WHEN, some time after, Kenelm quitted the room and joined Mrs. Bowles below, he said cheerily, “All right; Tom and I are sworn friends. We are going together to Luscombe the day after to-morrow,—Sunday; just write a line to his uncle to prepare him for Tom’s visit, and send thither his clothes, as we shall walk, and steal forth unobserved betimes in the morning. Now go up and talk to him; he wants a mother’s soothing and petting. He is a noble fellow at heart, and we shall be all proud of him some day or other.”

As he walked towards the farmhouse, Kenelm encountered Mr. Lethbridge, who said, “I have come from Mr. Saunderson’s, where I went in search of you. There is an unexpected hitch in the negotiation for Mrs. Bawtrey’s shop. After seeing you this morning I fell in with Mr. Travers’s bailiff, and he tells me that her lease does not give her the power to sublet without the Squire’s consent; and that as the premises were originally let on very low terms to a favoured and responsible tenant, Mr. Travers cannot be expected to sanction the transfer of the lease to a poor basket-marker: in fact, though he will accept Mrs. Bawtrey’s resignation, it must be in favour of an applicant whom he desires to oblige. On hearing this, I rode over to the Park and saw Mr. Travers himself. But he was obdurate to my pleadings. All I could get him to say was, ‘Let the stranger who interests himself in the matter come and talk to me. I should like to see the man who thrashed that brute Tom Bowles: if he got the better of him perhaps he may get the better of me. Bring him with you to my harvest-supper to-morrow evening.’ Now, will you come?”

“Nay,” said Kenelm, reluctantly; “but if he only asks me in order to gratify a very vulgar curiosity, I don’t think I have much chance of serving Will Somers. What do you say?”

“The Squire is a good man of business, and, though no one can call him unjust or grasping, still he is very little touched by sentiment; and we must own that a sickly cripple like poor Will is not a very eligible tenant. If, therefore, it depended only on your chance with the Squire, I should not be very sanguine. But we have an ally in his daughter. She is very fond of Jessie Wiles, and she has shown great kindness to Will. In fact, a sweeter, more benevolent, sympathizing nature than that of Cecilia Travers does not exist. She has great influence with her father, and through her you may win him.”

“I particularly dislike having anything to do with women,” said Kenelm, churlishly. “Parsons are accustomed to get round them. Surely, my dear sir, you are more fit for that work than I am.”

“Permit me humbly to doubt that proposition; one does n’t get very quickly round the women when one carries the weight of years on one’s back. But whenever you want the aid of a parson to bring your own wooing to a happy conclusion, I shall be happy, in my special capacity of parson, to perform the ceremony required.”

“Dii meliora!” said Kenelm, gravely. “Some ills are too serious to be approached even in joke. As for Miss Travers, the moment you call her benevolent you inspire me with horror. I know too well what a benevolent girl is,—officious, restless, fidgety, with a snub nose, and her pocket full of tracts. I will not go to the harvest-supper.”

“Hist!” said the Parson, softly. They were now passing the cottage of Mrs. Somers; and while Kenelm was haranguing against benevolent girls, Mr. Lethbridge had paused before it, and was furtively looking in at the window. “Hist! and come here,—gently.”

Kenelm obeyed, and looked in through the window. Will was seated; Jessie Wiles had nestled herself at his feet, and was holding his hand in both hers, looking up into his face. Her profile alone was seen, but its expression was unutterably soft and tender. His face, bent downwards towards her, wore a mournful expression; nay, the tears were rolling silently down his cheeks. Kenelm listened and heard her say, “Don’t talk so, Will, you break my heart; it is I who am not worthy of you.”

“Parson,” said Kenelm, as they walked on, “I must go to that confounded harvest-supper. I begin to think there is something true in the venerable platitude about love in a cottage. And Will Somers must be married in haste, in order to repent at leisure.”

“I don’t see why a man should repent having married a good girl whom he loves.”

“You don’t? Answer me candidly. Did you ever meet a man who repented having married?”

“Of course I have; very often.”

“Well, think again, and answer as candidly. Did you ever meet a man who repented not having married?”

The Parson mused, and was silent.

“Sir,” said Kenelm, “your reticence proves your honesty, and I respect it.” So saying, he bounded off, and left the Parson crying out wildly, “But—but—”