"I can't conceive how a man can do such a wicked thing," said Harry, moralizing, and forgetting for a moment his own sins. "Coming into a house like this, and in such a position, and then undermining a girl's affections, when he must know that it is quite out of the question that he should marry her! I call it downright wicked. It is treachery of the worst sort, and coming from a clergyman is of course the more to be condemned. I shan't be slow to tell him my mind."
"You will gain nothing by quarrelling with him."
"But how can I help it, if I am to see him at all?"
"I mean that I would not be rough with him. The great thing is to make him feel that he should go away as soon as possible, and renounce all idea of seeing Fanny again. You see, your father will have no conversation with him at all, and it is so disagreeable about the services. They'll have to meet in the vestry-room on Sunday, and they won't speak. Will not that be terrible? Anything will be better than that he should remain here."
"And what will my father do for a curate?"
"He can't do anything till he knows when Mr. Saul will go. He talks of taking all the services himself."
"He couldn't do it, mother. He must not think of it. However, I'll see Saul the first thing to-morrow."
The next day was Tuesday, and Harry proposed to leave the rectory at ten o'clock for Mr. Saul's lodgings. Before he did so, he had a few words with his father, who professed even deeper animosity against Mr. Saul than his son. "After that," he said, "I'll believe that a girl may fall in love with any man! People say all manner of things about the folly of girls; but nothing but this,—nothing short of this,—would have convinced me that it was possible that Fanny should have been such a fool. An ape of a fellow,—not made like a man,—with a thin hatchet face, and unwholesome stubbly chin. Good heavens!"
"He has talked her into it."
"But he is such an ass. As far as I know him, he can't say Bo! to a goose."