North said it was delightful, as he bent impressively over the extended hand, and gazed with something of a lover's rapture in the beautiful eyes that looked up into his; but there was no returning pressure of the hand; the look was merely pleasant and friendly, and, worn out with anxiety, sleeplessness, and watching, he could not help feeling a thirst for something more, if it were merely sympathy, instead of those calmly bland smiles and gently tolerant reception of his advances. "Why, Horace, old man, I did not hurt you with my banter?" said Salis, as they walked up towards the church. "Hurt me? No. I'm a little upset; that's all. Salis, old fellow, I'm not quite happy." "No?" said the curate inquiringly, as he looked sidewise at his friend's wrinkled face. "I seem to make no progress with Leo." "Is that so, or is it your fancy?" said the curate guardedly. "It is so. She seems to tolerate me. You notice it." "I notice that she is very quiet and thoughtful with you, but really that is a good sign." "You would like to see her my wife, Salis?" "If it were for your happiness and hers, I would gladly see you man and wife," said the curate warmly; "but don't be hasty, my dear fellow. It is for life, remember." "Remember? Oh, yes, I know all that," said North hastily. Salis extended his hand, which the other took. "Don't be offended with me, Horace, old friend. I wish to see you both happy." "I know it, I know it," said the doctor; and then catching; sight of Moredock in the churchyard, he hesitated, half nervous as to what Salis might have to say to the old man, but, convinced the next moment that his fears were without base, he hurriedly said a few words and went away. "I can't see it," said Salis bitterly. "They seem so thoroughly unsuited the one for the other. I wish it could have been so, for Leo's sake. Ah, well," he added, as he walked through the old gate, "time settles these things better than we can. Good morning, Moredock." "Mornin', sir--mornin'." "Is the vestry open?" "Yes, sir; door's open, sir. You can go through the church or round at the back. Through the church is best." "I prefer going round," said the curate gravely; and he went on round by the chancel, followed by the grim old sexton, who watched him furtively, and went up quite close, with his big yellow ears twitching, as Salis paused by the little path leading to the steps of the Candlish vault. "What's that?" he said. "Eh? What, sir?" said Moredock, hastily stepping before him to snatch up a pocket-handkerchief and crumple it in his hands. "Only a bit of white rag, sir. Blowed there from somebody's washing hung out to dry." "Nonsense!" said the curate sternly. "Give it to me." "Doctor's," said Moredock to himself. "The fool!" He handed the piece of linen unwillingly, and the curate took it, held it out, and turned to the corners, while the sexton's countenance lightened up.