On one thing Clement ventured, being nearly certain that the reaction of Gerald’s mind would not include the preventing of all Penbeacon works.  He encouraged young Bramshaw to set about the plans so as to make the washings as innocuous as possible, being persuaded that this was the only way to prevent more obnoxious erections on ground just beyond.  Moreover, this gave the lovers hope, and Alda had, under Clement’s persuasion and rebukes, withdrawn her opposition to the engagement, so that Sophy was free to wander about Penbeacon with her Philip, and help to set up his theodolite, and hold the end of his measuring-tape.

Her mother could not well stand out on the score of unequal birth, when Mr. Ferdinand Brown, whose father had swept out the office, came down and was accepted with calm civility, it could not be called delight, even by Emilia.

But he was a worthy young man, and well educated, and it was for his sake that Clement and Geraldine had stayed on at the Priory, giving the Harewoods and their curates holidays in turn; though even this amount of work was enough to leave with Clement a dread conviction that his full share of St. Matthew’s would be fatal to him, insomuch that he had written to the patron, the Bishop of Albertstown, seriously to propose resignation.

Fresh letters arrived from America, the first slightly more cheery, but the next was dated from Violinia, to the general surprise, and it was very short, from Sir Ferdinand.

“DEAR CLEMENT,

“We have the telegram, a relief to the poor lad’s mind, but he has not spoken much since.  It came just as we were starting in an invalid Pullman, fitted with every comfort; but the jars of these lines are unavoidable and unspeakable, and he suffered so terribly, as well as so patiently, that we had to give up our intention of taking him to Underwood.  The one thing he begged for was that we would take him to Fiddler’s Ranch.  You know there is a mission-station here, so we have him in the clergyman’s house, and the place is so advanced that he has every comfort.  But I doubt whether the dear boy will ever move again.  He is perfectly helpless, but his brain quite clear, and his spirits good.

“Ever yours,
“F.  A. TRAVIS UNDERWOOD.”

There followed a long letter, dictated by Gerald himself, and partly written by Lida, partly by Marilda, at several different times.

“DEAREST, MOST DEAREST CHERIE, AND ALL—-

“I should like to be able to sign my name to my thanks to all, if only to feel that I have a name, and one so honoured, but these fingers of mine will not obey me, so you must take the will for the deed, and believe that you have made me very happy, and completed all I could wish.  I fear you never will believe how jolly it is to lie here, the pain all gone, since having done with that terrific train, and the three tenderest, most watchful of slaves always round me, while my Cherie is spared the sight of the wreck.—-(L.)