Several days passed with but few events to mark them. Mark did everything for Ann to save her from exertion, and under his care her ankle became better. He also endeavoured to keep the cottage more tidy, and clear the little garden from weeds, remembering that “cleanliness is next to godliness,” and that if any man will not work, neither should he eat.
One morning Madge burst into the cottage where Mark and Ann were sitting together. “He is coming!” she exclaimed in a breathless voice; “he is coming—he is just at the gate!”
“Who?” cried Ann and Mark at once.
“The parson—the—”
“Not Mr. Ewart!” exclaimed Ann, starting up in terror.
“Yes it is—the tall man dressed in black.”
In a moment the woman rushed to the back room as fast as her ankle would let her. “I’ll keep quiet here,” she said. “If he asks for me, say that I have just gone to the miller’s.”
“Mother’s precious afraid of a parson,” said Madge, as a low knock was heard at the door.