s secret movement of natural affection,
which, certainly, nobody else suspected; but it was with a sensation of
relief that he closed the Rectory gate behind him, without having
encountered the keen inquiring suspicious glances of the Squire. The
others dispersed according to their pleasure--Mr Waters joining the
party up-stairs, while Mr Proctor followed Jack Wentworth and Wodehouse
to the door with naive natural curiosity. When the excellent man
recollected that he was listening to private conversation, and met
Wodehouse's look of sulky insolence, he turned back again, much
fluttered and disturbed. He had an interest in the matter, though the
two in whose hands it now lay were the last whom he would have chosen as
confidants; and to do him justice, he was thinking of Lucy only in his
desire to hear what they decided upon. "Something might happen to me,"
he said to himself; "and, even if all was well, she would be happier not
to be wholly dependent upon her sister;" with which self-exculpatory
reflection, Mr Proctor slowly followed the others into the drawing-room.
Gerald and Frank, who were neither of them disposed for society, went
away together. They had enough to think of, without much need of
conversation, and they had walked half-way down Grange Lane before
either spoke. Then it was Frank who broke the silence abruptly with a
question which had nothing to do with the business in which they had
been engaged.

"And what do you mean to do?" said Frank, suddenly. It was just as
they came in sight of the graceful spire of St Roque's; and perhaps it
was the sight of his own church which roused the Perpetual Curate to
think of the henceforth aimless life of his brother. "I don't
understand how you are to give up your work. To-night even--"

"I did not forget myself," said Gerald; "every man who can distinguish
good from evil has a right to advise his fellow-creature. I have not
given up that common privilege--don't hope it, Frank," said the
martyr, with a momentary smile.

"If I could but understand why it is that you make this terrible
sacrifice!" said the Curate--"No, I don't want to argue--of course,
you are convinced. I can understand the wish that our unfortunate
division had never taken place; but I can't understand the sacrifice
of a man's life and work. Nothing is perfect in this world; but at
least to do something in it--to be good for something--and with your
faculties, Gerald!" cried the admiring and regre