"Sir," said Mr. Jarner, gravely, "can you think that I, a priest of the Church, would neglect the welfare of her soul? She is a member of our Church, and has received the Communion at my hands. I have never known her to tell a lie, and her heart is excellent. Many a case of distress has she relieved, and her influence with Miss Linisfarne has ever been exercised for the benefit of the poor and needy. Gipsies or no gipsies," added the vicar, raising a ponderous finger and shaking it at Dan, "you could not find a woman more fitted for your wife--ay, lord though you be, sir, and she a rustic maiden."
Lord Ardleigh coloured under the steady gaze of the old man, and laughed in a somewhat embarrassed fashion.
"According to the gipsies, and to what you say, it seems I have met with my fate. She is very beautiful, and all that is desirable; but----"
"But you don't love her? Of course not! You have only met her once."
"I don't say that I don't love her," protested Dan.
"Then you do love her?" said the vicar, eagerly.
"I don't say that either."
"What, what! No evasion, sir, or I shall deem you unworthy of my friendship," thundered the vicar. "Either you love her or you do not. Which is it?"
"I can't say, vicar. I am in a state of betwixt and between."
Mr. Jarner looked steadily at the young lord, who met his gaze with the utmost frankness, and at length put out his hand, which the vicar grasped heartily. That was all; these two fine natures understood each other without words. The brow of the vicar cleared, and Dan smiled genially. Then they talked of other things.