Now Charlotte was no great favourite of that gentleman's: nevertheless, being a gentleman, he answered her courteously as he shook hands. He believed Mrs. Hastings and Grace were out, he said, but Maria was at home. "I am moped to death!" exclaimed Charlotte, as she and Mr. Hastings entered the private gate to the Rectory garden. "Mrs. Verrall is gone to London, and there am I! I came out intending to go the round of the town until I could find some good Samaritan or other who would take compassion on me, and let me stay an hour or two with them." Mr. Hastings gave no particular reply. He did not make for the side door of the house, his usual entrance from the church, but turned towards the front, that he might usher in Charlotte in state. This took them by the windows of the drawing-room: and there they saw--what has been recorded. Mr. Hastings, in his astonishment, halted: Charlotte halted also, as you may be very sure. George was the first to see them, and a word of anger broke from his lips. Maria hastily raised her head from its resting-place--and felt almost as if she should die. To be seen thus by Charlotte Pain was bad enough: but by her strict father! Her face grew white. George Godolphin saw the signs. "My darling, only be calm! Leave all to me." That an explanation was forced upon him somewhat prematurely, was undoubted. But it was no unwelcome explanation. Nay, in the second moment, he was deeming it the very best thing that could have happened: for certain visions of taking Maria with him into exile had crossed his brain lately. He would try hard now to get them realized. It is true he would have preferred, all things considered, not to speak before Miss Charlotte Pain: but necessity, as you know, has no law. The Rector came in at the door: Charlotte following. "Mr. George Godolphin!" he frigidly began; but George interrupted what he would have further said. "I beg your pardon, sir," he said, taking a step forward; "allow me one word of explanation before you cast blame on me. I was asking your daughter to be my wife. Will you give her to me?" Mr. Hastings looked as a man confounded. That he was intensely surprised at the words was evident: perhaps he half doubted whether Mr. George Godolphin was playing with him. He cast a severe glance at Maria. George had taken her on his arm, and she stood there shrinking, her head drooping; her eyelashes resting on her white cheek. As for Charlotte Pain? well, you should have seen her. Ah no, there was no deception. George was in true earnest, and Mr. Hastings saw that he was. His eyes were fixed beseechingly on those of Mr. Hastings, and emotion had brought the hectic to his wasted cheek.