“Mrs Berens met me twice, and sighed large sighs,” said the curate, laughing. “Hah! I wish they’d all be as anxious about their souls as they are about their bodies.”
“And they’re not, old fellow?” said the doctor.
“No. I begin to wish you were out of the place, North, for you are my hated rival.”
“Hartley!” said Mary reprovingly.
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the doctor. “Jealous. Never mind, old fellow. It’ll all come right in the end. There, can’t stop. I’ve no end to do.”
“But how did you get on in London?”
“Splendidly. Horribly. No end of adventures. Tell you all about it when I come again. Must see patients now. Must wind up old Moredock, and set him going again, or no bells, no clock, and no ‘Amens’ on Sunday.”
“Well, we could do without the last,” said the curate, smiling. “Going to see Mrs Berens?”
The doctor made a comical grimace.
“Must,” he said; “but, ’pon my word, I always feel ashamed to charge for my visits. She’s as well as you are, Miss Salis.”
“But she’s always better when you’ve been to feel her pulse,” said the curate, laughing.
“Get out!” cried the doctor merrily.
“I say, North, don’t be shabby.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t slip off, and be married in London. Have it here, and let me get my fees.”
“Now, beware,” said the doctor, shaking his fist playfully. “I never have slain a man wilfully; but if you tempt me there’s no knowing what I may do when I have you stretched helpless in bed.”
“I defy you,” cried the curate, laughing. “See how guilty he looks, Mary.”
“Hartley!” said Mary reprovingly, and she pressed his shoulder.
“Now that proves it,” said the doctor. “Go to, thou miserable impostor! Have I not seen the fair, plump, sweet widow smiling softly on thee? Have not I heard her sigh over her soup when you have been laying down the law at dinner?”
“Nonsense, nonsense!” said the curate, frowning.
“And have I not seen her look grave when you came to firstly in your Sunday sermon; take out her scent-bottle at secondly; lean back in rapt adoration at thirdly; and when it got to ninthly begin to shed tears, shake her head softly, and look as if she were mentally saying, ‘Oh, what a sermon we have had.’”
“I say, North, don’t banter,” said the curate, with a half-vexed expression.
“Why, you hit me first. Didn’t he, Miss Salis?”
Mary nodded.
“There, sir. Judged by our fair Portia herself. But I must go. Good-bye, old fellow. Chess to-night?”
“By all means,” said the curate.
“Here or there?”
“Oh, come on here,” cried the curate; and, with a kindly message for Leo and a hearty shake of the hand to each, the doctor hurried away.
“I am glad he’s back,” said the curate seriously. “Aren’t you, Mary?”
“Very,” she replied. “We miss our friends.”
“Yes, and he is a good old fellow as ever stepped; so frank, so manly, and straightforward. I don’t know what the poor people here would do if he were to leave.”
“You don’t think he will leave?” said Mary anxiously.
“Leave? Not he. He likes his old home too well. I say, though, seriously, dear, you don’t think he cares for Mrs Berens?”
“Oh, no, Hartley,” said Mary, with a confident smile. “I am sure he thinks of nothing but his profession.”
“Exactly. I often think the same, but I often wish something.”
“What, dear?” said Mary earnestly.
“That he had taken a fancy to Leo. It would have been a happy day for me to have seen her with such a protector for life.”
“Yes,” said Mary softly. “He is a true gentleman at heart.”
“Why, Mary,” cried the curate enthusiastically, “he never takes a penny of any of the poor folk, and he works for them like a slave. The nights I’ve known him pass at a sick bedside. Well, thank God, we have such a man here.”
“Amen,” said Mary softly.
“There’s Leo,” said the curate, as she was seen to pass down one of the paths of the garden. “Mary, my child, if that could be brought about, it would be her saving, and make me a happy man.”
Mary rested her hands more firmly upon her brother’s shoulder, and turned to watch her sister; and, as she did so, her sweet, pensive face grew more grave and her brother’s was averted, so that he could not read its secret, neither did he hear the sigh that softly rose as her eyes were suffused with tears.
Chapter Six.
Dr North Visits the Sexton
“Nonsense, Hartley, she is as quiet as a lamb.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” said the curate, who looked rather anxiously at a handsome, weedy grey cob just led round to the front.
His sisters were standing ready to go and make a call, and his brow wrinkled a little as he noted a peculiar fidgety expression about the mare’s ears.
“Why, Hartley, how foolish you are!” cried Leo. “You stop indoors reading till you are as nervous as Mrs Berens.”
“Eh? Yes. Well, I suppose I am,” said the curate good-humouredly. “But be careful; I’m always a little uncomfortable about strange mares. Will you have an extra rein?”
“Absurd!” said Leo. “There, you shall be humoured. Tell him to buckle it lower down.”
The girl looked very handsome and animated, and, since the scene in the wood with Tom Candlish, had been so penitent and patient that her brother had shrunk from checking her in any way.
The mare had duly arrived, and, apparently bending to her brother’s will, Leo had patiently seen it put in harness – degraded, as she called it – and as it went very well they were going on the present morning drive.
Hartley Salis tried to hide his anxiety, and turned to chat with Mary, who looked rather pale – the consequence of a headache, as she said; and as he talked he felt more and more between the horns of a dilemma.
Mary did not want to go, he knew. He did not want her to go, but, paradoxical as it may sound, he did want her to go. For choice he would have gone himself; but he knew that if he did Leo would look upon it as distrust – not of her power to manage the new mare, but of her word. For she had as good as promised him that she would see Tom Candlish no more, and he felt that he was bound to show in every way possible that he enjoyed a confidence that he really did not feel. With Mary to bear Leo company he knew that she was safe, and even that would bear the aspect of espionage; but the girl had accepted the position, and they were ready to start.
The trio were on their way to the gate when the new mare uttered a loud whinnying noise which was answered from a distance. There was the sound of hoofs, and directly after North trotted up.
Mary drew a deep breath, and her nervousness in connection with her ride was killed by one greater, which forced her to rouse all, her energies, so as to be calm during the coming encounter.
“Morning,” cried the doctor merrily, as he shook hands with all in turn. “Going to try the new mare?”
“Yes,”