Raston smiled. He knew perfectly well what she meant. Failing the wealthy Pratt, who had been proved a scoundrel, the humble curate had a chance of becoming Mrs Bathurst's son-in-law. And Raston was not unwilling. He loved Peggy and she loved him. They understood one another, and had done so for some time. Never would Peggy have married Pratt had he asked her a dozen times. But, as she had told Raston, the man had never intended to propose. Knowing this, Raston was glad to see that Mrs Bathurst was not disinclined to accept him as a suitor for her daughter. He then and there struck the iron while it was hot. "I do not know if I am a very good man, Mrs Bathurst," he said, still smiling, "but if you think me good enough for Peggy, I shall be more than satisfied. I have the curacy and three hundred a year. My family you know all about, and I suppose you have formed your own conclusions as to the merits of my personality. I am not likely to turn out a criminal like Pratt, you know." "Really, Mr Raston, you take my breath away," said Mrs Bathurst, quite equal to the occasion. "I never suspected that you loved Peggy. Still, if such is the case, and she loves you, and you are prepared to insure your life in case you die unexpectedly, I do not mind your marrying her. She is a dear girl and will make you an excellent wife." "Thank you, Mrs Bathurst. Then I may see Peggy now." "She is in the garden, Harold." Mrs Bathurst had long since informed herself of the curate's Christian name, so as to be prepared for an emergency of this sort. "Go to her and take with you a mother's blessing." Thus burdened, Raston sought out Peggy, and then and there told her that all was well. They could love one another without let or hindrance. The engagement had been sanctioned officially by Mrs Bathurst. Peggy laughed consumedly when Raston related the pretty little comedy played by her mother. "She must think you a donkey, Harold," she said. "Mother thinks everyone is as blind as herself." "Mrs Bathurst fancies herself very wide awake, my dear." "Those who are particularly blind always do, Harold." Then they began to talk of their future, of the probability of Sybil becoming the wife of Leo, and the chances of Mrs Gabriel taking the young man again to her castle. From one subject to another they passed on until Peggy made an observation about Pearl. "She is out and about, I see," said Peggy, "but she still looks thin." "And no wonder. Her illness has been a severe one. But she will soon put on flesh and regain her colour. She is always wandering on the moor, and the winds there will do more to restore her to health than all the drugs in the pharmacopoeia of James." "Why does she go on the moor?" said Peggy. "I thought it was the chapel she was fond of sitting in."