on that golden morning in
June on the edge of the flowering meadows; and even to Phyllis only the
bare outlines of the interview were vouchsafed.

That she was free, and that Lord Wyverton felt no bitterness over his
disappointment, he himself assured her. He uttered no word of reproach.
He did not so much as hint that she had given him cause for complaint. He
was absolutely composed, even friendly.

He barely mentioned her sister's interference in the matter, and he
said nothing whatsoever as to her singular method of dealing with the
situation. It was Molly who briefly imparted this action of hers, and
her manner of so doing did not invite criticism.

Thereafter she went back to her multitudinous duties without an apparent
second thought, shouldering her burden with her usual serenity; and no
one imagined for a moment what tumultuous hopes and doubts underlay her
calm exterior.

Lord Wyverton left the place, and the general aspect of things returned
to their usual placidity.

The announcement of the engagement of the vicar's eldest daughter to Jim
Freeman, the doctor's assistant in the neighbouring town, created a small
stir among the gossips. It was generally felt that, good fellow as young
Freeman undoubtedly was, pretty Phyllis Neville might have done far
better for herself. A rumour even found credence in some quarters that
she had actually refused the wealthy aristocrat for Jim Freeman's sake,
but there were not many who held this belief. It implied a foolishness
too sublime.

Discussion died down after Phyllis's return to her work. It was
understood that her marriage was to take place in the winter. Molly's
hands were, in consequence, very full, and she had obviously no time to
talk of her sister's choice. There was only one visitor who ever called
at the Vicarage in anything approaching to state. Her visits usually
occurred about twice a year, and possessed something of the nature of a
Royal favour. This was Lady Caryl, the Lady of the Manor, in whose gift
the living lay.

This lady had always shown a marked preference for the vicar's second
daughter.

"Mary Neville," she would remark to her friends, "is severely handicapped
by circumstance, but she will make her mark in spite of it. Her beauty is
extraordinary, and I cannot believe that Providence has destined her for
a farmer's wife."

It was on a foggy afternoon at the end of November that Lady Caryl's
carriage turned in at the Vicarage gates for