She sat motionless, her eyes drooped, her features a little drawn and pale; her thoughts—Rose knew it—in the past.
* * * * *
Flaxman came back from his interview with Dawes, reporting that nothing could have been in better taste or feeling than Dawes's view of the matter. As far as the Rector was concerned—and he had told Mr. Barron so—the story was ridiculous, the mere blunder of a crazy woman; and, for the rest, what had they to do in Upcote with ferreting into other people's private affairs? He had locked up the letter in case it might some time be necessary to hand it to the police, and didn't intend himself to say a word to anybody. If the thing went any further, why of course the Rector must be informed. Otherwise silence was best. He had given a piece of his mind to Mr. Barron and "didn't want to be mixed up in any such business." "As far as I'm concerned, Mr. Flaxman, I'm fighting for the Church and her Creeds—I'm not out for backbiting!"
"Nice man!"—said Rose, with enthusiasm—"Why didn't I ask him to-night!"
"But"—resumed Flaxman—"he warned me that if any letter of the kind got into the hands of a certain Miss Nairn in the village there might be trouble."
"Miss Nairn?—Miss Nairn?" The sisters looked at each other. "Oh, I know—the lady in black we saw in church the day the revolution began—a strange little shrivelled spinster-thing who lives in that house by the post-office. She quarrelled mortally with the Rector last year, because she ill-treated a little servant girl of hers, and the Rector remonstrated."
"Well, she's one of the 'aggrieved.'"
"They seem to be an odd crew! There's the old sea-captain that lives in that queer house with the single yew tree and the boarded-up window on the edge of the Heath. He's one of them. He used to come to church about once a quarter and wrote the Rector interminable letters on the meaning of Ezekiel. Then there's the publican—East—who nearly lost his license last year—he always put it down to the Rector and vowed he'd be even with him. I must say, the church in Upcote seems rather put to it for defenders!"
"In Upcote," corrected Flaxman. "That's because of Meynell's personal hold. Plenty of 'em—quite immaculate—elsewhere. However, Dawes is a perfectly decent, honest man, and grieved to the heart by the Rector's performances."
Catharine had waited silently to hear this remark, and then went away to write a letter.