to me, and Mr and Mrs
Jonathan to Mr Rowland. I hope you have been studying the antiquities of
Wales at Oxford, Mr Rowland?'

This was said as Mrs Prothero left the room; and Rowland was startled
from a rather earnest gaze on Miss Gwynne's very handsome and animated
face, by this sudden appeal to him, and by meeting that young lady's
eyes as they turned towards him. A slight blush from the lady and a very
deep one from the gentleman were the result. The lady was indignant with
herself for allowing such a symptom of female weakness to appear, and
said somewhat peremptorily,--

'Will you be so good as to tell Jones to take the horses home, and to
let my father know that he must not wait luncheon, or even dinner for
me?'

'Excuse me, Miss Gwynne,' said the young man, recovering his composure,
'but I do not think my mother would be justified in allowing you to
attend upon that poor girl.'

'Allowing me! Really I do not mean to ask her. I choose to do it, thank
you, and I will speak to the servant myself.'

It was now Miss Gwynne's turn to grow very red, as, with haughty port,
she swept past Rowland, leaving him muttering to himself.

'What a pity that one so noble should be so determined and absolute. Let
her go, however. Nobody shall say that I lent a hand to her remaining
here. In the first place she runs the risk of infection, in the second
every one else thinks she degrades herself by coming here as she does.
Still, her desire to take care of the girl is a fine, natural trait of
character. I must just go and look over the _Guardian_. A curacy in
England I am resolved to get, away from all temptation. Yet I hate
answering advertisements, or advertising. If my aunt's friends would
only interest themselves in procuring me a London curacy, I think I
should like to work there. That would be labouring in the vineyard, with
a positive certainty of reaping some of the fruits.'

The soliloquy was interrupted by the reappearance of Mrs Prothero,
dressed for her walk.

'Mother, you ought not to let Miss Gwynne stay.'

'I! my dear Rowland! Do you think she would mind what I say to her?'

Miss Gwynne entered.

'I have sent off the servant, and now let me go to the girl.'

This was said with the decision of an empress, and with equal grandeur
and dignity was the bow made with which she honoured Rowland as she made
her exit, followed meekly by Mrs Prothero.

A short time afterwards she was alone by the bedside of the s