"No: I try to lead," said the curate, "as a father might lead. I shall be sorry when the time comes for you to quit our pleasant old home, but if a good man and true comes and says, `I love your sister; give her me to wife'--" "If you cannot speak plain English, pray hold your tongue," cried Leo scornfully. "I should hold out my hands to him, and greet him as a new brother, Leo," said the curate solemnly; "but when I find that my young, innocent sister is being made the toy of a worthless, degraded--" "How dare you?" cried Leo, flashing out in her rage, while Mary went to her side, and laid her hand upon the trembling arm half raised. "I dare," said the curate gravely, "because I have right upon my side. I think--and Mary joins me in so thinking--" "Of course!" said Leo scornfully. "That Thomas Candlish is no fit companion for my sister. I have told you so, and to cease all further communication. I have told him so; forbidden him the house; and he has accepted my judgment." "Mr Candlish is a gentleman," cried Leo fiercely. "People call him so, and his brother by the same name, because of the old family property; but if they are gentlemen, thank Heaven I am a poor curate!" "Your conduct--" "Hush!" said the curate firmly. "We will say no more about this, Leo, my dear. You are angry without cause. I have acceded to your request for a fresh horse, so as to indulge you in your love of hunting, and at more cost than you imagine. I shall always be glad to do anything that I can to make my sisters happy; but I must be judge and master here, though I fear I am often very weak." "It is insufferable," cried Leo indignantly; and she raised quite a little whirlwind as she swept out of the room. The curate sighed, and sank back in his chair with his brow knit, till he felt a soft arm encircle his neck and a rounded cheek rest against his temple. "Ah!" he exclaimed; "that's better;" and he passed his arm round the graceful form. "This is very sad, Mary. But, there; we will not brood over it; difficulties often settle themselves." "Yes, Hartley." "But that Candlish business must not go on." "No, Hartley. It is impossible." She kissed his forehead, and the breakfast was finished in silence-- supposed to be finished. It had really ended when Leo Salis quitted the room. It was about an hour later that as the Reverend Hartley Salis was hard at work over his sermon, striving his best to keep out college lore, and to write in language that the Duke's Hampton villagers could easily understand, that he came to the sentence following-- "Now a man's duty, my friends--and a woman's"--he added parenthetically. "Now, what shall I tell them a man's duty is--and a woman's?" That required thought, and he laid down his pen, rose, and walked to the study window, to look out on the pleasant landscape; beautiful still, though not in the most goodly time of year.