Her
frigid dignity and forced politeness caused discomfort even to him,
thereby lowering her status in his eyes, lessening the ardour of his
admiration for her. Mr Pennycuick, such a stickler for hospitality,
scarcely spoke a word to the guest. Rose was a nobody, but still might
have done something in the way of entertainment; and she quite ignored
him, looking down as if to hide eyes that had been crying. Frances was
eager to engage in conversation, but was bidden roughly by her father
to hold her tongue. The stately governess wore only more ostentatiously
than usual the detached air that always marked her out of school; and
it was left to poor Miss Keene, with her timid platitudes, to keep up
an appearance of civility.

Mr Pennycuick vanished abruptly after dinner; it was presently rumoured
that he was not well, and had gone to bed. Frances was taken away to
prepare lessons. Rose and Deborah came and went. Coffee was served. The
parson was again left to Miss Keene, who would not be pumped for
confidences, further than to admit that Mary was keeping her room with
a headache, in consequence of the agitating visit of Captain Carey, but
laboriously talked parish to him, without appearing to know anything of
the subject. So the poor man actually became so bored that he changed
his mind about staying for the night. He remembered that there was a
good moon, and that he had an early engagement next morning, and
ordered his buggy soon after nine o'clock. Afterwards he believed that
it was the direct voice of the Lord that had called him to take his
journey home at that hour.

He drove alone, having a steady (Redford) mare, that stood quietly at
gates and doors, and no groom--a luxury almost unknown amongst country
parsons, who must all keep horses. The night was beautiful, still, cool
and clear, the moon so full that he could see for miles. Because of
this, he took his daylight short cuts across country, preferring grass
when he could get it to the dusty summer road. And one of his short
cuts led along the top of the embankment of the big dam.

He slackened speed at this spot, touched by the beauty of the scene,
which could hardly have appealed in vain to any man who had just had a
good dinner. How peacefully the still water lay under the shining
moon--that moon which is capable of making, not soft young lovers only,
but the toughest old stagers sentimental--nay, maudlin--at times; an
intoxicant purged of the grossness of