The Rector got in very late, which, as everybody knows, is the drawback of that afternoon train. You get in so late that it is almost like a night journey; and he was not so early next morning as was common to him. There was no reason why he should be early. He sent a note to Anne as soon as he was up to ask her to see him privately, and about eleven o’clock sallied forth on his mission. Mr. Ashley had come to town not as a peacemaker, but, as it were, with a sword of indignation in his hand. He was half angry with the peaceful sunshine and the soft warmth of the morning. It was not yet hot in the shady streets, and little carts of flowers were being driven about, and all the vulgar sounds softened by the genial air. London was out of town, and there was an air of grateful languor about everything; few carriages about the street, but perpetual cabs loaded with luggage--pleasure and health for those who were going away, a little more room and rest for those who were remaining. But the Rector was not in a humour to see the best side of anything. He marched along angrily, encouraging himself to be remorseless, not to mind what Anne might say, but if she pleaded for her lover, if she clung to the fellow, determining to have no mercy upon her. The best of women were such fools in this respect. They would not be righted by their friends; they would prefer to suffer, and defend a worthless fellow, so to speak, to the last drop of their blood. But all the same, though the Rector was so angry and so determined, he was also a little afraid. He did not know how Anne would take his interference. She was not the sort of girl whom the oldest friend could dictate to--to whom he could say, ‘Do this,’ with any confidence that she would do it. His breath came quick and his heart beat now that the moment approached, but ‘There is nobody so near a father to her as I am,’ he said to himself, and this gave him courage. Anne received him in a little sitting-room which was reserved to herself. She was sitting there among her papers waiting for him, and when he entered came forward quickly, holding out her hands, with some anxiety in her face. ‘Something has happened?’ she said, she too with a little catching of her breath. ‘No--nothing, my dear, nothing to alarm you; I mean really nothing at all, Anne--only I wanted to speak to you----’ She put him into a comfortable chair, and drew her own close to him, smiling, though still a little pale. ‘Then it is all pleasure,’ she said, ‘if it is not to be pain. What a long time it is since I have seen you! but we are going to Hunston, where we shall be quite within reach. All the same you look anxious, dear Mr. Ashley--you were going to speak to me----’ ‘About your own affairs, my dear child,’ he said. ‘Ah!’ a flush came over her face, then she grew paler than before. ‘Now I know why you look so anxious,’ she said, with a faint smile. ‘If it is only about me, however, we will face it steadily, whatever it is----’