The Rector himself had taken Katherine there to show her some of his books. “It would be absurd to call them priceless,” he said, “for any chance might bring a set into the market, and then, of course, a price would be put upon them, varying according to the dealer’s knowledge and the demand; but they are rare, and for a poor man like me to have been able to get them at all is--well, I think that, with all modesty, it is a feather in my cap; I mean, to get them at a price within my means.” “It is only people who know that ever get bargains, I think,” Katherine said, in discharge of that barren duty of admiration and approval on subjects we do not understand, which makes us all responsible for many foolish speeches. Mr. Stanley’s fine taste was not quite pleased with the idea that his last acquisition was a bargain, but he let that pass. “Yes; I think that, without transgressing the limits of modesty, I may allow that to be the case. It holds in everything; those who know what a friend is attain to the best friends; those who can appreciate a noble woman----” “Oh!” said Katherine, a little startled, “that is carrying the principle perhaps too far. I was thinking of china, you know, and things of that sort--when you see an insignificant little pot which you would not give sixpence for, and suddenly a connoisseur comes in who puts down the sixpence in a great hurry and carries it off rejoicing--and you hear afterwards that it was priceless, too, though not, of course,” she added apologetically, “like your books.” “Quite true, quite true,” said the Rector blandly; “but I maintain my principle all the same, and the real prize sometimes stands unnoticed while some rubbish is chosen instead. I hope,” he added in a lower tone, “that you have good news from your sister, Miss Katherine, and at this season of peace and forgiveness that your father is thinking a little more kindly----” “My father says very little on the subject,” Katherine said. She knew what he did say, which nobody else did, and the recollection made her shiver. It was very concise, as the reader knows. “We must wait and hope--he has such excellent--perceptions,” said the Rector, stumbling a little for a word, “and so much--good sense--that I don’t doubt everything will come right.” Then he added, bending over her, “Do you think that I could be of any use?” He took her hand for a moment, half fatherly in his tender sympathy. “Could I help you, perhaps, to induce him----” “Oh, no, no!” cried Katherine, drawing her hand away; her alarm, however, was not for anything further that the Rector might say to herself, but in terror at the mere idea of anyone ever hearing what Mr. Tredgold said.