"Yes, it is. Your mother has a headache, and the air will do her good; and we want to call in for a minute on the Palmers." The carriage had come to a stand-still midway from the stables. There was a small seat behind for the groom, and William saw that it was open; when the groom did not attend them, it remained closed. Never lived there a man of less pretension than George Arkell; and the taking a servant with him for show would never have entered his imagination. They kept but this one man--he was groom, gardener, anything; his state-dress (in which he was attired now) being a long blue coat with brass buttons, drab breeches, and gaiters. "You are going to take Philip to-night?" observed William. "Yes; I shall want him to stay with the horse while we go in to the Palmers'. Heath Hall is a goodish step from the road, you know." "I will tell my mother that the carriage is ready," said William, turning into the house. But Mr. Arkell put up his finger with a detaining movement. "Stop a minute, William. Marmaduke Carr's visit this evening had reference to you. He came to complain." "To complain!--of me?" echoed William Arkell, his tone betraying his surprise. "What have I done to him?" "At least, it sounded very like a complaint to my ears," resumed the elder man; "and though he did not say he came purposely to prefer it, but introduced the subject in an incidental sort of manner, I am sure he did come to do it." "Well, what have I done?" repeated William, an amused expression mingling with the wonder on his face. "After conversing on other topics, he began speaking of his son, and that Hughes girl. He has come to the determination, he says, of putting a final stop to it, and he requests it as a particular favour that you won't mix yourself up in the matter and will cease from encouraging Robert in it." "_I!_" echoed William. "That's good. I don't encourage it." "Marmaduke Carr says you do encourage it. He tells me you were strolling with the girl and Robert last Sunday afternoon in the fields on the other side the water. I confess I was surprised to hear this, William." William Arkell raised his honest eyes, so clear and truthful, straight to the face of his father. "How things may be distorted!" he exclaimed. "Do you remember, sir, my mother asked me, as we left the cathedral after service, to go and inquire whether there was any change for the better in Mrs. Pembroke?" "I remember it quite well." "Well, I went. Coming back, I chose the field way, and I had no sooner got into the first field, than I overtook Robert Carr and Martha Ann Hughes. I walked with him through the fields until we came to the bridge, and then I came on alone. Much 'encouragement' there was in that!" "It was countenancing the thing, at any rate, if not encouraging it," remarked Mr. Arkell. "There's no harm in it; none at all." "Do you mean in the affair itself, or in your having so far lent yourself to it?"