"Yes, I will call," Gilbert answered; "thanks for the suggestion."

He wished Miss Dodd good-afternoon, and left her standing at the gate of
her little garden, watching him with profound interest as he walked away
towards the village. There was a pleasing mystery in the affair, to the
mind of Miss Dodd.

Gilbert Fenton went at once to the Rectory, although it was now past
seven o'clock. He had met Mr. and Mrs. Marchant several times, and had
visited them with the Listers.

The Rector was at home, sitting over his solitary glass of port by the
open window of his snug dining-room, looking lazily out at a group of
sons and daughters playing croquet on the lawn. He was surprised to see
Mr. Fenton, but welcomed him with much cordiality.

"I have come to you full of care, Mr. Marchant," Gilbert began; "and the
pressing nature of my business must excuse the lateness of my visit."

"There is no occasion for any excuse. I am very glad to see you at this
time. Pray help yourself to some wine, there are clean glasses near you;
and take some of those strawberries, on which my wife prides herself
amazingly. People who live in the country all their days are obliged to
give their minds to horticulture. And now, what is this care of yours,
Mr. Fenton? Nothing very serious, I hope."

"It is very serious to me at present. I think you know that I am engaged
to Miss Nowell."

"Perfectly. I had imagined until this moment that you and she were