fancy. One
lady in Exeter--I won't mention names--has already pulled him up with a
direct inquiry as to his intentions; at her house, I imagine, he will
no more be seen.'

The genial parson chuckled over his narrative, and Martin, by no means
predisposed in the Rev. Bruno's favour, took care to report these
matters to his wife.

'I don't believe a word of it!' exclaimed Mrs. Warricombe. 'All the
clergy are jealous of Mr. Chilvers.'

'What? Of his success with ladies?'

'Martin! It is something new for you to be profane!--They are jealous
of his high reputation.'

'Rather a serious charge against our respectable friends.'

'And the stories are all nonsense,' pursued Mrs. Warricombe. 'It's very
wrong of Mr. Lilywhite to report such things. I don't believe any other
clergyman would have done so.'

Martin smiled--as he had been accustomed to do all through his married
life--and let the discussion rest there. On the next occasion of Mr.
Chilvers being at the house, he observed the reverend man's behaviour
with Sidwell, and was not at all pleased. Bruno had a way of addressing
women which certainly went beyond the ordinary limits of courtesy. At a
little distance, anyone would have concluded that he was doing his best
to excite Sidwell's affectionate interest. The matter of his discourse
might be unobjectionable, but the manner of it was not in good taste.

Mrs. Warricombe was likewise observant, but with other emotions. To her
it seemed a subject for pleasurable reflection, that Mr. Chilvers
should show interest in Sidwell. The Rev. Bruno had bright prospects.
With the colour of his orthodoxy she did not concern herself. He was
ticketed 'broad', a term which carried with it no disparagement; and
Sidwell's sympathies were altogether with the men of 'breadth'. The
time drew near when Sidwell must marry, if she ever meant to do so, and
in comparison with such candidates as Mr Walsh and Godwin Peak, the
Rector of St. Margaret's would be an ideal husband for her. Sidwell's
attitude towards Mr. Chilvers was not encouraging, but Mrs. Warricombe
suspected that a lingering regard for the impostor, so lately unmasked,
still troubled her daughter's mind: a new suitor, even if rejected,
would help the poor girl to dismiss that shocking infatuation.

Sidwell and her father nowadays spent much time together, and in the
autumn days it became usual for them to have an afternoon ramble about
the lanes. Their talk was of science a