“But these things grow upon one,” said Salis dismally.
“Nonsense, dear; you must have some relaxation. See what a slave you are to the parish—and to me.”
“Why, that’s my relaxation,” he said tenderly. “But really, dear, it almost seems as if he wants to drive me to resign.”
“Well, Hartley,” said Mary sadly, “if it must be so we will go. Surely there are hundreds of parishes where my brother would be welcome.”
“But how could I leave my people here? My dear Mary, I have grown so used to Duke’s Hampton that I believe it would break my heart to go.”
“And mine,” said Mary to herself, “if it be not already broken.”
“I must answer the letter, I suppose,” said Salis dolefully, “and promise to amend my ways.”
“Is it not bed-time, Hartley?” said Leo, with a yawn.
“Bless my soul, yes,” cried the curate, glancing at his watch. “Time does go so when one is talking.”
“I’m very tired,” said Leo. “It has been an anxious day.”