"I can't deny that it's a great blow to me. I confess I thought that time and patience on my part might induce Miss Clibborn to change her mind. But if she's happy, I cannot complain. I must bear my misfortune with resignation." "But will she be happy?" asked Mrs. Jackson, with foreboding in her voice. "I sincerely hope so. Anyhow, I think it my duty to go to Captain Parsons and offer him my congratulations." "Will you do that, Mr. Dryland?" cried Mrs. Jackson. "That is noble of you!" "If you'd like to take your holiday now, Dryland," said the Vicar, "I daresay we can manage it." "Oh, no, thanks; I'm not the man to desert from the field of battle." Mrs. Jackson sighed. "Things never come right in this world. That's what I always say; the clergy are continually doing deeds of heroism which the world never hears anything about." The curate went to Primpton House and inquired whether he might see Captain Parsons. "I'll go and ask if he's well enough," answered the Colonel, with his admirable respect for the cloth. "Do you think he wants to talk to me about my soul?" asked James, smiling. "I don't know; but I think you'd better see him." "Very well." Mr. Dryland came forward and shook hands with James in an ecclesiastical and suave manner, trying to be dignified, as behoved a rejected lover in the presence of his rival, and at the same time cordial, as befitted a Christian who could bear no malice. "Captain Parsons, you will not be unaware that I asked Miss Clibborn to be my wife?" "The fact was fairly generally known in the village," replied James, trying to restrain a smile. Mr. Dryland blushed. "I was annoyed at the publicity which the circumstance obtained. The worst of these little places is that people will talk." "It was a very noble deed," said James gravely, repeating the common opinion. "Not at all," answered the curate, with characteristic modesty. "But since it was not to be, since Miss Clibborn's choice has fallen on you, I think it my duty to inform you of my hearty goodwill. I wish, in short, to offer you again my sincerest congratulations." "I'm sure that's very kind of you." * * * Two days, later Mrs. Jackson called on a similar errand. She tripped up to James and frankly held out her hand, neatly encased as ever in a shining black kid glove. "Captain Parsons, let us shake hands, and let bygones be bygones. You have taken my advice, and if, in the heat of the moment, we both said things which we regret, after all, we're only human." "Surely, Mrs. Jackson, I was moderation itself?--even when you told me I should infallibly go to Hell." "You were extremely irritating," said the Vicar's lady, smiling, "but I forgive you. After all, you paid more attention to what I said than I expected you would." "It must be very satisfactory for you to think that."