Then she slipped back in the same wavering, timid manner to the kitchen, without another word. But Kate’s distress of mind was not due solely, as the woman believed, to her anxiety concerning the fate of her father. She had been debating in her heart whether she ought to continue her engagement with Bramber, and, perhaps, never had Kitty felt how truly she was “alone” as now, when she had satisfied herself that for his sake it were well for her to release him. She stood up, when her purpose was formed, and walked quietly, firmly, to the Rectory. One friend she had there, ever faithful’the parson. He knew that she was innocent, he alone could appreciate her difficulties, and he would approve her determination. She entered the study where he was at work on a sermon. He smiled, and his face brightened when he saw her, and he signed to a chair. Kate, direct, clear, and firm in all she said and did, told the rector of her intention. She informed him of what he knew already, that a body of feeling was engaged against her, that she was incapable of establishing her innocence. That, under the circumstances, it was out of the question her holding Walter Bramber to his promise. She had, furthermore, passed her word to her aunt not to leave her. Mr. Fielding, though disappointed, saw that under the circumstances nothing could be done; and he felt that Kate was acting honourably and in accordance with her conscience. He knew, therefore, he must not dissuade her from obedience to that inner voice. He took a more hopeful view than did she, and this he expressed. “If things change, then no harm has been done,” said Kate. “I have to say what is in my mind as made up on things as they are. Will you be so kind, sir, as to speak to Walter?” “I see him coming in at the gate,” said Mr. Fielding. “He is with me about this time every day for a Greek lesson’a bit of New Testament in the original tongue.” Kate stood up. “Yes,” said he. “You go to meet him at the mulberry tree.” The girl left quietly and composedly, as she had entered, and, crossing the lawn, came on the young man just as he reached the bench under the mulberry. “Walter,” she said, “I want a word with you. Have you a knife?” “Yes; why?” “Will you cut this in the mulberry bark? Mr. Fielding will not object’ ‘O Tree, defying time, witness bear, That two’”’ She hesitated, slightly coloured’ “‘That two friends met and parted here.’” “What do you mean, Kitty?” “Ask the rector’he will tell you all.” Then hastily, unable further to control herself, she passed him, and left the garden. CHAPTER XLVIII A SHADOW-SHAPE