mrs. fitzherbert had fixed half-past eight for the hour of dinner, but canon spratte, anxious for a few words before any one arrived, came early. he found her ready to receive him. when he entered the drawing-room she was at the window, looking at the dusk which clothed the london street in a certain atmosphere of charming mystery.

“well?” he said, looking at her and taking both her hands.

“i’m glad you came before the others, i wanted to have a chat with you.”

“it was cruel of you to leave london so suddenly. you can’t imagine how eagerly i’ve wished to see you.”

“i’m afraid it was inevitable,” she answered. “my friend is still very ill, and i only came up this evening because i didn’t want to put my party off.”

“i was hoping you’d come up to see me,” he smiled.

“in point of fact it was only to see you,” she laughed. “i would have postponed the rest of them gaily, but i think we have a good deal to say to one another.”

“i feel immensely flattered,” he replied.

the evening papers contained an official announcement that dr. gray was appointed to the bishopric of barchester; but canon spratte determined that none should see his bitter disappointment. he had not yet fought down the sense of humiliation with which lord stonehenge’s offer overwhelmed him, nor was he reconciled to remaining a london vicar. but he refused to think of his frustrated hopes. he flattered himself on his strength of character, and the world should imagine that he was in the best of spirits. he meant to keep himself well in hand, and in the decided effort to let no one see that he cared, began really to regain his self-esteem.

“i think we really ought to talk seriously,” said mrs. fitzherbert after a pause, fixing her quiet eyes upon him. “i wonder if you meant all that you said to me the other night?”

“of course i meant it, every word of it, with all my heart,” he cried, emphatically. “do you think i’m a boy not to know my own mind?”

“and you really look upon yourself as solemnly engaged to me?”

“i do indeed, and before many weeks are up i mean to lead you to the altar. we’ll have the bishop to marry us, and tom shall lend us beachcombe for our honeymoon. or would you prefer homburg and the italian lakes?”

“you know, i shouldn’t be at all annoyed if you told me you were carried away the other night and said more than you intended. you’re a susceptible man and there’s something about a dance that rushes the least emotional off their feet. i think half the unhappy marriages are caused by the proposing of young men when they’ve come to the end of their small talk; and their cowardice next day which prevents them from writing to say they made a mistake.”

“but it was no sudden whim on my part,” he exclaimed. “the idea had been growing in my mind for months. ah, why can’t i make you believe that love may spring up in a man’s heart even though his hair is strewn with silver? i tell you i’m passionately devoted to you, and i insist on marrying you.”

mrs. fitzherbert smiled and looked at him strangely. he was very gallant and very eager. she wondered if there were ever a word of sincerity in anything he said.

“then let us talk business,” she answered.

he threw up his hands in a gesture of disdain.

“why should we? you know i’m not mercenary; let us pretend that no tiresome matters have to be discussed. we can leave it all to our solicitors.”

“but it’s very important.”

“nonsense! nothing’s important except that you’re the most charming woman i’ve ever seen in my life. i’m a lucky dog to have got hold of you. we’ll never grow any older than we are now; we’ll only grow younger year by year. when will you make me the happiest man in london?”

“you go so quickly,” she smiled.

he put his arm round her waist and seized her hand.

“come, give me a kiss.” she positively blushed when he took it without more ado. “upon my soul, you make me feel a perfect stripling. shall we say in six weeks? that will bring us to the end of the season, and i can safely leave lionel to preach to a regiment of empty pews.”

“for heaven’s sake sit down quietly, and let me get a word in.”

“not till you’ve agreed. i won’t let you go till you’ve fixed the day.”

“you shall fix the day yourself,” she cried, extricating herself from his embrace.

canon spratte, with a laugh of triumph, threw himself into a comfortable chair. he was excited and restless. he knew he had never looked handsomer than at this moment, and he would not have changed places with a guardsman of twenty-five.

“what i wanted to tell you is that i have an income of five thousand a year,” said mrs. fitzherbert.

“i cannot bear these gross and sordid details,” he answered, with a wave of the hand. “of course it shall be settled absolutely upon you. what more is there to be said?”

“only that it ceases on the day i marry again.”

canon spratte started and for a moment his face fell.

“all of it?” he asked.

“every penny. my husband was a very generous man, but he had apparently no desire to provide for the wants of his successor. on my second marriage everything i have, the very furniture of this house, goes to a distant cousin of his.”

she watched the canon for the effect of this blow, and she could not deny that he took it admirably.

“i’m very glad,” he said. “i much prefer to provide for your wants myself. i shouldn’t like to think you were living on another man’s income.”

“do you realize that i shall be so penniless, you will even have to provide the clothes for my back and my very fare when i take the tube?”

“it will only make you more precious to me.”

the doors were swung open and the butler announced the first arrivals, mrs. fitzherbert stepped forward to greet them. ten minutes later the whole party was seated round the dinner-table.

canon spratte was filled with consternation. it was true that he had not sought to marry mrs. fitzherbert for her money, but on the other hand the idea would never have come to him except that he knew she had a handsome income. it had never entered his head that she might hold it on such preposterous terms, and the blow was terrible. the lord chancellor had been able to leave him nothing. the bulk of his fortune went of necessity to his successor in the title and the rest to lady sophia, who announced her determination to lead a single life. st. gregory’s was worth a certain amount and the canonry something more, but this from the depreciation of land was slowly diminishing. he had always spent every penny he earned. his children had three hundred a year each, but they were to be married and would naturally take the money with them. lionel was paid nothing for acting as his father’s curate, but he might soon get a living and another expense would ensue. lady sophia had contributed a good deal to the household cost of the vicarage, but would of course make her home elsewhere when the canon brought home a legitimate mistress. he did not see how on earth he could make both ends meet. mrs. fitzherbert, far from making up richly for all he lost, would be a source of vast expenditure. it would be necessary to give up the carriage and the horses of which he was so proud. every cab that his wife took would be a shilling out of his pocket. a little while before canon spratte had ventured on a small flutter in the stock exchange, and the shares were not rising with the rapidity his broker had promised. this had seemed a bagatelle, but now grew suddenly into a matter of importance. the canon’s heart sank. he looked at mrs. fitzherbert; and the gown which he had admired on his entrance appeared very expensive. she had none of the airs of an economical woman, and it would be needful to economize. he loathed the idea of counting each sovereign as he spent it. he liked the large gesture of generosity, and had the reputation of a man who spent his money well. now he must be niggardly.

but above all he felt sold. it had been his consolation in the loss of the bishopric that the widow’s large means, added to his own, would enable him to cut a figure in london. he proposed to entertain lavishly. he wanted to make st. gregory’s vicarage a centre of fashion and intelligence, so that his name should go down to posterity like sydney smith’s as the most brilliant parson of his day. instead he was saddled with a penniless wife.

but not one of these distressing emotions was visible on the canon’s face during dinner. he had never needed his self-control more. perhaps he showed his strength no less admirably than he could have done if, according to his ardent wish, he had been in happier days a great minister of state. the party consisted of eight, which he thought precisely the right number. it was neither so large that the conversation ceased to be general nor so small as to give a good talker an insufficient audience. mrs. fitzherbert noticed with admiration that he had never seemed in better spirits, and took a vow that whatever happened she would certainly remain friendly with him. he was invaluable at a dinner-party. it was only from an occasional look of weariness, quickly driven away, from a metallic, unusual ring in his laughter, that she suspected how great was his effort. he made himself the centre of the table, and he was so vivacious that none wished to question his supremacy. his stories had never been better, and he told them with a gusto that added vastly to their humour. he was never at a loss for a repartee; his sallies and quaint turns kept the party so well entertained that mrs. fitzherbert was radiant. she had never given a more successful dinner, and had the satisfaction of knowing that her guests thoroughly enjoyed themselves. when they thanked her on leaving, it was with a sincerity which she knew was unusual on similar occasions. she felt grateful to canon spratte.

“and now that every one has gone you must sit down and smoke a cigarette, and we’ll have a quiet chat.”

“that’s just what i should like. i’ve got something to say to you.”

“have you? that’s very odd, because i have too.”

he seated himself, and she noticed that for the first time in their acquaintance, he was embarrassed. she looked at him with smiling eyes, but to him they seemed disconcertingly ironic.

“i think we should go back to the conversation we had before dinner,” he said. “would you think it very odd if i made a suggestion?”

he waited for a reply, but she gave none, and he was forced to proceed. there was no doubt about it, he was growing exceedingly nervous.

“well, i suggested then that we should be married in six weeks. i’m afraid it sounds very ungallant if i propose now that we should wait a little.”

“how long?” she asked quietly.

“oh, i don’t know—perhaps a year, two at the utmost. you see, i’m not exactly hard up, but——” he hesitated again, for once in his life at a loss for words. “the fact is i don’t see how we can possibly marry till i get a bishopric. i’m practically certain to get one soon—there’s no one with half the claims i have, and i think i can boast of a certain amount of influence.”

“two years is a long time at our age,” she smiled. “especially for a woman. you know, even now, you’re ever so much younger in spirit than i am; i’m afraid that each day will increase the difference between us.”

he paused for the very shortest space of time.

“of course, if you’d rather marry at once, i shall be only too charmed. it will make me the happiest of men. it was only on your account that i hesitated. i’m afraid that you’ll have to do without a good many of the luxuries that you’re used to.”

“it’s very thoughtful of you,” she murmured.

“i’m afraid we shan’t be able to have a carriage.”

“you know, i adore riding on ’buses,” she answered, with twinkling eyes. “one sits on the front seat and talks to the driver.”

“and then i’m afraid there’ll be no more little trips to homburg in the summer or to the riviera in the winter.”

“when all’s said and done is there any place in the world so comfortable as london?”

“it’s charming to think that you’re so easily satisfied.”

she watched him thoughtfully, while he sought to conceal behind a gallant smile a considerable feeling of dismay.

“are you sure you wouldn’t rather break off altogether our short engagement?” she asked, suddenly.

“nothing would induce me,” he cried, with the utmost emphasis. “do you imagine that anything you have said makes you less precious to me? you cannot think so badly of me as to suppose that i no longer wish to marry you, because you are not rich.”

“you’re an ambitious man, and an opulent wife might have been of great use to you: a poor one can only be a drawback.”

“you pain me very much,” he answered. “i confess i think it would be wise to delay our union, but it would break my heart to put aside all thought of it.”

“oh, i don’t think your heart is such a fragile organ as that. let us be frank with one another. i venture to flatter myself that you did not want to marry me because of my money, but it’s obvious that a well-regulated passion is not diminished because an attractive widow has five thousand a year. it’s very comprehensible that you shouldn’t wish to marry a pauper.”

“i flatter myself on the other hand that i’m by way of being a gentleman.”

“shall we say no more about it? shall we forget that you murmured various things the other night which you didn’t quite mean?”

mrs. fitzherbert knew that she was very cruel. it was plain that he wished with all his might to accept his release. he suffered the torture of tantalus, for escape lay within his easy reach, and he had not the effrontery to take it. he was a man who lived for the noble gesture, and he could not bring himself to make one that was uncommonly prosaic.

“i assure you no one shall know anything about it,” she added. “i promise you i will be as silent as the grave.”

he looked at her with an indecision that was almost pitiful.

“if i accepted your suggestion you’d despise me all your life,” he said.

there was something in his tone that made mrs. fitzherbert think she had gone far enough. he was really suffering this time, and she could not bear to see it. she went up to him quickly, and smiling, put her hands on his shoulders.

“my dear man, do you suppose for a moment that i had any intention of marrying you? nothing would have induced me to do it.”

“what do you mean?” he cried.

“i’ve reached an age when i can’t imagine that it would be worth while sacrificing five thousand a year for any man. besides, you’re charming as a friend, but as a husband you’d be quite insufferable. i wouldn’t marry you if i were starving and you had all the wealth of golconda.”

“d’you mean to say you’ve been playing with me all the time?”

“i’m afraid that is precisely what it comes to.”

he drew away from her, and his face took that rather peevish expression of a spoilt child which it sometimes had.

“i think it’s very cruel of you,” he said.

“let us forget all about it. you’re perfectly free and there’s no need whatever for you to marry me. let us be friends. and don’t flirt any more with widow-ladies; they’re dreadfully dangerous.”

“i daresay it’s a very good joke to you, but you’ve exposed me to the most awful humiliation. you ask me to be friends, but i shall never be able to look you in the face again.”

mrs. fitzherbert ceased to smile and her eyes became quite grave.

“shall i tell you a secret that i’ve never divulged to any living soul?” she said. “perhaps you’ll understand why i couldn’t resist the chance you gave me. i daresay you’ve forgotten that five-and-twenty years ago we used to see a great deal of one another. perhaps you never knew that i was so desperately in love with you then that i would have married you if you hadn’t a penny in the world, and i would have been glad to scrub the floors you walked on.”

the canon started and was about to speak. but with a little laugh she stopped him.

“oh, please don’t make any observation yet. even now it makes me feel rather silly to speak about it. i daresay you flirted with a good many other girls as much as you did with me, but i was foolish enough to think you cared for me. and i thought you meant to ask me to marry you. then you met dorothy frampstone, and you married her instead. well, it’s very possible that she was much nicer than i, but you mustn’t be surprised if my vanity leads me to think there were much more solid reasons. i have an idea you transferred your affections to her chiefly because she had six hundred a year while i was penniless, and she was the daughter of a peer of the realm while i was nobody in particular.”

“you do me an injustice,” he murmured.

“anyhow it doesn’t matter, it’s all very long ago. the important thing is that i did love you then really, so if i’ve made you feel a little ridiculous now, it’s only tit for tat.”

she held out her hand, smiling, and he warmly grasped it.

“you’re a wonderful woman, and i was a fool five-and-twenty years ago. the fates have been against me all along.”

“and now good-night,” she laughed. “it’s growing late, and it’s really very compromising for a lone, lorn widow to remain so long en tête-à-tête with a fascinating person like yourself.”

“good-night, then.”

he bent down, and with the utmost grace kissed her hand. when he left her mrs. fitzherbert quietly smiled.

“i thank my stars i am a lone, lorn woman, and unless i become a perfect lunatic i’ll take care to remain one.”