"I suppose I ought not. These letters have to be answered; and I don't in the least know what to say. If there were some one whom I could consult. I am so at a loss where to turn. Mr. Kennedy—I am sure he would do anything in his power. But then he is not exactly businesslike. Dear aunt always says that he is not. Only last week she was so vexed because he forgot to acknowledge that subscription. And yet he is such a good man; and he does preach such beautiful comforting sermons! Still I am afraid he might not know what to advise about the lawyer's letter, and that is what I need most. Besides, dear aunt never quite likes Mrs. Kennedy. I am sure she would be vexed if any of our private affairs came before her. And Mr. Kennedy is so forgetful, poor dear man! He might repeat things to his wife—men so often do. That is the worst of being married." Sybella twiddled her ivory pen-handle in an aimless way, as she reviewed the situation. "Then there is Mr. Trevelyan. If only he were a different sort of man! It would seem so natural to turn to him—living in his Parish. Quite impossible, of course—dear aunt disapproving of his views as she does. And if there is one man I do dislike more than any other, it is Mr. Trevelyan! That manner is so unbearable. Of course, not going to his Church, one could not very well ask his help, even if dear aunt would approve. We have kept well aloof from the Trevelyans till now—happily. Besides, even if there were no other objections, he is a widower." A blush mantled in Miss Devereux' cheeks. "One has to be careful, especially in a place like Dulveriford. Everything is so talked about. People might say—but, of course, Mr. Trevelyan is out of the question . . . Then there is Dr. Ingram. He will come in presently, and I might get his advice—perhaps—but I am not sure. He is such a new acquaintance—and then he is so shy! If only our dear old Dr. Symonds were here, he would do anything in the world for me. Dr. Ingram is different. They say he is much cleverer than Dr. Symonds; but I can't quite make him out. One does not feel at one's ease with him, somehow. I should think he could be sarcastic. Besides, he is a widower too. So, of course, I have to be careful. It is extraordinary, the number of widowers in this neighbourhood—and rather tiresome! I do think clergymen and doctors ought not to be unmarried, for the sake of other people. It makes things so uncomfortable." Sybella, leant her cheek pensively on her hand. She was given to attitudinising in a mild fashion. A tap, twice repeated, was unheard; and the door opened. "If you please, Miss—" "Pearce! Yes; do you want anything?" "General Villiers desires to see you, Miss." Sybella started up in a flutter.