She looked at me again for a moment; "I can't tell you what it is--I don't know--I want you to come with me to the rectory; but, my dear," she continued, her "sense of propriety" coming to her aid, even in the midst of her agitation, "had you not better go back and get your bonnet? it is not becoming to walk so far in such a dress." "No one will see me," I said briefly; "but what am I to do at the rectory--can you not tell me here?" "It is not I, Mrs. Southcote," said Miss Saville, with suppressed agitation; "I told you once before that we had trouble in our family, and that there was one among us who gave great sorrow to William and me; but you did not mind my story, for you were like other young people, and thought no trouble so bad as your own. But my poor brother Richard is back again here, and he has not improved his ways, and he is always raving about you. He says he wants to see you. We won't let him go up to Cottiswoode, for when he sees Mr. Southcote I know he constantly seeks money from him, and we cannot bear that; so to pacify him, I promised to come out to-day, and try to persuade you to come to the rectory with me. Now, my dear, will you do it! You would not speak to him before, and I could not blame you; but he speaks as if something lay upon his conscience--oh, Mrs. Southcote, will you see him and hear what it is?" "If you wish it, I will go," said I; "I do not want to hear anything he has got to say myself; but if it will please you, Miss Saville--I know you must have thought me very heartless once--if it pleases you, I will go." She said, "thank you, my dear," breathlessly, and hurried me on--though, even now, not without a lament for my bonnet. As we came near, I saw once more the face of the Rector peering out from the corner window. Miss Saville saw it too, and burst into a hurried involuntary recital of their troubles. "William is miserable!" she cried with excitement, "you don't know what William is, all you people who look at the appearance, and not at the heart--he is the best brother--the kindest friend!--and now, when he had come to the station he was entitled to, and was in the way of doing his duty and being respected as he deserves, here comes Richard to wring our hearts and expose us to disgrace!--If we had money to give him he would not stay long with us, but William would rather sacrifice everything in the world than refuse a kind home to his brother--and then he is taking care of him--and the rector's study smelling of brandy and water, and bits of cigars upon his mantel-shelf and his writing-table--and he as patient as an angel--oh, Mrs. Southcote, it's very hard!"