Eustace Trevor returned to the inn, but more than once during the following week did the stranger turn his pony's head towards the valley of Ll—— (we will spare our readers a name they perhaps would not be able to read aright); and on Sunday afternoon, he did not fail again to seek the village church, expecting that it would be for the last time—for he purposed departing on the morrow—it not suiting his intentions to remain in any one place so long as to draw down upon himself remark or inquiry.
And perhaps a few weeks more, had he carried out his designs, might have found him a wanderer on a foreign shore. But who can tell what a day may bring forth?
It was early when he arrived at the church, the bells even had not began; and on repairing to a retired part of the church-yard, where a lovely view was to be obtained, he suddenly came in contact with the clergyman who had officiated the previous Sunday.
He bowed to Eustace—who returned the salutation—and passed on with feeble steps, having regarded the stranger somewhat curiously; but scarcely had the latter reached his destined resting-place, when he heard a footstep approaching, and looking round saw the clergyman had returned, and immediately accosted him.
"Sir," speaking with evident difficulty, "I must beg you to excuse the liberty I am taking in thus addressing you; but may I ask—I scarcely dare to hope it to be the case—may I ask," glancing at Eustace's black garb, and the deep crape round his hat, "whether by any chance you are a clergyman?"
Eustace was taken by surprise, but a melancholy smile crossed his features, as he looked and murmured an affirmative.
The inquirer's countenance evidently brightened.
"I conclude, Sir, that you are a stranger in these parts," he rejoined. "I think I saw you here last Sunday—I scarcely know whether you will not think me very bold, when I ask you whether you would be so very obliging as to assist me in the service this afternoon? A friend whom I expected has failed me at the last moment; and you will hear, by my voice, that if I am able to get through a ten minutes' sermon, it will be as much as I can manage."
Eustace Trevor thought so indeed—but the sudden demand upon his services almost bewildered him, and for a moment he was silent. The clergyman looked a little surprised at the apparent hesitation, a perception of which recalled Eustace to recollection.
What right had he to refuse—what excuse could he offer?