He meant this for a little pleasantry--but he was an awkward man, even when he trifled. He hesitated. He was conscious that he had come for assistance in a matter quite as delicate as anything which appertained to Church government. "Miss Bayley." He cleared his throat. "I--I have an aunt." The abashed Miss Bayley signified that she had heard him mention that fact before--which she had, about half a dozen times a day. "She is not one of us." Miss Bayley sighed; she felt that she was expected to sigh. "She is of the world worldly. Her thoughts are fixed on temporalities. Being possessed of great riches, to which I am the natural heir, the continual desire of her life is that I--I should marry." The Rev. Alan stammered a little at the end. Miss Bayley perceptibly started. That was the continual desire of her life too. She wondered if it was going to be gratified at last. "That you should marry? Oh, Mr Macleod!" "I need not tell you that, in such a matter, her desire would not weigh with me in the least. The true priest is celibate." Miss Bayley's heart fluttered--she did not go with him so far as that. "But--if she were to disinherit you?" "Do you know me so little as that? Nothing would please me better than that she should." He clasped his hands in a kind of ecstasy. The lady, whose father was the parish doctor, and who knew what it was to have to dress on nothing a year, was almost tempted to think that the curate was a fool. But as she could scarcely express the thought aloud, she was wise enough to hold her peace. The gentleman went on rather awkwardly. The travelling was getting difficult, in fact. "To--eh--such lengths has--eh--she--she--allowed her desire to--eh--carry her, that--eh--it--it has resulted in--eh--involving me in--eh--complications of an excessively disagreeable kind." Miss Bayley's imagination realised the worst at once. "Are you engaged?" she cried. "She--she says I am." "She says you are!" The lady was on the verge of tears--the blow was sudden. "Mr Macleod, I have something which I have to do upstairs." She felt that if she stayed in the room she might disgrace herself by crying before his face. The Rev. Alan was dismayed at the idea of her leaving him. "Miss Bayley, I do entreat you not to go. You do not understand me in the least. _I_ do not say I am engaged; quite--quite the other way." "Oh, Mr Macleod!" The affair might have its comic side for a looker-on, but it was tragic enough for her. If she did not get this man, whom could she get? At Swaffham-on-Sea eligible bachelors were as rare as snow in summer. Besides--women attach themselves to poodle dogs!--she really liked the man. The curate continued: "The--the circumstances really are, I think, the most extraordinary I ever heard of. I should be almost induced to believe that it had all happened in a dream were it not for a letter that I have in my pocket." "From whom is the letter?" "From--from Miss Vesey."