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Christina's mother assured him that she was the best daughter in the whole world, and would be a priceless treasure to the man who married her. Theobald echoed Mrs Allaby's sentiments with warmth, but still, though he visited the Rectory two or three times a week, besides coming over on Sundays he did not propose.
Another man was with him a sheepish, red-faced person, who peered curiously at the little procession as it passed about a hundred yards away. "Quite a family party!" said Maurice Barron with a laugh. In the late evening Meynell returned to the Rectory a wearied man, but with hours of occupation and correspondence still before him.
Celestina on this set to work once more on her bread and milk. She was too excited to feel hungry; her pale cheeks had each a bright spot of colour and her eyes were shining. It was the day on which she was to begin her lessons at the Rectory.
There are historic instances, of course: Glamys Castle and Spedlins Tower in Scotland, Peel Castle, Isle of Man, with its Maudhe Dhug, the gray lady of Rainham Hall, the headless horses of Caistor, the Wesley ghost of Epworth Rectory, and others.
In the breakfast-room at Knaresdean, the same day, and almost at the same hour, in which occurred the scene and conversation at the rectory recorded in our last chapter, sat Lord Vargrave and Caroline alone. The party had dispersed, as was usual, at noon. They heard at a distance the sounds of the billiard-balls.
I suppose you're chargin' me by the hour for goin' backwards." Thomas looked sheepish and scratched his head with his dirty fingers. "No, but I have to finish a little job I begun for Elias Warden on the hill. I'll be back again right away." "None of that, Thomas. You're goin' back to the rectory with me now, and if the job isn't finished by six o'clock, you'll never get your hands on it again."
That evening the two men sat at dinner in the rectory. It was a very fine rectory, beautifully furnished; for Owen was a man of taste which he had the means to gratify. Also, although they were alone, the dinner was good so good that the poor broken-down missionary, sipping his unaccustomed port, a vintage wine, sighed aloud in admiration and involuntary envy. "What is the matter?" asked Owen.
"It isn't nonsense at all," said Florence; "and if it were it would not signify. Is it true? That's the question." "I'm sure it's true," said Fanny. "And so am I," said Florence. "I don't want any one to tell me that." "Then why did you ask, you simpleton?" Florence indeed was having a happy time of it at Clavering rectory.
I was not interested in anything or anybody except one, and that one had gone out of my life. Night after night I went to sleep determining to forget and morning after morning I awoke only to remember, and with the same dull, hopeless heartache and longing. July passed, August was half gone. Still we remained at the rectory. Our lease was up on the first of October.
A minute or two later the old dog, who lived mysteriously in the back premises, barked, and presently the servant announced that a gentleman was desirous of speaking to the rector. There were not many gentlemen within a day's walk of the rectory. Some one must have put up at "The Black Sailor."
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