them in readiness, though, indeed, there were no choristers on Fridays,
but only the ladies, who chanted the responses a great deal more
sweetly, and wore no surplices. Thinking of that, it occurred to Mr
Wentworth how much he would miss the round full notes which always
betrayed Lucy's presence to him even when he did not see her; and he
forgot Elsworthy, and sighed again without thinking of any comment which
might be made upon the sound.

"I'm sorry to see, sir, as you aint in your usual good spirits?" said
that observant spectator, coming closer up to "his clergyman."
Elsworthy's eyes were full of meanings which Mr Wentworth could not,
and had no wish to, decipher.

"I am perfectly well, thank you," said the Perpetual Curate, with his
coldest tone. He had become suspicious of the man, he could scarcely
tell why.

"There's a deal of people in church this morning," said the clerk; and
then he came closer still, and spoke in a kind of whisper. "About that
little matter as we was speaking of, Mr Wentworth--that's all
straight, sir, and there aint no occasion to be vexed. She came back
this morning," said Elsworthy, under his breath.

"Who came back this morning?" asked the Curate, with a little
surprise. His thoughts had been so much with Lucy that no one else
occurred to him at the moment; and even while he asked the question,
his busy fancy began to wonder where she could have been, and what
motive could have taken her away?

"I couldn't mean nobody but Rosa, as I talked to you about last
night," said Elsworthy. "She's come back, sir, as you wished; and I
_have_ heard as she was in Carlingford last night just afore you come,
Mr Wentworth, when I thought as she was far enough off; which you'll
allow, sir, whoever it was she come to see, it wasn't the right thing,
nor what her aunt and me had reason to expect."

The Curate of St Roque's said "Pshaw!" carelessly to himself. He was not
at all interested in Rosa Elsworthy. Instead of making any answer, he
drew on the scarlet band of his hood, and marched away gravely into the
reading-desk, leaving the vestry-door open behind him for the clerk to
follow. The little dangers that harassed his personal footsteps had not
yet awakened so much as an anxiety in his mind. Things much more serious
preoccupied his thoughts. He opened his prayer-book with a consciousness
of the good of it which comes to men only now and then. At Oxford, in
his day, Mr Wentworth had entertained