it.

David returned to Witton about the middle of the week. In the interval
he had taken measures to make known to those concerned the revolution
of his affairs, and to have the old Lambert mansion opened, and put in
some sort of condition for his reception. He had gone forth on foot, an
unknown, poor, and humble clergyman; he returned driving behind a pair
of horses, by far the most important personage in the town; and yet
this outward change was far less great than the change within. His
reception could scarcely be called cordial; though not wanting in the
technical respect and ceremony due to him as a gentleman of wealth and
influence, he could perceive a half concealed suspense and misgiving,
due unmistakably to his attitude as a recreant clergyman.

In fact, his worthy parishioners were in a terrible quandary how to
reconcile their desire to stand well with their richest fellow-
townsman, and their dismayed recognition of that townsman's scandalous
professional conduct. David smiled at this, but it made him bitter too.
He had intended once more to call the congregation together, and
frankly to explain to them the reasons, good or bad, which had induced
him to withdraw from active labor in the church. But now he determined
to preserve a proud and indifferent silence. There was only one person
who had a right to call him to account, and it was not without
fearfulness that he looked forward to his meeting with her. However,
the sooner such fears are put at rest the better, and he called upon
Edith on the evening of his arrival. Her father had been in bed for two
days with a cold, and she was sitting alone in the little parlor.

She rose at his entrance with a deep blush, and a look of mixed
gladness and anxiety. Her eyes swiftly noted the change in his dress,