And such was the general impression throughout the district. Men met in the small public-houses and over their mugs of beer discussed the possibilities of emigrating to Canada or New Zealand, for--"there'll be no more farm work worth doin' round 'ere"--they all declared--"Mister Jocelyn wanted MEN, an' paid 'em well for workin' LIKE men!--but it'll all be machines now." Meanwhile, the Reverend Mr. Medwin, M.A., had arrived at Briar Farm. Everything was curiously silent. All the blinds were down--the stable-doors were closed, and the stable-yard was empty. The sunlight swept in broad slanting rays over the brilliant flower-beds which were now at their gayest and best,--the doves lay sleeping on the roofs of sheds and barns as though mesmerised and forbidden to fly. A marked loneliness clouded the peaceful beauty of the place--a loneliness that made itself seen and felt by even the most casual visitor. With a somewhat hesitating hand Mr. Medwin pulled the door-bell. In a minute or two a maid answered the summons--her eyes were red with weeping. At sight of the clergyman she looked surprised and a little frightened. "How is Miss--Miss Jocelyn?" he enquired, softly--"I have only just heard the sad news--" "She's not able to see anyone, sir," replied the maid, tremulously--"at least I don't think so--I'll ask. She's very upset--" "Of course, of course!" said Mr. Medwin, soothingly--"I quite understand! Please say I called! Mr. Clifford--" A figure stepped out from the interior darkness of the shadowed hall towards him. "I am here," said Robin, gently--"Did you wish to speak to me? This is a house of heavy mourning to-day!" The young man's voice shook,--he was deadly pale, and there was a strained look in his eyes of unshed tears. Mr. Medwin was conscious of nervous embarrassment. "Indeed, indeed I know it is!" he murmured--"I feel for you most profoundly! So sudden a shock too!--I--I thought that perhaps Miss Jocelyn--a young girl struck by her first great loss and sorrow, might like to see me--" Robin Clifford looked at him in silence for a moment. The consolations of the Church! Would they mean anything to Innocent? He wondered. "I will ask her," he said at last, abruptly--"Will you step inside?" Mr. Medwin accepted the suggestion, taking off his hat as he crossed the threshold, and soon found himself in the quaint sitting-room where, but two days since, Hugo Jocelyn had told Innocent all her true history. He could not help being impressed by its old-world peace and beauty, furnished as it was in perfect taste, with its window-outlook on a paradise of happy flowers rejoicing in the sunlight. The fragrance of sweet lavender scented the air, and a big china bowl of roses in the centre of the table gave a touch of tender brightness to the old oak panelling on the walls.