s
suddenly aware of a temptation--

"How there looked him in the face An angel beautiful and bright, And how
he knew it was a fiend."

"Of course the Rectory will go to Frank." He could not tell why at that
moment the words rang into his ear with such a penetrating sound. That
he hated himself for being able to think of such a possibility made no
difference. It came darting and tingling into his mind like one of those
suggestions of blasphemy which the devils whispered in Christian's ear
as he went through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. He went on faster
than ever to escape from it, scarcely observing that Mrs Morgan, instead
of simply acknowledging his bow as she passed, stopped to shake hands,
and to say how glad she was he had come back again. He thought of it
afterwards with wonder and a strange gratitude. The Rector's wife was
not like the conventional type of a pitying angel; and even had she been
so, he had not time to recognise her at that moment as he went
struggling with his demons to Mr Wodehouse's green door.

CHAPTER XXI.

When the green door was opened, Mr Wentworth saw at a glance that
there was agitation and trouble in the house. Lights were twinkling
irregularly in the windows here and there, but the family apartment,
the cheerful drawing-room, which generally threw its steady, cheerful
blaze over the dark garden, shone but faintly with half-extinguished
lights and undrawn curtains. It was evident at a glance that the room
was deserted, and its usual occupants engaged elsewhere. "Master's
very bad, sir," said the servant who opened the door; "the young
ladies is both with him, and a hired nurse come in besides. The doctor
don't seem to have no great hopes, but it will be a comfort to know as
you have come back. Miss Wodehouse wanted you very bad an hour or two
ago, for they thought as master was reviving, and could understand.
I'll go and let them know you are here."

"Don't disturb them, unless I can be of use," said Mr Wentworth. The
look of the house, and the atmosphere of distress and anxiety about
it, chilled him suddenly. His visions and hopes seemed guilty and
selfish as he went slowly up those familiar steps and into the house,
over which the shadow of death seemed already lying. He went by
himself into the forsaken drawing-room, where two neglected candles
were burning feebly in a corner, and the wistful sky looking in as if
to ask why the domestic temple was thus left open an