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"I see what you have gone through," he said, with emotion; "and you would not let me help you!" Meynell smiled faintly. "I knew you wished to help me but " Then his voice dropped, and the Bishop would not have pressed him for the world. They fell upon the anonymous letters, a comparatively safe topic, and the relation of Barron to them.
My business to-day," he continued, slowly "concerns a woman, formerly of this village, whom I happened by a strange accident to see just after her return to it " "You are speaking of Judith Sabin?" interrupted Meynell. "I am. You were of course aware that I had seen her?" "Naturally from the inquest. Well?" The quiet, interrogative tone seemed to Barron an impertinence.
As the two men passed Barron made a mechanical sign of recognition. Meynell lifted his head and looked at him full. It was a strange look, intent and piercing, charged with the personality of the man behind it. Barron passed on, quivering. He felt that he hated Meynell. The disguise of a public motive dropped away; and he knew that he hated him personally.
Roddy first growled, and then, as soon as he recognized Meynell, wagged his tail. Philip, with a swaying step, advanced toward the newcomer, cigar in hand. "How do you do, Richard! It is not often you honour me with a visit." For a moment Meynell looked from one to the other in silence.
I have discovered the burial-place of Samuel Meynell, after no end of trouble, the details of which I needn't bore you with, since you are now pretty well up in that sort of work. I am thankful to say I have secured the evidence that settles for Samuel, and ascertained by tradition that he died unmarried.
The newcomer turned out various French and German books from a dilapidated armchair, and obeyed. He was a fresh-coloured, handsome youth, some fifteen years younger than Meynell, the typical public-school boy in appearance. But his expression was scarcely less harassed than the Rector's. "I expect you have heard from my father," he said abruptly.
Meynell did not venture to go again to his lodgings: he changed his dress at the house of an acquaintance, and, warned by his narrow escape, determined at once to leave England. He wandered along by the wharves, making inquiries about any vessels that were to sail immediately, little caring what their destination might be.
But as Meynell met the sensitive melancholy of his look the Rector remembered that during the preceding year Dornal had lost a little son, a delicate, gifted child, to whom he had been peculiarly attached. And Meynell's quick imagination realized in a moment the haunted imagination of the other the dear ghost that lived there and the hopes that grouped themselves about it.
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.
"Shall I tell her also, that you love her? and you want her love?" "Aye," said Bateson, nodding, with the same bright stare into Meynell's eyes. "Aye!" Meynell made him drink a little more brandy, and then he went out to the person standing motionless on the stairs. "What did you want, sir?" said Mrs. Bateson, under her breath. "Mrs. Bateson he begs you to come to him!
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