to avail herself of it, and do her utmost to redeem a pledge to which he has apparently attached a meaning she can in no way account for or comprehend.”

When Robert had finished, “It’s like a female lawyer,” he said.  “That woman speaking, and that woman writing, they’re two different creatures—­upon my soul, they are!  Quick, sharp, to the point, when she speaks; and read this!  Can I venture to say of a lady, she’s a liar?”

“Perhaps you had better not,” said Major Waring, who took the letter in his hand and seemed to study it.  After which he transferred it to his pocket.

“To-morrow?  To-morrow’s Sunday,” he observed.  “We will go to church to-morrow.”  His eyes glittered.

“Why, I’m hardly in the mood,” Robert protested.  “I haven’t had the habit latterly.”

“Keep up the habit,” said Percy.  “It’s a good thing for men like you.”

“But what sort of a fellow am I to be showing myself there among all the people who’ve been talking about me—­and the people up at Fairly!” Robert burst out in horror of the prospect.  “I shall be a sight among the people.  Percy, upon my honour, I don’t think I well can.  I’ll read the Bible at home if you like.”

“No; you’ll do penance,” said Major Waring.

“Are you meaning it?”

“The penance will be ten times greater on my part, believe me.”

Robert fancied him to be referring to some idea of mocking the interposition of religion.

“Then we’ll go to Upton Church,” he said.  “I don’t mind it at Upton.”

“I intend to go to the church attended by ‘The Family,’ as we say in our parts; and you must come with me to Warbeach.”

Clasping one hand across his forehead, Robert cried, “You couldn’t ask me to do a thing I hate so much.  Go, and sit, and look sheepish, and sing hymns with the people I’ve been badgering; and everybody seeing me!  How can it be anything to you like what it is to me?”

“You have only to take my word for it that it is, and far more,” said Major Waring, sinking his voice.  “Come; it won’t do you any harm to make an appointment to meet your conscience now and then.  You will never be ruled by reason, and your feelings have to teach you what you learn.  At any rate, it’s my request.”

This terminated the colloquy upon that topic.  Robert looked forward to a penitential Sabbath-day.

“She is a widow still,” thought Major Waring, as he stood alone in his bed-room, and, drawing aside the curtains of his window, looked up at the white moon.

CHAPTER XXIV

When the sun takes to shining in winter, and the Southwest to blowing, the corners of the earth cannot hide from him—­the mornings are like halls full of light.  Robert had spent his hopes upon a wet day that would have kept the congregation sparse and the guests at Fairly absent from public devotions.