"Well, it is useless discussing the matter further at present," was the decisive rejoinder. "But mark my words. Never--never, I say--while I can prevent it, shall Roland bring into this house a daughter of that despicable popish renegade. So he can act as he thinks fit. My mind is made up." CHAPTER FOURTEEN. "THE BAN OF CRAUNSTON." "Well, Miss Ingelow. All alone and wrapped in meditation! Hope I haven't disturbed the solution of some knotty problem." "Oh, no, Mr Dorrien," answered Margaret gaily, turning away from the window. "I haven't been long back from evensong, and the only problem I was trying to solve was, what can have become of father. He ought to have been back by now. And it has set in wet, and he didn't take an umbrella." "He will be sure to borrow one, I should think. But are your sisters out in the rain, too?" "I'm afraid I can't answer for that, they're too far away," said Margaret, with a laugh. "They went up to London yesterday, to stay with an aunt of ours." "Went up to London? I had no idea of that," echoed Roland, with a momentary flash of surprise, strongly dashed with disappointment, crossing his face. "And do they make a long stay?" "About a fortnight or three weeks. Ah--there is father!" "Upon my word, Dorrien," began the rector, as Roy unceremoniously pushed past him while entering, "I must again impress upon you the slur you cast upon my hospitable gates by leaving this chap outside the same. Now, Roy, old man, make yourself at home." "No fear of his not doing that," laughed Roy's master, as the dog deliberately curled himself up on the softest rug in the room. "But he was rather wet, so I thought he'd better wait outside." "Father, go at once and change your cassock," interrupted Margaret. "It's wet through." "Not a bit of it," replied the rector, stooping to inspect his flowing skirt. "Brown lent me the very father of all ginghams. He buttonholed me in his dim, mysterious way, and said he hoped I wouldn't be above, etc, etc. I told him I should be more than glad to be beneath it, and accordingly came along the street under full sail and a complete shelter. Brown is the prince of opportune and considerate vergers. And now, Dorrien, don't hurry off. Stay and have a chop with us, and cheer an old man in his loneliness. My two youngest girls are away disporting themselves in the gay metropolis, so I can promise you a little less noise than usual. You've got your bicycle, I see, so you're independent." Roland accepted with pleasure. He and the rector were great friends, and he was quite upon the "dropping in" footing by this time. "Right. Margaret, take care of him for half an hour or so, during which period inexorable duty will keep your humble servant in his study chair." And the rector left the room, humming a bar or two of the old plainsong hymn, whose melody lingered in his mind fresh from the dimly lighted choir at the close of the evening office.