d have scourged himself on the
spot for an unpardonable breach of manners and feeling.

However, Miss Boyce certainly made no sign. She received him without any
_empressement_, but also without the smallest symptom of offence. They
all moved into the church together, Mr. Raeburn carrying a vast bundle
of ivy and fern, the rector and his sister laden with closely-packed
baskets of cut flowers. Everything was laid down on the chancel steps
beside Marcella's contribution, and then the Hardens began to plan out
operations. Miss Harden ran over on her fingers the contributions which
had been sent in to the rectory, or were presently coming over to the
church in a hand-cart. "Lord Maxwell has sent the most _beautiful_ pots
for the chancel," she said, with a grateful look at young Raeburn. "It
will be quite a show." To which the young rector assented warmly. It was
very good, indeed, of Lord Maxwell to remember them always so liberally
at times like these, when they had so little direct claim upon him. They
were not his church or his parish, but he never forgot them all the
same, and Mellor was grateful. The rector had all his sister's gentle
effusiveness, but a professional dignity besides, even in his thanks,
which made itself felt.

Marcella flushed as he was speaking.

"I went to see what I could get in the way of greenhouse things," she
said in a sudden proud voice. "But we have nothing. There are the
houses, but there is nothing in them. But you shall have all our
out-of-door flowers, and I think a good deal might be done with autumn
leaves and wild things if you will let me try."

A speech, which brought a flush to Mr. Raeburn's cheek as he stood in
the background, and led Mary Harden into an eager asking of Marcella's
counsels, and an eager praising of her flowers.

Aldous Raeburn said nothing, but his discomfort increased with every
moment. Why had his grandfather been so officious in this matter of the
flowers? All very well when Mellor was empty, or in the days of a miser
and eccentric, without womankind, like Robert Boyce. But now--the act
began to seem to him offensive, a fresh affront offered to an
unprotected girl, whose quivering sensitive look as she stood talking to
the Hardens touched him profoundly. Mellor church might almost be
regarded as the Boyces' private chapel, so bound up was it with the
family and the house. He realised painfully that he ought to be
gone--yet could not tear himself away. Her p