The knot was untied, for just then there was a rustle of silk, and Miss Beatrice swept up over the chiselled slabs, to say, in a stern, uncompromising voice—
“Miss Thorne, my brother, the vicar, wishes to speak with you in the vestry.”
Chapter Six.
The Reverend Henry Lambent.
“I beg your pardon,” said Archibald Graves, rather abruptly; “I spoke to Miss Thorne before church. I think she is engaged to me.”
The eyes of Beatrice Lambent opened with astonishment and she stared at this daring young man, who had the presumption to talk of interposing between the new schoolmistress and the head of the parish. She was evidently about to speak, for her lips moved, but no words came.
It was Hazel who put an end to the unpleasant dilemma.
“I will come at once. Miss Lambent, if you please,” she said respectfully.