‘The lot is cast into the lap, but the whole disposing thereof is of the Lord,’ said the Vicar, solemnly. ‘We cannot choose our path in life, Cyril. Fate has not been kind to Kenrick. This is a heavy blow for both of us. For my own part, I feel as if I had lost a son. You and Kenrick have been as sons to me.’ ‘And to me he was like a brother,’ said Cyril. ‘We parted in unkindness. _That_ is a bitter thing to remember.’ ‘I do not think you can blame yourself, Cyril, because your cousin’s engagement ended unhappily.’ ‘I don’t know,’ said Cyril. ‘It is just possible I may have influenced Beatrix at the last.’ And then he told Mr. Dulcimer, as a good Catholic might tell his spiritual director, about that meeting in the churchyard. ‘I hardly know what I said,’ he confessed, remorsefully; ‘I was beside myself. I knew in that moment she still loved me, that I had never ceased to love her--that I had been mad--foolish--besotted when I doubted her. I knew all this, and that to-morrow was to make her my cousin’s wife. I know not what mad words I may have said to her--words wild and strong enough to constrain her to break with Kenrick.’ ‘I am not sure of that,’ said Mr. Dulcimer, thoughtfully. ‘I have a shrewd suspicion that Beatrix was meditating breaking off her engagement when she was so eager to redeem the Culverhouse mortgages. If she had meant to be his wife she might just as well have waited till they were married. But she was so impetuous, so determined. She bore down all opposition from Scratchell. Yes, I believe that she had made up her mind to jilt poor Kenrick, and that she meant the liberation of his estate as an atonement.’ This was some kind of consolation to Cyril, who thought of his cousin with a remorseful grief that was very real. And now, when those first days of mourning for the dead were over, he began to think of his own position, which was full of perplexity. Kenrick’s death had made him master of Culverhouse Castle. He had new ties, new duties. His first thought was to repay Miss Harefield the fifty thousand pounds. The lawyers had dawdled about the matter, Mr. Dulcimer had been careless, and Kenrick’s parting injunction had not been obeyed. Cyril went to Mr. Scratchell and told him that he should mortgage the estate directly it passed into his possession, and restore Miss Harefield’s money. ‘She meant it for my cousin Kenrick, and not for me,’ he said. ‘I should feel myself a thief if I retained the use of her money a day longer than I am obliged.’ It was agreed therefore that the money should be refunded as soon as Cyril found himself in a position to raise money upon his newly acquired estate. He was now Sir Cyril, an empty honour which he had no intention of parading among the simple people who only knew him as ‘the parson,’ and who might possibly think a baronet less approachable and sympathetic in their difficulties and griefs than plain ‘mister.’ CHAPTER XV. MR. PIPER ASSERTS HIMSELF.