Two days afterwards there was an uncomfortable little scene at Heavitree.  It must, no doubt, have been the case, that the same train of circumstances which had produced Mr Gibson’s visit to the Close, produced also the scene in question.  It was suggested by some who were attending closely to the matter that Mr Gibson had already come to repent his engagement with Camilla French; and, indeed, there were those who pretended to believe that he was induced, by the prospect of Miss Stanbury’s demise, to transfer his allegiance yet again, and to bestow his hand upon Dorothy at last.  There were many in the city who could never be persuaded that Dorothy had refused him, these being, for the most part, ladies in whose estimation the value of a husband was counted so great, and a beneficed clergyman so valuable among suitors, that it was to their thinking impossible that Dorothy Stanbury should in her sound senses have rejected such an offer.  ’I don’t believe a bit of it,’ said Mrs Crumbie to Mrs Apjohn; ‘is it likely?’ The ears of all the French family were keenly alive to rumours, and to rumours of rumours.  Reports of these opinions respecting Mr Gibson reached Heavitree, and had their effect.  As long as Mr Gibson was behaving well as a suitor, they were inoperative there.  What did it matter to them how the prize might have been struggled for, might still be struggled for elsewhere, while they enjoyed the consciousness of possession?  But when the consciousness of possession became marred by a cankerous doubt, such rumours were very important.  Camilla heard of the visit in the Close, and swore that she would have justice done her.  She gave her mother to understand that, if any trick were played upon her, the diocese should be made to ring of it, in a fashion that would astonish them all, from the bishop downwards.  Whereupon Mrs French, putting much faith in her daughter’s threats, sent for Mr Gibson.

‘The truth is, Mr Gibson,’ said Mrs French, when the civilities of their first greeting had been completed, ‘my poor child is pining.’

‘Pining, Mrs French!’

’Yes pining, Mr Gibson.  I am afraid that you little understand how sensitive is that young heart.  Of course, she is your own now.  To her thinking, it would be treason to you for her to indulge in conversation with any other gentleman; but, then, she expects that you should spend your evenings with her of course!’

‘But, Mrs French, think of my engagements, as a clergyman.’

’We know all about that, Mr Gibson.  We know what a clergyman’s calls are.  It isn’t like a doctor’s, Mr Gibson.’

‘It’s very often worse, Mrs French.’

‘Why should you go calling in the Close, Mr Gibson?’ Here was the gist of the accusation.

‘Wouldn’t you have me make my peace with a poor dying sister?’ pleaded Mr Gibson.

‘After what has occurred,’ said Mrs French, shaking her head at him, ’and while things are just as they are now, it would be more like an honest man of you to stay away.  And, of course, Camilla feels it.  She feels it very much and she won’t put up with it neither.’