’Kiss me, Uncle Rowland; I am very glad the bishop has written you such a nice letter,’ said Minette.  Rowland took the child up in his arms.  ‘Grandma Jenkins is crying so in the corner,’ she whispered; ’is it for papa, or poor mamma?’

Rowland’s attention was instantly recalled to Mrs Jenkins, who was, indeed, crying and sobbing very much.  He pointed her out to his mother, who at once went to her.

‘Oh!  I am thinking of your Rowlands and my Howels, so different!’ said the wretched mother; ’he to be beginning life so rich, and your son with nothing; and now! oh, anwyl! oh, anwyl!’

’Come with me, cousin ‘Lizbeth,’ said Mrs Prothero kindly; ’come upstairs, and I will make you some tea, and then Owen shall send you home.’

Mrs Prothero and Mrs Jenkins left the room, followed by Gladys, who was soon making the required beverage.

Whilst congratulations were still going on in the parlour, Miss Gwynne’s voice was heard in the passage.

’Not a word to Miss Gwynne, or indeed to any one, of my having the living, to-day at least,’ said Rowland, leaving the room hastily, and repeating his request to Gladys in the hall.

‘I can only stay a few minutes,’ said Miss Gwynne, when she had shaken hands with the party in the parlour, ’I wished to ask how Mrs Prothero is, and to see you, Mrs Jonathan.  I have been delayed at the school, and it is nearly dusk already.’

‘Oh, don’t go yet, Miss Gwynne,’ said Minette, creeping up to her, and getting on her lap, ’it is so nice with you.  Poor mamma is gone to heaven, Miss Gwynne.’

‘Yes, love,’ whispered Miss Gwynne, kissing Minette, ’but we will not talk of it before your grandfather, you see it grieves him.’

’But you won’t go; it is moonlight now—­a pretty moon—­I see it.  It will light you home.’

The ‘pretty moon’ rather frightened Miss Gwynne, who said that if she did not go, she would have the servants in search of her.

‘Will you allow me to walk with you, Miss Gwynne?’ said Rowland; ’it is too late for you to return alone.’

’Thank you, I shall be really obliged, if I am not taking you from your friends.  I am a much greater coward than I used to be.  London lamps spoil one for country roads.  Tell your grandmother that I will come again to-morrow and see her, Minette.’

Miss Gwynne and Rowland left the house together.  Mr Prothero saw them to the door, and watched them up the road.

‘Strange times!’ he said to his brother, when he returned to the parlour.  ’Rowland walking with Miss Gwynne quite familiar.  I hope he isn’t too forward; to be seure he don’t offer his arm, or go near her; but it seems out of place their going together in that way at all.  Gwynne, Glanyravon is a proud man, perhaps he ’ouldnt like it; but Rowland is so grand and so good now, that I daren’t say a word.’

‘Oh!’ said Mrs Jonathan, drawing herself up to her fullest height, ’a Rugby boy, and an Oxford man is a companion for any lady—­and a London rector is a match for any lady in the kingdom, allow me to assure you, Mr Prothero; and Rowland has been in quite as good, or better society in town, than you can meet with in this neighbourhood.  Sir Philip is quite in the first circles.’