e time to
talk of Mr Wentworth's affairs." There was no time to explain anything
farther, for just then old Mrs Western, who was a distant cousin,
knocked at the door. "God help you, my poor dear children!" said the
old lady; "they are all waiting for you down-stairs," and it was with
this delusion in her mind, embittering every thought, that Lucy went
into the drawing-room where they were all assembled. The madness of
the idea did not strike her somehow, even when she saw the grave
assembly, which it was strange to think could have been brought
together to listen to any explanation from the Perpetual Curate. He
was standing there prominent enough among them, with a certain air of
suppressed passion in his face, which Lucy divined almost without
seeing it. For her own part, she went in with perfect firmness,
supporting her sister, whose trembling was painful to see. There was
no other lady in the room except old Mrs Western, who would not sit
down, but hovered behind the chairs which had been placed for the
sisters near the table at which Mr Waters was standing. By the side of
Mr Waters was the man who had been at the funeral, and whom nobody
knew, and a few gentlemen who were friends of the family were in the
room--the Rector, by virtue of his office, and Mr Proctor and Dr
Marjoribanks; and any one whose attention was sufficiently disengaged
to note the details of the scene might have perceived John, who had
been fifteen years with Mr Wodehouse, and the old cook in her black
gown, who was of older standing in the family than Alland herself,
peeping in, whenever it was opened, through the door.

"Now that the Miss Wodehouses are here, we may proceed to business,"
said Mr Waters. "Some of the party are already aware that I have an
important communication to make. I am very sorry if it comes abruptly
upon anybody specially interested. My late partner, much respected
though he has always been, was a man of peculiar views in many
respects. Dr Marjoribanks will bear me out in what I say. I had been
his partner for ten years before I found this out, highly important as
it will be seen to be; and I believe Mr Wentworth, though an intimate
friend of the family, obtained the information by a kind of
accident--"

The stranger muttered something in his beard which nobody could hear,
and the Perpetual Curate interposed audibly. "Would it not be best to
make the explanations afterwards?" said Mr Wentworth--and he changed
his own