‘And who may this be now?’ said May, in a pettish and offended tone. He turned to the new speaker with a rapid change of front: but changed again as soon as he perceived what the new speaker was. He had known a great many chaplains in his time, and had never found them unmanageable. ‘I see you’re a clergyman,’ he said, in his usual mild tones: ‘and you have a good countenance,’ he added, approvingly. ‘There’s some little questions to settle between me and--my family. I don’t mind talking of our affairs with such a--with such a--respectable person. So long as no attempt is made on my personal freedom.’ He paused a little, and then laughed with his usual perception of the ludicrous. ‘I’m very choice over that,’ he said, ‘it’s been too much tampered with already.’ He looked from one to another as he spoke, with a faint expectation of some smile or response to his pleasantry: some sense of the humour of it in Susie’s deprecating anxious face or the stern misery of John. The want of that reply chilled him for a moment, but only for a moment. Then he stepped out briskly from between his irresponsive children. ‘Lead on--as Montressor would say--I’ll follow with my bosom bare--or at least with my heart open--which comes to the same thing, I suppose,’ he said. This transaction took place so rapidly that John, in his confused state, and even Susie, scarcely understood what was taking place till they found themselves alone, watching the two other figures going quickly and quietly along the street. To Susie it seemed as if in a moment everything had come right. Mr. Cattley carried off her anxieties with him, to be solved in what was sure to be the best way. She came close to John’s side and put her arm within his, supporting him with her confidence and certainty that all would now go well, supporting him even physically with the soft backing-up which he wanted so much. They stood together silent, watching the other two disappear along the street. How it was that John gave in so easily, and let the matter be taken out of his hands, no one ever knew; the secret was that he was worn out with misery and unrest. Body and soul had become incapable of further exertion, even of further suffering. The only solution possible to his strained nerves and strength was this--that some one else should do it for him. For he was incapable of anything more. CHAPTER XVI. THE GREAT SCHEME. And yet there was something for which the poor young fellow was capable still.