d by decorous people when tidings come of the death of any one who
has been known to them, even in the most distant way. With the exception
of Harry, all the rectory Claverings had been introduced to Lord Ongar,
and were now bound to express something approaching to sorrow. Will any
one dare to call this hypocrisy? If it be so called, who in the world is
not a hypocrite? Where is the man or woman who has not a special face
for sorrow before company? The man or woman who has no such face, would
at once be accused of heartless impropriety.

"It is very sad," said Mrs. Clavering; "only think, it is but little
more than a year since you married them!"

"And twelve such months as they have been for her!" said the Rector,
shaking his head. His face was very lugubrious, for though as a parson
he was essentially a kindly, easy man, to whom humbug was odious, and
who dealt little in the austerities of clerical denunciation, still he
had his face of pulpit sorrow for the sins of the people--what I may
perhaps call his clerical knack of gentle condemnation--and could
therefore assume a solemn look, and a little saddened motion of his
head, with more ease than people who are not often called upon for such
action.

"Poor woman!" said Fanny, thinking of the woman's married sorrows, and
her early widowhood.

"Poor man!" said Mary, shuddering as she thought of the husband's fate.

"I hope," said Harry, almost sententiously, "that no one in this house
will condemn her upon such mere rumors as have been heard."

"Why should any one in this house condemn her," said the Rector, "even
if there were more than rumors? My dears, judge not, lest ye be judged.
As regards her, we are bound by close ties not to speak ill of her--or
even to think ill, unless we cannot avoid it. As far as I know, we have
not even any reason for thinking ill." Then he went out, changed the
tone of his countenance among the rectory stables, and lit his cigar.

Three days after that, a second note was brought down from the great
house to the rectory, and this was from Lady Clavering to Harry. "Dear
Harry," ran the note--"Could you find time to come up to me this
morning? Sir Hugh has gone to North Priory. Ever yours, H. C." Harry, of
course, went, and as he went, he wondered how Sir Hugh could have had
the heart to go to North Priory at such a moment. North Priory was a
hunting seat some thirty miles from Clavering, belonging to a great
nobleman with whom Sir Hu