"You pitched into the scoundrel, and you've given him the loveliest thrashing a man ever deserved. My dear Salis, you've done one of the grandest deeds of your life." "I'm a clergyman, and I've behaved like a blackguard." "Nonsense! There's only one drawback to what you have done." "What's that?" "Did it when I was not there to see the fun. Why, it's glorious." "I shall never forgive myself." "Then I'll forgive you. Why, you soft-hearted old parson, you know you cannot touch him and his rascal of a brother with words, and you know that they are the curses of the neighbourhood." "No reason for me to give way to temper, and degrade myself." "Degrade your grandmother, sir! You've treated them as the Irish priests treat their flocks. Metaphorically given Tom Candlish the stick. It was your duty, sir, and there's an end of it." "No; I'm afraid there's not an end to it. He threatens to go to May." "Bah!" "And to lay my conduct before the bishop." "And goes to bed and pretends his horse threw him. Get out, you old humbug; you'll never hear another word." "I, who wish to live at peace with all men, have made a deadly enemy." "Pooh! He's a wind-bag. You've taken the right course, and nipped that affair in the bud. Does Leo know of it?" "Yes." "And Mary?" "Not a word, so be careful--hist! some one coming." "May I come in?" said a sweet, musical voice. "Come in? Yes," said the young doctor, leaping up to throw open the door, and greet Mary Salis with a frank smile and so hearty a shake of the hand that she had hard work not to wince. "There, don't come nearer; I smell of London smoke and blacks. Thank goodness, I'm back home." "The place does not seem the same without you," said Mary, going behind her brother's chair, to stand with her hands resting upon his shoulders. "I don't know about the place, but I know I do not feel the same out of it. Must go sometimes, though, to pick up a few facts, or one would be left behind. Did you go to the house?" "Yes, and found Mrs Milt very busy." "Bless her! Nice game she has had, Salis. General clear up, and my study turned upside down. Seen old Moredock?" "Yes, went yesterday," said the curate. "The old mail was lying down, and fretting because you were away. Said he knew he should die before you returned." "Stuff. He'll live to a hundred; but I'll go and see the old boy. There, now you're laughing," he said, turning to Mary; "now, don't say Mrs Berens has been ill and wanted me." "Why not?" said Mary, with her pleasant face lighting up, and a slight flush coming into her soft cheeks. "I told you the place did not seem the same without you." "Mrs Berens met me twice, and sighed large sighs," said the curate, laughing. "Hah! I wish they'd all be as anxious about their souls as they are about their bodies." "And they're not, old fellow?" said the doctor. "No. I begin to wish you were out of the place, North, for you are my hated rival."