to the truth of what she had said of Mr.
Plew; and, moreover, that in urging her
not to stay at home on his account, her
guardian was providing against her being
a check on his full liberty to pass his
own time how and with whom he pleased.
Mr. Levincourt said no word about the
contents of the written paper Maud had
given him. And at the close of the above
recorded conversation he rose and took his
hat, as though about to go out according
to his custom after breakfast.

"Uncle Charles!" cried Maud, in a low,
pleading voice, "you have not said
anything—did you read the paper I gave you
last night?"

"Yes, oh yes, I read it, thank you, my
dear child. I— I was not wholly unprepared
to hear that the marriage would take
place so soon. In — my daughter's letter
to me — she said—justly enough—that there
was no real reason for a very long delay."

Then the vicar sauntered out of the house,
and down the long gravel walk, with as
unconcerned an air as he could assume.

"He seems not to care!" thought Maud,
with sorrowful wonder. " He seems to
care so much less than he did about every
thing!"

"Master was at Meggitt's last night,
Miss Maudie," said Joanna, as she cleared
away the breakfast things. This was not
her usual task. Catherine, the younger
maid, habitually performed it; and indeed,
Joanna very seldom now left her own
domain of the kitchen. But it seemed that
on this occasion she had come up-stairs
purposely to say those words to Maud.
"Yes, he were," she repeated doggedly,
provoked at Maud's silence, and changing the
form of her affirmation as though she
conceived emphasis to be in an inverse ratio
to grammar.

"Well, Joanna?"

"Oh, very well, of course, Miss Maudie.
It's all right enough, I dare say. Bless
your sweet face!" added the old woman,
with sudden compunction at her own
ill-humour, " I'm pleased and thankful as
you'll have a good husband to take care
of you, and a house of your own to go to,
my dearie. It was real pretty of you, to
tell old Joanna all about it when you came
back. 'Tis the best bit of news I've heard
this many a long day."

Catherine coming into the room at this
juncture (much surprised to see herself
forestalled in her duty), began with youthful
indiscretion to announce that she had just
seen Mrs. Meggitt at the "general shop";
and that Mrs. Meggitt was as high and saucy
as high and saucy could be ; and that folks
did say — She was, at this point,
ignominiously cut short by Joanna; who
demanded sternly what she meant by gossiping
open-mouthed before her betters. She
was further informed that some excuse
might be made for her ignorance, as not
having had the advantage of having lived
with " county families !" not but what she
might have picked up a little manners,
serving as she did, a real gentleman like
the vicar, and a real, right-down, thoroughbred
lady like Miss Maudie ! And was
finally sent down-stairs, somewhat indignant,
and very much astonished.

Maud was pained and puzzled by all this.
And her mind dwelt more and more on
the change she observed in her guardian.
There was only one person (always saving
and excepting Hugh! But then Hugh was
far away. And besides her great
endeavour was to make her letters to him
cheerful; and not to add to his cares),
there was but one to whom she could
venture to hint at this source of trouble.

The friend in whom she could unhesitatingly
confide with was Mrs. Sheardown;
and Maud longed for an opportunity of
talking with her. But here again, things
had become different during her more than
twelve months' absence from Shipley. The
vicar had withdrawn himself from the
Sheardowns, as he had withdrawn himself
from other friends and acquaintances. The
captain and his wife still came to St. Gildas,
but Joanna said it was nearly three months
since they had set foot within the vicarage;
and the master never went to Lowater.
Maud had seen her kind friends at church.
They had greeted her on leaving St. Gildas
with all their old warmth of affection; and
Mrs. Sheardown had said some word about
her coming to Lowater so soon as the vicar
could spare her. But they had not been to
the vicarage, nor had Maud thought it
right to offer to leave her guardian alone so
soon after her return. Now, however, she
yearned so much for the sweetness of Nelly
Sheardown's womanly sympathy, and the
support of Nelly Sheardown's womanly
sense, that she sent off a note to Lowater
House, asking what day she might go over
there, as she longed to see and speak with
its dear master and mistress. A reply came
back as quickly as it was possible for it to
come. This was the answer:

DARLING MAUD. How sweet of you not
to mistrust us! We have not been to see