The master went home to supper at four o’clock. Ten was then the hour for dinner, four for supper; people who kept late hours made it eleven and five. As Mr Roberts came in sight of his own door, his heart sank down into his shoes. On the door-step stood a black-robed figure which he knew only too well, and which he would gladly have given a handful of gold to know he might have no chance of seeing for a month to come. A faint idea of hiding himself in the shrubs crossed his mind for a moment; but he could not stay there for an indefinite time, and the priest would in all probability wait for him, if it were he whom he meant to see. No, it would be better to go forward and get it over; but it was with a fervid wish that it were over that Mr Roberts went on and deferentially saluted his Rector.
That reverend gentleman thoroughly understood his man. Had it been possible to gauge the human soul with a thermometer, he could have guessed with accuracy how it would read. He met him, not with severity, but with a deep gravity which conveyed the idea that something serious required discussion, and that he earnestly hoped the culprit would be able to clear himself of the charge.
In the hall they were met by Mistress Grena and Gertrude, who had seen them coming, and who came forward, as in duty bound, to show extra respect to their spiritual pastor. The genuine spirituality was more than dubious: but that did not matter. He was a “spiritual person”—though the person was exceedingly unspiritual!
The priest gave a blessing to the ladies with two fingers extended in a style which must require some practice, and at Mistress Grena’s request sat down with them to supper. During the meal the conversation was general, though the priest retained his serious aspect of something unpleasant to come. The heavy part of the supper was over, and cheese, with late apples, Malaga raisins, and Jordan almonds, had made their appearance; the ladies prepared to withdraw.
“Mistress Holland,” said the Rector, “I beseech you to tarry yet a little season”—adding to Gertrude, “I need not detain you, my daughter.”
Gertrude escaped with great satisfaction. “Those two are going to catch it!” she said to herself; “I am glad I am out of it!” Mr Roberts knew sorrowfully that the surmise was woefully true, but he was rather relieved to find that his sister-in-law was “going to catch it” with him. Her presence was a sort of stick for him to lean on.
“My son,” said the Rector to Mr Roberts, with an air of sorrowful reluctance to begin a distasteful piece of work, “it troubleth me sorely to do that I must needs do, but necessity hath no law. Remember, I pray you, that as yesterday I called here, desiring to have speech of your youngest daughter, and was told by Osmund your butler that she was visiting a friend.”
“That was fully truth, Father,” said Mistress Grena, as if she supposed that the Rector was about to complain of some duplicity on the part of Osmund.
Mr Bastian waved aside the assurance.
“I left word,” he continued, repeating the words with emphasis, “I left word that I would call to see her this morrow. Here am I; and what have I now learned? That she left this house yester-even, without so much as a word of excuse, not to say a beseechment of pardon, when she knew that I purposed having speech of her.” His voice became more stern. “Is this the manner wherein ye deal with the ministers of holy Church? Truly, had I just cause to suspect your fidelity to her, this were enough to proceed on. But trusting ye may yet have ability to plead your excuse”—a slightly more suave tone was allowed to soften the voice—“I wait to hear it, ere I take steps that were molestous to you, and truly unwelcome unto me. What say ye in extenuation thereof?”