tty, moving to the sacrifice. And below, on the other side
of the house, the man was knocking to claim her.

For a moment Mrs. Wesley felt as one in a closing trap. It was she,
not Hetty, upon whom these iron teeth of fate were meeting; and
Hetty, the true victim, had become part of the machine of punishment.
The illusion passed almost as quickly as it had come, and with a
glance at the figure on the bed she hurried downstairs, in time to
meet Hetty at the back door.

As she opened it she heard William Wright's footstep in the passage
behind, and his shuffling halt outside the study door, while Jane,
the servant, rapped for admittance.

Hetty, too, heard it, and bent her head.

"We had best go in at once," Mrs. Wesley suggested, desperately
anxious now to come to the worst and get it over.

Hetty bent her head again and followed without a word. The two men
were standing--the Rector by his writing-table, Mr. Wright a little
inside the door. He drew aside to let the two ladies pass and
waited, fumbling with his hat and stick and eyeing the pattern of the
carpet. There was no boldness about him. It seemed he dared not
look at Hetty.

"Ah!" Mr. Wesley cleared his throat. "There is no reason, Mr.
Wright, why we should protract a business which (as you may guess)
must needs be extremely painful to some of us here. I have made
inquiries about you and find that, though not well-to-do, you bear
the reputation of an honest man, even a kind one. It appears that at
great cost to yourself you have made provision for an aged father,
going (I am told) well beyond the strict limits of a son's duty.
Filial obedience--" The Rector's eyes here fell upon Hetty and he
checked himself. "But I will not enlarge upon that. You ask to
marry my daughter. She is in no position to decline your offer, but
must rather accept it and with thanks, in humility. As her father I
commend her to your love and forbearance."

There was silence for a while. Mr. Wright lifted his head: and now
his culprit's look had vanished and in its place was one of genuine
earnestness.

"I thank ye, sir," he said; "but, if 'tis no liberty, I'd like to
hear what Miss Hetty says." Hetty, too, lifted her eyes and for the
first time since entering rested them on the man who was to be her
husband. Mrs. Wesley saw how they blenched and how she compelled
them to steadiness; and turned her own away.

"Sir," said Hetty, "you have heard my father. Althoug