Then, still standing in the porch, they went over it all again. He argued, entreated, cajoled, but her distress was so genuine, the conflict between her love and her duty so acute, that at last Coventry found himself willing, almost, to agree to an indefinite engagement, to the question of marriage being deferred till his next return from India. Finally he promised that if she would only give him permission to speak to her father he would press for no more than the vicar's consent to a wedding perhaps two years hence. They returned to the house through the rain, Coventry rueful, depressed, yet alive to the virtue of Rafella's decision--it was only in accordance with the pure perfection of her character. He had little hope of Mr. Forte being equally unselfish, of his refusing to accept his daughter's temporary sacrifice; two years to a man of his age would seem a trifling period, and, of course, apart from personal inconvenience, he would be all in favour of discreet delay, and the wisdom of waiting, the test of time on the affections, and so forth. Coventry was conscious that were he in the vicar's place, with a young and guileless daughter to consider, his own sentiments would be identical; therefore he ultimately sought his future father-in-law's presence in a meek and dutifully acquiescent spirit, not altogether free from nervousness. The vicar's mouldy sanctum was not quite the pleasant spot this afternoon that it had been on the occasion of Coventry's first visit; now the room was darkened by the rain, and the creepers, limp with moisture, clinging to the window. Mr. Forte himself looked dismal and depressed; he complained that the damp affected his throat and caused discomfort in his joints. He indicated with a weary gesture of his hand a pile of documents and ledgers connected with parish affairs, and some blank sheets of paper on which, owing to pressure of other business, his sermon for to-morrow had not yet been inscribed. He said he wished he could afford a curate, though to Coventry's consternation he affirmed that Rafella was as valuable to him as any curate could be, save in the matter of accounts and sermons. "A good girl, Captain Coventry, a very good girl!" He shook his head as though he were saddened rather than cheered by the fact of Rafella's worth; but it was merely, as Coventry understood, the vicar's manner of emphasising his appreciation. "Indeed, sir, she has no equal!" the younger man agreed with fervour. It seemed a rather inauspicious moment for declaring his request, but delay could make no difference, and he spoke out boldly, though with quickened pulses, confessing that he had already approached Rafella and had not been rejected. To his amazed relief Mr. Forte listened to him with benign attention. "I cannot pretend," he said, "that I have been altogether blind to your object in coming here, but before we go any farther there are one or two matters that must be discussed between us."