Very early on Monday, the Golds’ governess took her departure from Huntsdean. The train bore her away through the pleasant southern counties while the dew was still shining on the meadows. On and on it went; past cottages, standing amid fruit-laden trees, and gardens where Michaelmas daisies were in bloom; past yellow fields, where the corn was falling under the sickles of the reapers. Hedges were gay with Canterbury bells and ragged robins. Here and there were dashes of gold on the deep green of the woods. Eve Hazleburn, quiet and tearless, looked out upon the smiling country, and bade it a mute farewell.

Afterwards, two carriages laden with luggage drove out of the village, taking the[166] road that led to the neighbouring seaport town. The first contained the two little Channells and their nurses; in the second sat Rhoda and Nelly. And before the vehicles were out of sight, Robert Channell had turned his steps in the direction of the curate’s lodging.

He met the young man in the lane outside the sexton’s cottage, and gave him a kindly good morning.

“I am the bearer of startling news, Morgan,” he said, slipping a little note into his hand. “Let us come under the shade of the churchyard trees. And now, Morgan, before you read the note, I want to ask you to forgive my Nelly.”

“Forgive Nelly!” stammered the curate, thinking that if all could be known it would be Nelly’s part to forgive him.

“Yes,” the father answered. [167]“Try to think of her as a dear, foolish child who has made a grave mistake. She has sent me to break off her engagement with you, Morgan. She begs you, through me, to forgive her for any pain that she may cause you. She wants you to remember her kindly always, but neither to write to her, nor seek to see her again.”

The curate was silent for some moments. No suspicion of the truth crossed his mind. He concluded, not unnaturally, that he had been too quiet and grave a lover for the bright girl. That was all.

When he spoke, his words were very few. Perhaps Nelly’s father respected him none the less because he made no pretence of great sorrow. His face was pale, and his voice trembled a little, as he said quietly,—

“If you will come into my lodging, Mr. Channell, I will give you Nelly’s letters and her portrait. She may like to have them back again without delay.”

They walked out of the churchyard, and down the lane to the sexton’s cottage. And then Morgan left Mr. Channell sitting in the little parlour, while he went upstairs to his room.

[168]

The hour of release had come. He took out a plain gold locket, which had always been worn unseen, and detached it from its guard. He opened it, and looked long and sadly at the fair face that it contained. It was a delicately-painted photograph, true to life; and locket and portrait had been Nelly’s first gift. The smile was her own smile, frank and bright; the brown eyes seemed to look straight at the gazer. “O Nelly,” he said, kissing the picture, “why couldn’t I love you better? Thank God for this painless parting! No wonder that you wearied of me, dear; you will be a thousand times freer and happier without me.”

Presently he came downstairs, and entered the parlour with the locket and a little packet of letters. These he gave silently into Mr. Channell’s hands.

“Morgan,” said Robert Channell, [169]“I am heartily sorry for this. Don’t think that I shall cease to feel for you as a friend, because I cannot have you for a son-in-law.”

“I shall never forget all your kindness,” Morgan answered, in a low voice. “But I shall soon leave this place, Mr. Channell.”

“Better so, perhaps,”............