There was a palpable sneer beneath the even politeness of his tone. He had taken out the whip–the whip which Wellfield’s own pleasant sins had knotted into a cord, and which his own weakness and vacillation had put into the other’s hand. The very first stroke had drawn blood. With a chest heaving convulsively, and a glitter in his eyes of anything but agreeable import, Wellfield clenched his hands behind him, and said, composing himself with an effort rendered efficacious by dire necessity. ‘I see what you mean, but I must think about it.’ ‘Yes, do,’ retorted his monitor, with a smile. ‘And I must return, or I shall receive a reprimand. Good-morning. I will stroll down to Monk’s Gate to-morrow evening. Shall I find you in?’ ‘I expect so,’ said Wellfield, sullenly. They parted. Somerville smiled as he took his way towards Brentwood. ‘He will come back,’ he thought. ‘He has gone too far. He cannot do without me ... and he is half won. Mrs. Latheby must flatter him, as she _can_ flatter for us and for her Church. He will come. I see him coming. And when he is married to Miss Bolton, of course she must learn the truth, or they might live in such harmony that my game would be spoiled.’ Somerville called early on the following evening, and it was during this visit that the arrangements were made for Avice’s return. Jerome was thankful for the suggestion. He dared not go to fetch her himself. He dared not face Sara. But one side of his character–his pride, we must call it, for want of a better name–the pride which did not prevent him from making love to one woman while solemnly engaged to another, pricked him sorely at the idea that Avice was receiving Sara’s kindness and living under her care. He did not know how he was to explain it, nor did he much care. He was getting callous, and reckless, and anxious only to find a way out of the coil. Somerville had received his orders suddenly, and was to set out almost immediately. Perhaps the visit of his Eminence had something to do with the matter. He had had a long conversation with Father Somerville, and had bestowed his blessing upon him before parting. Jerome accordingly wrote that letter to Sara, and on the following morning Somerville set out on his travels. [Illustration] CHAPTER II. A CONSUMMATION.