round, quickly and discomposed, beheld a venerable form approaching them.
The occasion was lost: Evelyn also turned; and seeing who was the
intruder, sprang towards him almost with a cry of joy.

The new comer was a man who had passed his seventieth year; but his old
age was green, his step light, and on his healthful and benignant
countenance time had left but few furrows. He was clothed in black; and
his locks, which were white as snow, escaped from the broad hat, and
almost touched his shoulders.

The old man smiled upon Evelyn, and kissed her forehead fondly. He then
turned to Lord Vargrave, who, recovering his customary self-possession,
advanced to meet him with extended hand.

"My dear Mr. Aubrey, this is a welcome surprise. I heard you were not at
the vicarage, or I would have called on you."

"Your lordship honours me," replied the curate. "For the first time for
thirty years I have been thus long absent from my cure; but I am now
returned, I hope, to end my days among my flock."

"And what," asked Vargrave,--"what--if the question be not
presumptuous--occasioned your unwilling absence?"

"My lord," replied the old man, with a gentle smile, "a new vicar has
been appointed. I went to him, to proffer an humble prayer that I might
remain amongst those whom I regarded as my children. I have buried one
generation, I have married another, I have baptized a third."

"You should have had the vicarage itself; you should be better provided