the presence
of the 'Erl-king.'

Rowland and Freda seem to ask the same question, for, loosening that
close grasp of hands, and without one word of love, they walk hastily
towards the house. Rowland talks rapidly the whole way, interrupted by
an occasional sentence from Freda. Readers, there is no proposal, no
acceptance. The conversation is as follows:--

_Rowland._--I have just received letters from the Bishop of London and
Mr Jones offering me the living, and telling me that the parishioners
wish me for their rector. I am most thankful now, for it puts me in a
very different position--it allows me to hope, and with less
presumption.

_Freda._--It makes no difference to me, you are yourself whether rector
or curate. But I rejoice for your sake, and to know that they appreciate
you.

_Rowland._--You will know and believe that it was Miss Gwynne, Freda,
the woman, not the heiress, that I have loved so long and so well.

_Freda._--I am no longer an heiress; you are far the best off.

_Rowland._--I am most thankful. Had this wide park still been yours, I
could never have said what I have dared to say to-day; but let me repeat
once more your words that I may remember who I am--a farmer's son, your
father's tenant.

_Freda._--A clergyman, a gentleman, and a Christian.

_Rowland._--My brother-in-law a--a--felon.

_Freda._--Yourself not changed by your brother-in-law's crimes.

_Rowland._--If then in the course of another year our present painful
position should be forgotten, or at least, at rest, when I am
established at the rectory as rector, when I can come forward on my own
responsibility, when, in short, I can say without compunction all I now
feel, may I hope?'

_Freda._--Then as now, you may be certain.

They were on the steps before the door of the house; again their hands
were firmly clasped.

_Rowland._--Till then, farewell, and God bless you.

_Freda._--Will you not come in?

_Rowland._--No, I would rather not now.

_Freda._--Then God bless you, and be with you during your coming trial.

And thus they parted, happy, and having perfect faith in one another.

CHAPTER LI.

THE CONVICT.

Forgeries of all sorts are so much the taste of genteel rogues of the
present age, that the reader will readily dispense with a detailed
account of the trial and conviction of Howel Jenkins. Any one of the
various cases that fill those columns of the _Times_, devoted to such
criminalities, will g