“Well—­no; why should I?  I am too idle about it as it is.  I should be more so under these altered circumstances.”

“I am sure you would do your duty if you resolved to keep it, but I don’t see why you should do so.”

“Clavering is a great deal better than Humbleton,” said the rector.  Humbleton was the name of the parish held by Mr. Fielding, his son-in-law.

But the idea here put forward did not suit the idea which was running in Mrs. Clavering’s mind.  “Edward and Mary are very well off,” she said.  “His own property is considerable, and I don’t think they want anything.  Besides, he would hardly like to give up a family living.”

“I might ask him, at any rate.”

“I was thinking of Mr. Saul,” said Mrs. Clavering, boldly.

“Of Mr. Saul!” The image of Mr. Saul, as rector of Clavering, perplexed the new baronet egregiously.

“Well—­yes.  He is an excellent clergyman.  No one can deny that.”  Then there was silence between them for a few moments.  “In that case, he and Fanny would of course marry.  It is no good concealing the fact that she is very fond of him.”

“Upon my word, I can’t understand it,” said the rector.

“It is so; and as to the excellence of his character, there can be no doubt.”  To this the rector made no answer, but went away into his dressing-room, that he might prepare himself for his walk across the park to the great house.  While they were discussing who should be the future incumbent of the living, Lady Clavering was still sleeping in unconsciousness of her fate.  Mr. Clavering greatly dreaded the task which was before him, and had made a little attempt to induce his wife to take the office upon herself; but she had explained to him that it would be more seemly that he should be the bearer of the tidings.  “It would seem that you were wanting in affection for her if you do not go yourself;” his wife had said to him.  That the rector of Clavering was master of himself and of his own actions, no one who knew the family ever denied, but the instances in which he declined to follow his wife’s advice were not many.

It was about eight o’clock when he went across the park.  He had already sent a messenger with a note to beg that Lady Clavering would be up to receive him.  As he would come very early, he had said, perhaps she would see him in her own room.  The poor lady had, of course, been greatly frightened by this announcement; but this fear had been good for her, as they had well understood at the rectory; the blow, dreadfully sudden as it must still be, would be somewhat less sudden under this preparation.  When Mr. Clavering reached the house the servant was in waiting to show him up stairs to the sitting-room which Lady Clavering usually occupied when alone.  She had been there waiting for him for the last half hour.  “Mr. Clavering, what is it?” she exclaimed, as he entered with tidings of death written on his visage.  “In the name of heaven, what is it?  You have something to tell me of Hugh.”