"Mr. Vincent is going to leave town again this afternoon," said his mother. "Tell your mistress that I shall be glad to have a little conversation with her after my son goes away--and you had better bring the sauce--but it would have saved you trouble and been more sensible, if you had put it on the tray in the first place. Oh, Arthur," cried his mother again, when she had seen the little maid fairly out--"do be a little prudent, my dear! When a minister lodges with one of his flock, he must think of appearances--and if it were only for my dear child's sake, Arthur! Susan must not be spoken of through our anxiety; oh, my child!--Where can she be?--Where can she be?" "Mother dear, you must keep up, or everything is lost!" cried Vincent, for the first time moved to the depths of his heart by that outcry of despair. He came to her and held her trembling hands, and laid his face upon them without any kiss or caress, that close clinging touch of itself expressing best the fellowship of their wretchedness. But Mrs. Vincent put her son away from her, when the door again bounced open. "My dear boy, here is the sauce, and you must eat your chop," she said, getting up and drawing forward a chair for him; her hands, which trembled so, grew steady as she put everything in order, cut the bread, and set his plate before him. "Oh, eat something, Arthur dear--you must, or you cannot go through it," said the widow, with her piteous smile. Then she sat down at the table by him in her defensive armour. The watchful eyes of "the flock" were all around spying upon the dreadful calamity which had overwhelmed them; at any moment the college companion whom Vincent had sent for might come in upon them in all the gaiety of his holiday. What they said had to be said with this consciousness--and the mother, in the depth of her suspense and terror, sat like a queen inspected on all sides, and with possible traitors round her, but resolute and self-commanding in her extremity, determined at least to be true to herself. "Arthur, can you think where to go?" she said, after a little interval, almost under her breath. "To London first," said Vincent--"to inquire after--_him_, curse him! don't say anything, mother--I am only a man after all. Then, according to the information I get.--God help us!--if I don't get back before another Sunday----"