After the blessing, the young gentleman, with a bow, the pink of courtesy, offered a hand to lead her out, nor could she refuse, though, to use her own expression, she hated the absurdity of mincing down the aisle with a fine young spark looking like her grandson; while her poor father had to put up with Harriet’s arm.  Outside came the greetings, the flourish of the hat, the “I may venture to introduce myself, and to beg of you, sir, and of my fair cousins to excuse my sudden intrusion.”

“No apology can be needed for your appearance in your own pew, Sir Amyas,” said the Major with outstretched hand; “it did my heart good to see you there!”

“I would not have taken you thus by surprise,” continued the youth, “but one of my horses lost a shoe yesterday, and we were constrained to halt at Portkiln for the night, and ride on this morning.  Herries went on to the Deanery, and I hoped to have seen you before church, but found you had already entered.”

Portkiln was so near, that this Sabbath day’s journey did not scandalise Betty, and her father eagerly welcomed his kinsman, and insisted that he should go no farther.  Sir Amyas accepted the invitation, nothing loth, only asking, with a little courtly diffidence, if it might not be convenient for him to sleep at the Great House, and begging the ladies to excuse his riding dress.

His eyes wandered anxiously as though in search of something in the midst of all his civility, and while the Major was sending Eugene to bring Mr. Arden—­who was hanging back at the churchyard gate, unwilling to thrust himself forward—­the faltering question was put, while the cheeks coloured like a girl’s, “I hope my fair partner, my youngest cousin, Miss Aurelia Delavie, is in good health?”

“We hope so, sir, thank you,” returned Betty; “but she left us six days ago.”

“Left you!” he repeated, in consternation that overpowered his courtliness.

“Yes, sir,” said Harriet, “my Lady, your mother, has been good enough to send for her to London.”

“My Lady!” he murmured to himself; “I never thought of that!  How and when did she go?”

The answer was interrupted by the Major coming up “Sir Amyas Belamour, permit me to present to you the Reverend Richard Arden, the admirable divine to whom we are beholden for the excellent and learned discourse of this morning.  You’ll not find such another scholar in all Carminster.”

“I am highly honoured,” returned the baronet, with a bow in return for Mr. Arden’s best obeisance, such as it was; and Harriet, seeing Peggy Duckworth in the distance, plumed herself on her probable envy.