Mr. West felt nearly as sorrowful as she, and far more angry.  In his heart he believed that Captain Monk had done this oppressive thing in revenge.  A great deal of ill-feeling had existed in the parish touching the rate made for the chimes; and the Captain assumed that the few who had not yet paid it would not pay—­not that they could not.

Quitting the cottage in an impulse of anger, he walked swiftly to Leet Hall.  It lay in his duty, as he fully deemed, to avow fearlessly to Captain Monk what he thought of this act of oppression, and to protest against it.  The beams of the setting sun, sinking below the horizon in the still autumn evening, fell across the stubbled fields from which the corn had not long been reaped; all around seemed to speak of peace.

To accommodate two gentlemen who had come from Worcester that day to Leet Hall on business, and wished to quit it again before dark, the dinner had been served earlier than usual.  The guests had left, but Captain Monk was seated still over his wine in the dining-room when Mr. West was shown in.  In crossing the hall to it, he met Mrs. Carradyne, who shook hands with him cordially.

Captain Monk looked surprised.  “Why, this is an unexpected pleasure—­a visit from you, Mr. Vicar,” he cried, in mocking jest.  “Hope you have come to your senses!  Sit down.  Will you take port or sherry?”

“Captain Monk,” returned the Vicar, gravely, as he took the chair the servant had placed, “I am obliged for your courtesy, but I did not intrude upon you this evening to drink wine.  I have seen a very sad sight, and I am come hoping to induce you to repair it.”

“Seen what?” cried the Captain, who, it is well to mention, had been taking his wine very freely, even for him.  “A flaming sword in the sky?”

“Your tenants, poor Thomas Bean and his wife, are being turned out of house and home, or almost equivalent to it.  Some of their furniture has been seized this afternoon to satisfy the demand for these disputed taxes.”

“Who disputes the taxes?”

“The tax imposed for the chimes was always a disputed tax; and—­”

“Tush!” interrupted the Captain; “Bean owes other things as well as taxes.”

“It was the last feather, sir, which broke the camel’s back.”

“The last feather will not be taken off, whether it breaks backs or leaves them whole,” retorted the Captain, draining his glass of port and filling it again.  “Take you note of that, Mr. Parson.”

“Others are in the same condition as the Beans—­quite unable to pay these rates.  I pray you, Captain Monk—­I am here to pray you—­not to proceed in the same manner against them.  I would also pray you, sir, to redeem this act of oppression, by causing their goods to be returned to these two poor, honest, hard-working people.”

“Hold your tongue!” retorted the Captain, aroused to anger.  “A pretty example you’d set, let you have your way.  Every one of the lot shall be made to pay to the last farthing.  Who the devil is to pay, do you suppose, if they don’t?”