"I told her she was mistaken," remarked the vicar; "but she was not convinced. She could not understand you and Podmore being out together by night. She thought it--girl-like--connected with some dreadful mystery. Master Brough thought it had to do with poaching; and I--" "Yes, sir," cried Maine eagerly. "Thought you were out for some good purpose, John Maine; and that if I let the matter rest, the explanation would come all in good time." "And so it has, sir," said John; "but you knew all about me, sir." "To be sure I did, John Maine; and seeing the life you now lead, respected you for it. It is a hard matter for a man brought up honestly to run a straight course, while for such as you, John Maine,--there, I need only say that you have wonderfully increased the respect I have for you by coming to me with this frank avowal. My letter to you was to give you the opportunity, for your own sake, so as to remove the suspicion that your movements were exciting. There, I am proud to shake hands with a man possessed of such a love of the reputable as to fight the good fight as you have fought it; and of such command over self, as to make the confession you have made to-day." He stretched out his hand as he spoke, and John Maine wrung it in his-- two strong palms meeting in a hearty grip for a few moments, while neither spoke. Then John Maine turned away, and stood looking out of the window for a few moments. "You've made me feel like a great girl, sir," he said at last, huskily. "I've made you feel like a true man, John Maine," replied the vicar, "one without the false shame of custom about him." "Thanky, sir, thanky," said the young fellow, recovering himself. "As to that night work, sir," he continued, with a quiet smile, "that's easily explained. I suspected those scoundrels, after seeing them hanging about the vicarage here, of meaning to have some of your silver cups." "And you watched the place by night, Maine?" said the vicar, eagerly. "Well, sir, I did," replied the young man, "till Miss Jessie warned me about how my place there at the farm depended on my not going out o' nights, and then I put Tom Podmore on to the job." "And has he watched ever since?" "Oh, yes, sir; you may depend on that--every night. Tom's a trusty fellow, and when he takes to a man he'll go through fire and water to serve him. He'd do anything for you, sir." The vicar said nothing, but his eyes looked a little dim for a few moments, and he drew in a long breath. "And now, sir, I think I do bring you news," said Maine. "Indeed?" "Yes, sir. If I'm not very much mistook they mean to rob this place to-night." "You think so?" said the vicar, with his eyes sparkling; for here was what he had desired--something to call forth his energy, and serve to drown the thoughts that, in spite of his power over self, nearly drove him mad.