I had said at dinner that day, in answer to Mr. Rayner’s inquiries, that I was not going to afternoon service, but I had not mentioned that I was going to the Vicarage. I felt sure that I should blush if I did, and then Mr. Rayner would guess my visit had something to do with Laurence; and I did not want to be teased any more. So, when five o’clock came, and I knew that service must be over, I put on my outdoor things, kissed Haidee, who was now awake, and slipped softly downstairs and out by the schoolroom window. I was not afraid of leaving that unfastened, now that Mr. Rayner had come back again. Mrs. Manners met me in the hall of the Vicarage, took me into the drawing-room, and gave me a packet of tracts, two or three of which had names lightly pencilled on them, as specially suitable to certain of the parishioners, as, “The Drunkard’s Warning”--Mrs. Nabbitts; “The Cost of a Ribbon”--Lizzie Mojer. These I was to deliver to Miss Maud Reade for distribution in her district this week. “Tell her to notice that I have marked some specially,” said Mrs. Manners, as she gave them to me; and I rather wondered how the persons they were directed to would take the attention. I thought that, in spite of her hatred of subterfuge, Mrs. Manners seemed to enjoy the little mystery which hung over my engagement. She kissed me very kindly as she sent me off, and told me I was to let her know when Sarah was well enough to be read to, and she would send something to be read which might do her good. I promised that I would; but I hope it was not impious of me to think, as I could not help thinking, that she was too wicked for any of Mrs. Manners’s good books to have much effect upon her. I went through the side-gate of the Vicarage garden, where I had run against Laurence on that happy evening which seemed so long ago, although in truth only eight days had passed since then, and my heart beat fast, and I walked slowly, for it seemed to me that Laurence must be coming round the corner again to meet me; but of course he did not; and I quickened my pace as I crossed the park to the Hall. The mist was growing very thick, although it was only a little past five; and I knew I must make haste back, or I might risk losing my way, short as the distance was between the Hall and the Alders. I rang the bell, and asked for Miss Maud Reade; and the servant who opened the door, and who, I felt sure, was the Williamson who was afraid of the blunderbuss, showed me into the drawing-room. There was no one there, for they were all at tea.