uire,
almost in the same breath. Both laughed a little.

"Not that I would not do it at once, if necessary," added Mr. Juxon.

"Or I, in a moment," said Mr. Ambrose.

"Of course," returned Mr. Juxon. "Only it is such a very delicate matter,
you see."

"Dear me, yes," murmured the vicar, "a most delicate matter. Poor lady!"

"Poor lady!" echoed the squire. "But I suppose it must be done."

"Oh yes--we cannot do otherwise," answered Mr. Ambrose, still hoping that
his companion would volunteer to perform the disagreeable office.

"Well then, will you--will you do it?" asked Mr. Juxon, anxious to have
the matter decided.

"Why not go together?" suggested the vicar.

"No," said Mr. Juxon firmly. "It would be an intolerable ordeal for the
poor woman. I think I see your objection. Perhaps you think that Mrs.
Ambrose--"

"Exactly, Mrs. Ambrose," echoed the vicar with a grim smile.

"Oh precisely--then I will do it," said the squire. And he forthwith did,
and was very much surprised at the result.

CHAPTER XV.

It was late in the afternoon when Mr. Juxon walked down towards the
cottage, accompanied by the vicar. In spite of their mutual anxiety to be
of service to Mrs. Goddard, when they had once decided how to act they
had easily fallen into conversation about other matters, the black letter
Paracelsus had received its full share of attention and many another rare
volume had been brought out and examined. Neither the vicar nor his host
believed that there was any hurry; if Goddard ever succeeded in getting
to Billingsfield it would not be to-day, nor to-morrow either.

The weather had suddenly changed; the east was already clear and over the
west, where the sun was setting in a fiery mist, the huge clouds were
banked up against the bright sky, fringed with red and purple, but no
longer threatening rain or snow. The air was sharp and the plentiful mud
in the roads was already crusted with a brittle casing of ice.

The squire took leave of Mr. Ambrose at the turning where the road led
into the village and then walked back to the cottage. Even his solid
nerves were a little unsettled at the prospect of the interview
before him; but he kept a stout heart and asked for Mrs. Goddard in his
usual quiet voice. Martha told him that Mrs. Goddard had a bad headache,
but on inquiry found that she would see the squire. He entered the
drawing-room softly and went forward to greet her; she was sitting in a
deep chair