s eyes full on the new-comer's face.

"I want to know if Rosa has come home," he repeated, in the clearest
tones of his clear voice. "I am told she called at Mrs Hadwin's half
an hour ago. Has she come back?"

He scarcely noticed Mrs Elsworthy's answer, for, in the mean time, the
cigar dropped out of Wodehouse's beard, out of his fingers. He made an
involuntary step back out of the Curate's way. "By Jove!" he exclaimed
to himself--the news was more important to him than to either of the
others. After a minute he turned his back upon them, and kicked the
cigar which he had dropped out into the street with much blundering
and unnecessary violence--but turned round and stopped short in this
occupation as soon as he heard Mrs Elsworthy's voice.

"She hasn't come here," said that virtuous woman, sharply. "I've give
in to Elsworthy a deal, but I never said I'd give in to take her back.
She's been and disgraced us all; and she's not a drop's blood to me,"
said Mrs Elsworthy. "Them as has brought her to this pass had best
look after her; I've washed my hands of Rosa, and all belonging to
her. She knows better than to come here."

"Who's speaking of Rosa?" said Elsworthy, who just then came in with
his bundle of newspapers from the railway. "I might have know'd as it
was Mr Wentworth. Matters is going to be cleared, sir, between me and
you. If you was going to make a proposal, I aint revengeful; and I'm
open to any arrangement as is honourable, to save things coming afore
the public. I've been expecting of it. You may speak free, sir. You
needn't be afraid of me."

"Fool!" said the Curate, hotly, "your niece has been seen in
Carlingford; she came to my door, I am told, about an hour ago. Give
up this folly, and let us make an effort to find her. I tell you she
came to my house--"

"In course, sir," said Elsworthy; "it was the most naturalest place
for her to go. Don't you stand upon it no longer, as if you could
deceive folks. It will be your ruin, Mr Wentworth--you know that as
well as I do. I aint no fool but I'm open to a honourable proposal, I
am. It'll ruin you--ay, and I'll ruin you," cried Rosa's uncle,
hoarsely--"if you don't change your mind afore to-morrow. It's your
last chance, if you care for your character, is to-night."

Mr Wentworth did not condescend to make any answer. He followed
Wodehouse, who had shuffled out after his cigar, and stopped him on
the step. "I wonder if it is any use appealing to your h