sorts of horrible fears came over the Curate of
St Roque's. He had not seen his elder brother for years, and Jack's
career was not one for the family to be proud of. Had he done
something too terrible to be hidden--too clamorous to let his name
drop out of remembrance, as was to be desired for the credit of the
Wentworths? This speculation whiled the night away but drearily, as the
Perpetual Curate went back to the unknown tide of cares which had
surged in his absence into his momentarily abandoned place.

CHAPTER XX.

Mr Wentworth got back to Carlingford by a happy concurrence of trains
before the town had gone to sleep. It was summer, when the days are at
the longest, and the twilight was just falling into night as he took
his way through George Street. He went along the familiar street with
a certain terror of looking into people's faces whom he met, and of
asking questions, such as was natural to a man who did not know
whether something of public note might not have happened in his
absence to call attention to his name. He imagined, indeed, that he
did see a strange expression in the looks of the townsfolk he
encountered on his way. He thought they looked at him askance as they
made their salutations, and said something to each other after they
passed, which, indeed, in several cases was true enough, though the
cause was totally different from anything suspected by Mr Wentworth.
Anxious to know, and yet unwilling to ask, it was with a certain
relief that the Curate saw the light gleaming out from the open door
of Elsworthy's shop as he approached. He went in and tossed down his
travelling-bag on the counter, and threw himself on the solitary chair
which stood outside for the accommodation of customers, with a
suppressed excitement, which made his question sound abrupt and
significant to the ears of Elsworthy. "Has anything happened since I
went away?" said Mr Wentworth, throwing a glance round the shop which
alarmed his faithful retainer. Somehow, though nothing was farther
from his mind than little Rosa, or any thought of her, the Curate
missed the pretty little figure at the first glance.

"Well--no, sir; not