“Surely,” said Alick:  “it would be unfaithful in me to refuse.”

“But see if you cannot make arrangements to take the place on trial for a few months.  I know very little of your ecclesiastical law, but grant even that it is as devoid of common sense as I should suppose—­seeing who are the men who make, administer and obey it—­still, I should think that a temporary incumbency might be arranged.”

“I should think so, and I will take your advice,” said Alick, over whom Emmanuel Gryce was fast establishing the power which belongs to the stronger over the weaker, to the more astute over the more dense.

“You will find an adopted daughter of mine in the neighborhood,” then said Mr. Gryce with the most amiable indifference.  “She lives with my sister at our old home on the fell-side:  Windy Brow the place is called.  You must tell me how she looks and what you think of her altogether when you write to me, as I suppose you will do, or when you come home, if you elect not to take the cure even on trial.”

“I am not much in the way of criticising young ladies,” said Alick sadly.

“She is rather a remarkable girl, all things considered,” returned Mr. Gryce quietly.  “Her name is Leonora Darley.  You will remember—­Leonora Darley.  Ask for her when you go up to Windy Brow:  Leonora Darley,” for the third time.

“All right:  Miss Leonora Darley,” repeated Alick, suspecting nothing; and again Mr. Gryce smiled as he dug his fingers into the earth of a chrysalis-box.  How pleasant it was to pull the strings and see his puppets dance!

Of course, Mr. Birkett’s consent was a necessary preliminary to Alick’s departure, but there was no difficulty about it.  The military rector was tired to death, so he used to say, of his zealous young aide-de-camp, and hailed the prospect of getting rid of him handsomely with a frank pleasure not flattering to poor Alick’s self-love.  “Certainly, my dear boy, certainly,” he said.  “It will be better for you to have a place of your own, where you can carry out your new ideas.  You see I am an old man now, and have learnt the value of letting well alone.  You are in all the fever-time of zeal, and believe that vice and ignorance are like the walls of Jericho, to fall down when you blow your trump.  I do not.  But on the whole, it is as well that you should learn the realities of life for yourself, and carry your energies where they may be useful.”

“Then you do not mind?” asked Alick boyishly.

The rector gave a loud clear laugh.  “Mind! a thousand times no,” he said, rubbing his plump white hands.  “I can manage well enough alone, and if I cannot there are dozens of young eligibles ready to jump at the place.  Mind! no.  Go in Heaven’s name, and may you be blessed in your undertaking!”

The last words came in as grace-lines, and with them Alick felt himself dismissed.