Of all her surroundings the one who was most conscious of this was the Rector, who, getting no satisfaction, as he said, from his son, came out to Mount himself one of those wintry mornings to question Anne in person. ‘What have they settled?’ he had asked confidently, as soon as the Curate returned from the station where he had been seeing his friend off. ‘I don’t think they have settled anything, sir,’ said Charley, turning his back upon his father, not caring to betray more than was needful of his own feelings. ‘They are all going off to London--that is the only thing that seems to be decided.’ ‘God bless my soul!’ cried the Rector--which benediction was the good man’s oath; ‘but that has nothing to do with it. I want to know what is settled about Anne.’ Then poor Charley, out of the excess of his devotion and dissatisfaction, made a stand for his friend. ‘You know, sir, what a struggle a young barrister has to do anything,’ he said; ‘how can they--settle, when all the money is gone?’ ‘God bless my soul!’ the Rector said again; and after many thoughts he set off to Mount expressly to have it out, as he said, with Anne herself. He found her in the library, arranging with old Saymore what books were to be packed to take away, while Heathcote Mountford, looking very black and gloomy, sat at the further window pretending to read, and biting his nails furiously. The mild old Rector wondered for a moment what that sullen figure should have to do in the background, and why Heathcote did not go and leave his cousins free: but there was no time then to think of Heathcote. ‘So you are really going,’ the Rector said, ‘the whole family? It is very early days.’ ‘Mamma thinks it will be better to make the change at once. She thinks it will do her good, and Rose----’ The Rector fidgeted about the room, pulling out one here and there of a long line of books, and pretending to inspect it. Then he said abruptly, ‘The fact was I wanted to speak to you, Anne.’ Heathcote Mountford was sitting some way off, and Mr. Ashley’s voice was a gentle one--but he stirred immediately. ‘If I am in the way----’ he said, getting up. Of course he was in the way; but his faculties must have been very sharp, and his attention very closely fixed on what was going on, to hear those words. The good Rector murmured some apology; but Heathcote strolled away carrying his book in his hand. It was not so easy to get rid of old Saymore, who had a thousand questions to ask; but he, too, went at last. ‘No, we are not taking all the books,’ said Anne, ‘we are taking scarcely anything. My cousin Heathcote does not wish to refurnish the house at present, and as we do not know what we may do eventually, mamma prefers to leave everything. It is a mutual convenience. In this way we may come back in summer, when I hope you will be glad to see us,’ she added with a smile.