“I am not given to gossip,” he said, with a faint smile, “yet I had heard that they were much here, and had given their confidence to your family. I have not been so favoured myself,” he added, with a slight curl of disdain upon his handsome lip. “The youth I know nothing of, except that he has invariably repelled any friendship I could have shown him; but I feel a great interest in the young lady. Had my sister been in better health, we might have offered her an asylum, but that is impossible in our present circumstances. You are doubtless better acquainted with their prospects and intentions than I am. In case of the event which people begin to talk about, what does Lord Winterbourne intend they should do?” “We have not heard of any event--what is it?” cried Mrs Atheling, very anxiously. “I have no better information than common report,” said the Rector; “yet it is likely enough--and I see no reason to doubt; it is said that Lord Winterbourne is likely to marry again.” They all breathed more freely after this; and poor little Marian, who had been gazing at Mr Rivers with a blanched face and wide-open eyes, in terror of some calamity, drooped forward upon the table by which she was sitting, and hid her face in her hands with sudden relief. Was that all? “I was afraid you were about to tell us of some misfortune,” said Mrs Atheling. “It is no misfortune, of course; nor do I suppose they are like to be very jealous of a new claimant upon Lord Winterbourne’s affections,” said the Rector; “but it seems unlikely, under their peculiar and most unhappy circumstances, that they can remain at the Hall.” “Oh, mamma!” exclaimed Marian, in a half whisper, “he will be so very, _very_ glad to go away!” “What I mean,” resumed Mr Rivers, who by no means lost this, though he took no immediate notice of it--“what I wish is, that you would kindly undertake to let them know my very sincere wish to be of service to them. I cannot at all approve of the demeanour of the young man--yet there may be excuses for him. If I can assist them in any legitimate way, I beg you to assure them my best endeavours are at their service.” “Thank you, sir, thank you--thank you!” cried Mrs Atheling, faltering, and much moved. “God knows they have need of friends!” “I suppose so,” said the Rector; “it does not often happen--friends are woeful delusions in most cases--and indeed I have little hope of any man who does not stand alone.” “Yet you offer service,” said Agnes, unable quite to control her inclination to dispute his dogmatisms; “is not your opinion a contradiction to your kindness?” “I hold no opinions,” said the Rector haughtily, with, for the instant, a superb absurdity almost equal to Mr Endicott: he perceived it himself, however, immediately, reddened, flashed his fiery eyes with a half defiance upon his young questioner, and made an incomprehensible explanation.