“What room is that?” he enquired.

“That’s what we used to call ‘the bride’s room,’ sir,” replied Mrs. Spruce, smoothing down her black skirts with an air of fussy importance, and heaving a sigh; “Miss Maryllia’s mother was to have had it.  Don’t be afraid to step inside, Passon; everythink’s been turned out and aired, and there’s not a speck of damp or dismals anywhere, and you’ll see for yourself what a time we’re ‘avin’ though we’re gettin’ jes’ a bit straight now, and I’ve ’ad Nancy Pyrle as is ’andy with her pencil to mark things down as they come to ’and.  Step inside, Passon Walden,—­do step inside!”

But Walden, held back by some instinctive fastidiousness, declined to move further than the threshold of this hitherto closed and sacredly guarded chamber.  Leaning against the doorway he looked in wonderingly, with a vague feeling of bewilderment, while Mrs. Spruce, trotting busily ahead, gave instructions to a fresh-faced country lass, who, breathing very hard, as though she were running, was carefully shaking out what seemed to be a fairy’s robe of filmy white lace, glistening with pearls.

“Ye see, Passon, this is what all my trouble’s about;”—­she said—­ “Fancy ‘avin’ to unpack all these grand clothes, and sort ’em as they comes, not knowin’ whether they mayn’t fall to bits in our ’ands, some of ’em bein’ fine as cobwebs, an’ such body linen as was never made for any mortal woman in St. Rest, all lace an’ silk an’ little ribbins!  When the trunks arrived an’ we got ’em into the ’all, I felt that faint, I do assure ye!  For me to ’ave to unpack an’ open ’em, and take out all the things inside,—­ah, Passon, it’s an orful ‘sponsibility, seein’ there’s jewels packed among the dresses quite reckless-like, rubies an’ sapphires an’ diamants, somethin’ amazin’, and we’ve taken a reg’lar invent’ry of them all lest somethin’ might be missin’, for the Lord He only knows whether there might not be fifty thousand pounds of proputty in one of them little kicketty boxes, all velvet and satin, made just as if they was sweetmeats, only when ye looks inside ye sees a sparklin’ stone glisterin’ at ye, and ye know it’s wuth a fortune!  I do assure ye, Passon, I’ve never seen such things in all my life!  Miss Maryllia must be mortal extravagant, for there’s enough in one o’ them boxes to feed the whole village of St. Best for several years.  Ah!  Passon, I do assure ye, I’ve thought of Scripter many a time this mornin’; ‘Whose adornin’ let it be the adornin’ of a meek and quiet spirit,’ which is a hornament and no mistake!”

Walden made no remark.  It never even occurred to him just then that Mrs. Spruce was unconsciously rendering in her own particular fashion the text he had chosen for the next day’s sermon.  Never in all his life before had he experienced such strongly mingled sensations of repulsion and interest as at that moment.  With a kind of inward indignation, he asked himself what business he had to be there