“Ay,” said Miss Christie, “that’s very awkward for him.”  Miss Christie had built certain hopes upon that morning’s visit.  “It seems to me,” she continued, “that John Mortimer’s affairs give him twice as much trouble as they used to do.”

Emily was silent; she felt that this was not letting things be as they had been heretofore.  She took up the note.  He did not affirm that he was obliged to go out.  Even if he was, what should she do now?  She was left in custody of the ring, and could neither see him nor write to him.

“On Sunday I shall see him.  I shall have his hand for a moment; I shall give him this, after morning service.”

But, no.  Sunday came; the Mortimers were at church, but not their father.  “Father had walked over to that little chapel-of-ease beyond Wigfield, that Grand gave the money to build,” they said.  “He took Johnnie with him to day.”

“Yes,” said Barbara, “and he promised next Sunday to take me.”

“He will not meet me,” thought Emily.

She waited another week, hoping she might meet him accidentally; hoping he might come to her, hoping and fearing she hardly knew what.  But still John Mortimer made no sign, and she could not decide to write to him; every day that she retained the ring made it more difficult for her to return it, without breaking so the slender thread that seemed to hold her to him still.  There was no promise in it of any future communication at all.

In the meantime curiosity, having been once excited about John Mortimer and his concerns, kept open eyes on him still, and soon the air was full of rumours which reached all ears but those of the two people most concerned.  A likely thing, if there is the smallest evidence in the world for it, can easily get headway if nobody in authority can contradict it.

All Wigfield said that Mr. Mortimer had “proposed” to Mrs. Walker, and she had refused him.  Brandon heard it with amazement, but could say nothing; Miss Christie heard it with yet more; but she, too, held her peace.

Johnnie Mortimer heard it, made furtive observations on his father, was pleased to think that he was dull, restless, pale—­remembered his own letter to his sisters, and considered himself to be partly to blame.  Then the twins heard it, took counsel with Johnnie, believed it also, were full of ruth and shame.  “So dear papa loved Mrs. Walker, and she would not marry him.  There could only be one reason; she knew she had nothing to expect but rebellion and rudeness and unkindness from them.  No, papa was not at all like himself; he often sighed, and he looked as if his head ached.  They had seen in the paper that he had lost a quantity of money by some shares and things; but they didn’t think he cared about that, for he gave them a sovereign the next day to buy a birthday present for Janie.  Father must not be made miserable on their account.  What had they better do?”