The excellent gentleman had scarcely settled this delicate point with his conscience when he was intercepted by Mrs. Geary. The lady was in a high state of indignation, first at a death having actually been allowed to take place in a house where she was guest, secondly and especially at Lady Lochore having locked herself up in her own apartments and rudely denied her admittance. She now demanded instant means of departure for herself and her daughter; for her man and her maid. This the rector, with joy, promised to provide forthwith; and even suggested that the remaining gentlemen of the party might make use of the same conveyance with both pleasure and profit to all concerned. But even as he was congratulating himself upon an easy riddance of at least one difficulty, he was plunged into a far deeper state of perturbation by a most unexpected word: “Mr. Herrick has already gone,” sniffed Priscilla, who stood at her mother’s elbow. Her face was swollen with crying; she spoke in a small vindictive voice which drew the parson’s attention to her in mild surprise. Mrs. Geary tossed her head: “I am glad to hear it,” she remarked icily, “and I am surprised you should have suggested his accompanying us.” “My dear madam,” protested the rector, who found the look of meaning in the lady’s protuberant eye exceedingly discomforting. “My dear madam?” “After last night’s scandal,” said she in her deepest bass. “Last night’s scandal!” he echoed. “Hush!” she cried, “I will not have the innocence of my child further contaminated——” “Contaminated, madam!” “Contaminated, sir! Ask Mrs. Marvel, Dr. Tutterville! Ask your niece!” She brushed past, hustling Priscilla before her. “A most unpleasant female,” thought the parson, endeavouring to dismiss Mrs. Geary from his mind. But she had left a disturbing impression, which was presently to be heightened. In response to a message, courteous, but firm, informing him at what hour the chaise would await him, Mr. Villars next presented himself before the rector and interrupted him in the midst of some of his sad business details. “Sir?” said the parson, at the same time arresting by a gesture the withdrawing of the bailiff with whom he was then in consultation. “In what can I be of service?” “My dear Dr. Tutterville, I came to offer my services to you.” “You are vastly obliging, Mr. Villars. The best service friends can render a house of mourning is to leave it to itself.” “Sad business—sad business this! Deyvilish!” “Good-bye, sir, I trust you may have a pleasant journey. Good-bye.” “One word, dear and reverend sir. How is—how is Mrs. Marvel?” “Bearing up fairly well, I thank you.” “I am rejoiced. Rejoiced. After so many emotions! Ah, I was going to suggest that it might perhaps be of some advantage, some advantage, perhaps, to Mrs. Marvel, were I to defer my departure for a day or two. I would gladly do so if——”