As usual, Milly idled through the long summer hours in a discontented fashion, keeping out of her father's way as much as possible. She saw from his conduct that Iris had not fulfilled her threat of informing him of her vagaries, and said as much.
"No," replied Iris coldly; "I have not complained to your father, as he has no authority over you. It would be useless."
"I'm glad you see that, dear," rejoined Milly cordially. "I suppose you intend to speak to Darcy and get me a lecture?"
"I have told you twice that I do not intend to speak to Mr. Herne. No; it is my intention to ask Mr. Lovel to leave the village."
"Pooh! He won't do that while I'm here.
"If he is an honorable man he will."
Milly shrugged her shoulders. "All I know is that he is a very nice fellow," she said; "if you want honor and priggishness, go to Darcy."
Iris was too disgusted to reply to this remark, and went to her room in silence to prepare for evening service. Fearing lest Lovel should speak with Milly on the way to church, she insisted that the girl should come with her. Assured that the appointment would be kept in the Winding Lane, Milly agreed to this readily enough, as she did not wish to rouse the suspicion of Iris, whom she regarded in the light of a marplot. So, to church the sisters--as they may be called--went in the most amiable fashion, and presented an affectionate exterior for the benefit of the Barnstead gossips.
St. Dunstan's was quite full, for Mr. Chaskin was the preacher, and his sermons were always worth hearing. He was a tall, well-built man, with an earnest, clean-shaven face; and as he walked in at the tail of the choir-boys a suspicion of his former military vocation could be seen in the swing of his stride. With certain alterations consequent on the Reformation, he had exchanged the sword for the cowl, like some warrior of mediaeval times. He was as earnest a clergyman as he had been a soldier; and had won golden opinions from one and all since his arrival at Barnstead.
During the earlier part of the service Milly, according to custom, looked round the church, and prayed with the lips rather than the heart. In the almost conventual gloom--for the summer twilight filtered but dimly through the stained-glass of the windows--she noted her friends and acquaintances, and particularly her lover. He was seated in a distant aisle near a pillar, but could see her plainly enough, and several times during the service they exchanged glances. Miss Clyde was there, in the company of Mrs. Drass, but being near the front of the building, they could not see Lucas. Had they been placed so as to observe him, Milly would have been more discreet in her glances; but, feeling safe from observation, she indulged in as many as she pleased. If Iris noted her looks, she made no sign; for she looked at her prayer-book constantly.