He kept his promise and rode over to Eagles ten days later, to pay Ruth a visit. He found her astonishingly cheerful. The sum left by Sir Oliver for her stewardship had scared her at first. It scared her worse to discover how the heap began to drain away as through a sieve. But slowly she saw her way to stop some of the holes in that sieve. He had calculated her expenses, taking for basis the accounts of the past few months; and in the matter of entertaining, for example, she would save vast sums. . . . She foresaw herself a miser almost, to earn his praise. "_--Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband shall safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the days of his life_." "_She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands. She is like the merchants's ships; she bringeth her food from afar. She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her household. . . . She considereth a field and buyeth it. . . . She looketh well into the ways of her household_." "_Her children rise up, and call her blessed. . . ._" Her children? But she had let him go, after all, without telling her secret. Mr. Langton sat and balanced a malacca cane in his hand. When his man announced the Reverend Mr. Silk, he laid it down carefully on the floor beside him. "Show Mr. Silk up, if you please." Mr. Silk entered with an affable smile. "Ah, good-morning, Mr. Langton!" said he, depositing his hat on the table and pulling off a pair of thick woollen gloves. "I am prompt on your call, eh? But this cold weather invites a man to walk briskly. Not to mention," he added, with an effort at facetiousness, "that when Mr. Langton sends for a clergyman his need is presumably urgent." "It is," said Mr. Langton, seemingly blind to the hand he proferred. "Would you, before taking a seat, oblige me by throwing a log on the fire? . . . Thank you--the weather is raw, as you say." "Urgent? But not serious, I hope?" "Both. Sit down, please. . . . I am, as you know, a particular friend of Sir Oliver Vyell's." "Say, rather, his best." Mr. Silk bowed and smiled. "Possibly. At all events so close a friend that, being absent, he gives me the right to resent any dishonouring suspicion that touches him--or touches his lady. It comes to the same thing." Mr. Silk cocked his head sideways, like a bird considering a worm. "Does it?" he queried, after a slight pause. "Certainly. A rumour is current through Boston, touching Lady Vyell's virtue; or, at least, her conduct before marriage." "'Tis a censorious world, Mr. Langton." "Maybe; but let us avoid generalities, Mr. Silk. What grounds have you for imputing this misconduct to Lady Vyell?" "Me, sir?" cried Mr. Silk, startled out of his grammar.