Tom watched Catharine closely. He noted her eager, rapt attention, and that she did not recover herself till the voluntary was at an end. He went out after her; she met Mr. and Mrs. Cardew at the churchyard gates; he saw the excitement of all three, and he saw Catharine leave her friends at the Rectory, for they were evidently going to stay the night there. Mrs. Cardew went into the house first, but Catharine turned down Fosbrooke Street, a street which did not lead, save by a very roundabout way, to the Terrace. Presently Mr. Cardew came out and walked slowly down Rectory Lane. In those days it was hardly a thoroughfare. It ended at the river bank, and during daylight a boat was generally there, belonging to an old, superannuated boatman, who carried chance passengers over to the mill meadows and saved them a walk if they wanted to go that side of the town. A rough seat had been placed near the boat moorings for the convenience of the ferryman's customers. At this time in the evening the place was deserted. Tom followed Mr. Cardew, and presently overtook him. Mr. Cardew and he knew one another slightly, for there were few persons for miles round who did not know and then visit Mr. Furze's shop. "Good evening, Mr. Cardew." "Ah! Mr. Catchpole, is that you? What are you doing here?" "I have been to hear you preach, sir, and I thought I would have a stroll before I went home." "I thought I should like a stroll too." The two went on together, and sat down on the seat. The moon had just risen, nearly full, sending its rays obliquely across the water, and lighting up the footpath which went right and left along the river's edge. Mr. Cardew seemed disinclined to talk, was rather restless, and walked backwards and forwards by the bank. Tom reflected that he might be intruding, but there was something on his mind, and he did not leave. Mr. Cardew sat down again by his side. They both happened to be looking in the same direction eastwards at the same moment. "If that lady thinks to cross to-night," said Tom, "she's mistaken. I'd take her over myself, though it is Sunday, if the boat were not locked." "What lady?" asked Mr. Cardew--as if he were frightened, Tom thought. "The lady coming down there just against the willow." Mr. Cardew was short-sighted, and could not see her. He made as if he would go to meet her, but he stopped, returned, and remained standing. The figure approached, but before Tom could discern anything more than that it was a woman, it disappeared behind the hedge up the little bypath that cut off the corner into Rectory Lane. "She's gone," said Tom. "I suppose she was not coming here after all." "Which way has she gone?" asked Mr. Cardew, looking straight on the ground and scratching it with his stick. "Into the town." "I must be going, I think, Mr. Catchpole; good-night." "I'll walk with you as far as your door, sir. There's something I want to say to you."