to express a hope that the distinguished officer who was the subject of his toast might be prevailed upon at some future date to favour his fellow-townsmen with a recital of some of the moving scenes which he had witnessed; he would only refer on the present occasion to the domestic aspect of the event. What to the minds of the company assembled round this hospitable table must heighten in a peculiar degree the interest of the occasion, was the circumstance that the distinguished subject of his toast was united by the ties of closest relationship to the refined and charming lady who had for some years past been one of the chiefest ornaments of their local circle. He concluded, after more to the same effect, by proposing the gallant son of their elegant and accomplished hostess, with which toast he would beg to couple the name of their charming and accomplished and beautiful hostess herself.
Then the company rose to drink the toast, following the speaker's call to give it with all the honours, Mr. Drewitt himself leading off the cheers with his sonorous voice, followed by Mr. Chanter in his mellifluous baritone, and the curate's light tenor. Rawlings' gruff voice could also be heard, in a tone, as it seemed to Yorke, intended to be satirical; while Mrs. Yorke sat at the head of the table bowing her thanks, and raising her handkerchief to her eyes. Meanwhile Yorke, feeling thoroughly the absurdity of the situation, and half inclined to be angry, would have passed the thing off with a laugh, but that his mother began signalling him to reply in such a marked way, that there was no help for it without making a scene; and accordingly he had to rise and thank them on behalf of his mother and himself, for the honour that had been done them — which he managed to do without appearing ungracious, notwithstanding the vexation he felt. After all, the good people, except Mr. Rawlings, were all thoroughly in earnest, and quite thought they were paying him a delicate compliment.
"Well," said Mrs. Yorke, after the guests had left, which they did rather hurriedly on discovering that it was close on Sunday morning — "well, I think my little party was a great success; and oh, my dear Arthur, it makes me feel a very proud and happy mother to see you so much appreciated."
"I must say, my dear mother, I did not appreciate one of your guests. That fellow Rawlings seems a most objectionable style of man."
"My dear Arthur, what a horrid way of talking! I never heard anything so shocking. You will make me quite ashamed of you if you talk like that. Mr. Rawlings is a little brusque, but these very clever men often are like that. He took quite a wonderful degree at Cambridge, you know — an optime or a wrangler, or something of the sort — and is a fellow of his college, and has written for one of the magazines; quite a literary person in fact, and very much looked up to here. He has his little oddities, no doubt, but there is something so fresh and unconventional about literary geniuses."
"And it tends to make others unconventional too. I never felt so much disposed to kick a man before. But how comes he to be a fellow of his college and holding a living down here?"
"It is a college living, I believe. I don't quite understand the particulars, but it can be held by a fellow so long as he is a bachelor. To be sure, he might have married many times: Maria Brabazon was quite ready to have him, if he had proposed, and there were others, too; but of course it would be a great sacrifice for him to make." And it struck Yorke that his mother looked somewhat confused and self-conscious.
Next day being Sunday, Yorke accompanied his mother to St. Clement's, which was very fully attended, the pews being filled mainly by persons of the better class. The service was apparently not regarded of much importance, prayers being read by a curate, while Mr. Morgan looked about him from the communion table, as if taking stock of the congregation; the business of the morning was the vicar's sermon, delivered from the pulpit which towered above the reading-desk, and whence the preacher looked down on the top of the heads of the people in the pews below. It was a glib discourse, delivered with a powerful voice, and with readiness and self-possession, and without the aid of notes, and was throughout a denunciation of the horrors of Popery and the blessings of the evangelical faith, but was entirely free from any reference to religion; and as the congregation were apparently quite of the same way of thinking as the preacher, the address seemed to give great satisfaction. After service they took an early dinner at the vicarage, plentiful and friendly, to which Rebecca came down, as affectionate as ever, but too much absorbed in contemplation of her situation to take much share in the conversation. Arthur took occasion to express his sur-
