mense piece of water, two miles from
the house. My lord has not returned from his moor in Scotland; my lady
is alone. No company in the house: it is like saying, "No acquaintance
in a city." But the retinue is full. Though she dined alone she might,
had she pleased, have had almost as many servants to gaze upon her as
there were windows now staring at her lonely walk with their glassy
spectral eyes.

Just as Lady Montfort gains the wicket she is overtaken by a visitor,
walking fast from the gravel sweep by the front door, where he has
dismounted, where he has caught sight of her: any one so dismounting
might have caught sight of her; could not help it. Gardens so fine were
made on purpose for fine persons walking in them to be seen.

"Ah, Lady Montfort," said the visitor, stammering painfully, "I am so
glad to find you at home."

"At home, George!" said the lady, extending her hand; "where else is it
likely that I should be found? But how pale you are! What has happened?"

She seated herself on a bench, under a cedar-tree, just without the
wicket; and George Morley, our old friend the Oxonian, seated himself by
her side familiarly, but with a certain reverence. Lady Montfort was
a few years older than himself, his cousin: he had known her from his
childhood.

"What has happened!" he repeated; "nothing new. I have just come from
visiting the good bishop."

"He does not hesitate to ordain you?" "No; but I shall never ask him to
do so."

"My dear cousin, are you not over-scrupulous? You would be an ornament
to the Church, sufficient in all else to justify your compulsory
omission of one duty, which a curate could perform for you."

Morley shook his head sadly. "One duty omitted!" said he. "But is it not
that duty which distinguishes the priest from the layman? and how far
extends that duty? Whereever there needs a voice to speak the word,--not
in the pulpit only, but at the hearth, by the sick-bed,--there should
be the Pastor! No: I cannot, I ought not, I dare not! Incompetent as the
labourer, how can I be worthy of the hire?" It took him long to bring
out these words: his emotion increased his infirmity. Lady Montfort
listened with an exquisite respect visible in her compassion, and paused
long before she answered.

George Morley was the younger son of a country gentleman, with a good
estate settled upon the elder son. George's father had been an intimate
friend of his kinsman, the Marquess of Montfort (predece