e moment, it is probable that
he would have denied himself the comfort of supporting Lucy--he, a man
under ban; but he was thinking only of her, as he stood facing them
all with her arm drawn through his; upon which conjunction the Rector
and the late Rector looked with a grim aspect, disposed to interfere,
but not knowing how.

"All this may be very interesting to you," said the stranger out of
his beard; "if Lucy don't know her brother, it is no fault of mine. Mr
Waters has only said half he has got to say; and as for the rest, to
sum it up in half-a-dozen words, I'm very glad to see you in my house,
gentlemen, and I hope you will make yourselves at home. Where nobody
understands, a man has to speak plain. I've been turned out all my
life and, by Jove! I don't mean to stand it any longer. The girls can
have what their father's left them," said the vagabond, in his moment
of triumph. "They aint my business no more than I was theirs. The
property is freehold, and Waters is aware that I'm the heir."

Saying this, Wodehouse drew a chair to the table, and sat down with
emphasis. He was the only man seated in the room, and he kept his
place in his sullen way amid the excited group which gathered round
him. As for Miss Wodehouse, some sense of what had happened penetrated
even her mind. She too rose up and wiped her tears from her face, and
looked round, pale and scared, to the Curate. "I was thinking--of
speaking to Lucy. I meant to ask her--to take you back, Tom," said the
elder sister. "Oh, Mr Wentworth, tell me, for heaven's sake, what does
it mean?"

"If I had only been permitted to explain," said Mr Waters; "my worthy
partner died intestate--his son is his natural heir. Perhaps we need not
detain the ladies longer, now that they understand it. All the rest can
be better arranged with their representative. I am very sorry to add to
their sufferings today," said the polite lawyer, opening the door;
"everything else can be made the subject of an arrangement." He held the
door open with a kind of civil coercion compelling their departure. The
familiar room they were in no longer belonged to the Miss Wodehouses.
Lucy drew her arm out of Mr Wentworth's, and took her sister's hand.

"You will be our representative," she said to him, out of the fulness
of her heart. When the door closed, the Perpetual Curate took up his
position, facing them all with looks more lofty than belonged even to
his Wentworth blood. They had kept