‘I should like to know what you are talking about,’ the other said, diving his hands into the depths of his pockets, and turning to the rain once more. ‘Would you? I don’t think it; and it’s no good naming names. Look here. Will you believe me if I say I never meant to interfere? I never found out what was in your mind till it was too late.’ ‘I don’t know that there is anything in my mind,’ Charley said. He was holding out with all his might: but the fibres of his heart were giving way, and the ice melting. To be sure, how should any one have found out? had it not been hidden away at the very bottom of his heart? Anne had never suspected it, how should Cosmo? He would not even turn his head to speak; but he was going, going! he felt it, and Douglas saw it. The offender got up, and laid his hand upon the shoulder of his wounded friend. ‘I’d rather have cut off my hand, or tugged out my heart, than wound you, Charley; but I never knew till it was too late.’ All this, perhaps, was not quite true; but it was true--enough. Douglas did not want to quarrel; he liked his faithful old retainer. A bird in the hand--that is always worth something, though perhaps not so much as is the worth of the two who are in the bush; and he is a foolish man who will turn away the certain advantage of friendship for the chance of love; anyhow, the address went entirely into the simple, if wounded, heart. ‘I didn’t mean to show I was vexed. I don’t know that I’m vexed--a man is not always in the same disposition,’ he said, but his voice was changing. Douglas patted him on the shoulder, and went back to his seat. ‘You needn’t envy me--much,’ said Douglas. ‘We don’t know what’s to come of it; the father won’t hear of me. He would have had nothing to say to you either, and think what a rumpus it would have made in the parish! And there’s the Rector to think of. Charley----’ ‘Perhaps you are right,’ Charley said, with a great heave of his shoulders. His pipe had gone out. As he spoke, he got up slowly, and came to the table to look for the matches. Cosmo lighted one, and held it out to him, looking on with interest while the solemn process of rekindling was gone through. Charley’s face, lighted by the fitful flame as he puffed, was still as solemn as if it had been a question of life and death; and Cosmo, looking on, kept his gravity too. When this act was accomplished, the curate in silence gripped his friend’s hand, and thus peace was made. Poor faithful soul; his heart was still as heavy as lead--but pain was possible, though strife was not possible. A load was taken off his honest breast. ‘I’ve seen it coming,’ he said, puffing harder than was needful. ‘I oughtn’t to have felt it so much. After all, why should I grumble? I never could have been the man.’ ‘You are a far better fellow than I am,’ cried the other, with a little burst of real feeling.