soon the air was full
of rumours which reached all ears but those of the two people most
concerned. A likely thing, if there is the smallest evidence in the
world for it, can easily get headway if nobody in authority can
contradict it.

All Wigfield said that Mr. Mortimer had "proposed" to Mrs. Walker, and
she had refused him. Brandon heard it with amazement, but could say
nothing; Miss Christie heard it with yet more; but she, too, held her
peace.

Johnnie Mortimer heard it, made furtive observations on his father, was
pleased to think that he was dull, restless, pale--remembered his own
letter to his sisters, and considered himself to be partly to blame.
Then the twins heard it, took counsel with Johnnie, believed it also,
were full of ruth and shame. "So dear papa loved Mrs. Walker, and she
would not marry him. There could only be one reason; she knew she had
nothing to expect but rebellion and rudeness and unkindness from them.
No, papa was not at all like himself; he often sighed, and he looked as
if his head ached. They had seen in the paper that he had lost a
quantity of money by some shares and things; but they didn't think he
cared about that, for he gave them a sovereign the next day to buy a
birthday present for Janie. Father must not be made miserable on their
account. What had they better do?"

Emily, in the meantime, felt her heart faint; this new trouble going
down to the deepest part of her heart, woke up and raised again the
half-appeased want and sorrow. Again she dreamed that she was folding
her little child in her arms, and woke to find them empty. She could not
stand against this, and decided, in sheer desperation, to quit the
field. She would go on the Continent to Justina; rest and change would
help her, and she would send back the ring, when all was arranged, by
Aunt Christie.

She was still at her desk, having at last managed to write the note.

She was to start the next morning. Miss Christie was then on her way to
John Mortimer with the ring, and tired with her own trouble and
indecision, she was resting in a careless attitude when she heard a
knock at the door.

"That tiresome _boy_ again," she disrespectfully murmured, rousing up a
little, and a half smile stealing out. "What am I to do with him?" She
thought it was the new curate. "Why, Johnnie, is that you?" she
exclaimed as Johnnie Mortimer produced himself in all his youthful
awkwardness, and advanced, looking a good deal abashed