The curate looked up from his letter with a faint sigh, and pushed away the second egg which he had taken upon his plate unconsciously. "Cicely," he said, "this is a startling letter, though perhaps I might have been prepared for something of the kind. Mr. Chester's relations, my dear, write to say that they wish to sell off the furniture." Mr. St. John gave a glance round, and for a moment his heart failed him. "It is sudden; but it is best, I suppose, that we should be prepared." "It was to be expected," said Cicely, with a little gasp. She grew paler, but exerted all her power to keep all signs of emotion out of her face. "Sell the furniture?" said Mab, with a laugh. "Poor old things! But who will they find to buy them?" Mab did not think at all of the inevitable departure which must take place before Mr. Chester's mahogany could be carried away. "You will think it very weak," said poor Mr. St. John, "but I have been here so long that even the dispersion of the furniture will be something in the shape of a trial. It has seen so much. Of course, such a grievance is merely sentimental--but it affects one more than many greater things." "I did not know that you had been here so long," said Mildmay. "A long time--twenty years. That is a great slice out of one's life," said Mr. St. John. (He here thought better of a too hasty determination, and took back his egg.) "Almost all that has happened to me has happened here. Here I brought your mother home, my dears. Cicely is very like what her mother was; and here you were born, and here----" "Oh, papa, don't go on like that odious Jessica and her lover, 'On such a night!'" said Cicely, with a forced laugh. "I did not mean to go on, my dear," said the curate, half aggrieved, half submissive; and he finished his egg with a sigh. "But I wonder very much," said Mildmay, "if you will pardon me for saying so, why, when you have been here so long, you did not take some steps to secure the living. You must like the place, or you would not have stayed; and nobody would have been appointed over your head; it is impossible, if the circumstances had been known." "My dear sir," said the curate, with his kind smile, "you don't think I mean to imply any grudge against you? That would shut my mouth effectually. No, there are a great many reasons why I could not do anything. First, I did not know till a few days ago that the rector was dead; he should have sent me word. Then I have grown out of acquaintance with all my friends. I have not budged out of Brentburn, except now and then to town for a day, these twenty years; and, besides all this," he said, raising his head with simple grandeur, "I have never asked anything from anybody, and I hope I shall end my life so. A beggar for place or living I could never be."