“I’ll meet you there.  You needn’t tell him you’re going to be married all in a minute.  He’ll find that out for himself very quick.  So will everybody.  If a thing’s worth doing, try to do it—­that’s my motto.  But, for the moment, you can say that your affections are given in another quarter.”

“Of course, it’s a great thing for me, Richard.  I’m very proud of it.”

“And so am I. And Job Legg was the dumb instrument, so I am the last to quarrel with him.  Just tell him, that failing another, you might have thought on him; but that the die is cast; and when he hears his fate, he’ll naturally want to know who ’tis.  And then the great secret must come out.  I should reckon after Easter would be a very good time for us to wed.”

“I can’t believe my senses,” she said.

“You will in a week,” he assured her; “and, meanwhile, I shall do my best to help you.  In a week the joyful tidings go out to the people.”

He kissed her, shook her hand and squeezed it.  Then he departed leaving Mrs. Northover in the extremity of bewilderment.  But pleasure and great pride formed no small part of her mingled emotions.

One paramount necessity darkened all, however.  Nelly felt a very sharp pang when she thought upon Mr. Legg, and her sufferings increased as the day advanced until they quite mastered the situation and clouded the brightness of conquest.  Other difficulties and doubts also obtruded as she began to estimate the immensity of the thing that Mr. Gurd’s ardour had prompted her to do; but Job was the primal problem and she knew that she could not sleep until she had made her peace with him.

She determined to leave him in no doubt concerning his successful rival.  The confession would indeed make it easier for them both.  At least she hoped it might do so.

He came for keys after closing time and she bade him sit down in the chair which Richard Gurd had that morning filled.  One notes trifles at the supremest moments of life, and the trifles often stick, while the great events which accompany them fade into the past.  Mrs. Northover observed that while Richard Gurd had filled the chair—­and overflowed, Mr. Legg by no means did so.  He occupied but the centre of the spacious seat.  There seemed a significance in that.

“Sit down, Job, and listen.  I’ve got to say something that will hurt you, my dear man.  I’ve made my choice, after a good bit of deep thought I assure you, and I’ve—­I’ve chosen the other, Job.”

He stared and his thin jaws worked.  His nostrils also twitched.

“I didn’t know there was another.”