Rectory, and walked along in deep reverie.

The Rectory hours were early, and he found them at tea: his mother, Rose, and Grace. Grace--Mrs. Akeman by her new name--was spending the evening with them with her baby. The Rector, who had gone out in the afternoon, had not yet returned.

Isaac took his tea and then strolled into the garden. Rose and the baby were making a great noise, and Grace was helping them. It disturbed Isaac in his perplexed thought, and he made a mental vow that if he was ever promoted to a home of his own with babies in it, they should be confined to some top room, out of sight and hearing.

By-and-by, when he was leaning over the gate, looking into the road, Mr.

Hastings came up. Isaac told him that tea was over: but Mr. Hastings said he had taken a cup with one of his parishioners. He had apparently walked home quickly, and he lifted his hat and wiped his brow.

"Glorious weather for the haymaking, Isaac!"

"Is it?" returned Isaac abstractedly.

"_Is it!_" repeated Mr. Hastings. "Where are your senses, boy?"

Isaac laughed and roused himself. "I fear they were buried just then, sir. I was thinking of something that has happened at the Bank to-day. A loss has been discovered."

"A loss?" repeated Mr Hastings. "A loss of what?"

Isaac explained. He dropped his voice to a low tone, and spoke confidentially. They were leaning over the gate side by side. Mr.

Hastings rather liked to take recreative moments there, exchanging a nod and a word with the pa.s.sers-by. At this hour of the evening, however, the road was generally free.

"How can the deeds have gone?" exclaimed Mr. Hastings. As every one else had said.

"I don't know," replied Isaac, breaking off a spray from the hedge, and beginning to bite the thorns. "I suppose it is all right," he presently added.

"Right in what way?" asked Mr. Hastings.

"I suppose George G.o.dolphin's all right, I mean."

The words were as an unknown tongue to Mr. Hastings. He did not fathom them. "You suppose that George G.o.dolphin is all right!" he exclaimed.

"You speak in riddles, Isaac."

"I cannot say I _suspect_ anything wrong, sir; but the doubt has crossed me. It never would have done so, but for George G.o.dolphin's manner."

Mr. Hastings turned his penetrating gaze on his son, "Speak out," said he. "Tell me what you mean."

Isaac did so. He related the circ.u.mstances of the loss; the confused manner he had observed in Mr. George G.o.dolphin, on the visits of Lord Averil, and his reluctance to receive them. One little matter he suppressed: the stolen visit of George to London, and deceit to Maria, relative to it. Isaac did not see what that could have had to do with the loss of the deeds, and his good feeling told him that it was not a pleasant thing to name to his father. Mr. Hastings did not speak for a few minutes.

"Isaac, I see no reasonable grounds for your doubts," he said at length.

"The Bank is too flourishing for that. Perhaps you meant only as to George?"

"I can scarcely tell whether I really meant anything," replied Isaac.

"The doubts arose to me, and I thought I would mention them to you. I dare say my fancy is to blame: it does run riot sometimes."

A silence ensued. Mr. Hastings broke it. "With a keen man of business, such as Mr. Thomas G.o.dolphin, at the head of affairs, George could not go far wrong, I should presume. I think he spends enough on his own score, mark you, Isaac; but that has nothing to do with the prosperity of the Bank."

"Of course not. Unless----"

"Unless what? Why don't you speak out?"

"Because I am not sure of my premises, sir," frankly answered Isaac.

"Unless he were to have become irretrievably embarra.s.sed, and should be using the Bank's funds for his own purposes, I believe I was about to say."

"Pretty blind moles some of you must be, in that case! Could such a thing be done without the cognizance of the house? Of Mr. Hurde and of Thomas G.o.dolphin?"

"Well--no--I don't much think it could," hesitated Isaac, who was not at all certain upon the point. "At any rate, not to any extent. I suppose one of my old crotchets--as Grace, used to call them--has taken possession of me, rendering me absurdly fanciful. I dare say it is all right: except that the deeds are mislaid."

"I dare say it is," acquiesced the Rector. "I should be sorry to think it otherwise--for many reasons. Grace is here, is she not?"

"Grace is here, and Grace's son and heir, making enough noise for ten. I can't think why Grace----"

"What are you taking my name in vain for?" interrupted Grace's own voice. She had come up to them carrying the very son and heir that Isaac had been complaining of: a young gentleman with a bald head, just beginning to exercise his hands in dumb fights; as well as his lungs.

"Papa, mamma says are you not going in to tea?"

Before the Rector could answer, or Isaac extricate his hair from the unconsciously mischievous little hands which had seized upon it by Grace's connivance, there came a gay party of equestrians round the corner of the road. Charlotte Pain, with the two young ladies, her guests; Lady Sarah and Miss Grame, who sometimes hired horses for a ride; and three or four gentlemen. Amongst the latter were George G.o.dolphin and Lord Averil. Lord Averil had met them accidentally and joined their party. He was riding by the side of Charlotte Pain.

"I say, Grace!" hastily exclaimed Isaac, twitching away his head, "take that baby in, out of sight. Look there!"

"Take my baby in!" resentfully spoke Grace. "What for? I am not ashamed to be seen holding it. Keeping only two servants, I must turn nurse sometimes: and people know it. I am not situated as Maria is, with a dozen at her beck and call."

Isaac did not prolong the discussion. He thought if he owned an ugly baby with no hair, he should not be so fond of showing it off. Grace stood her ground, and the baby stood his, and lifted its head and its arms by way of greeting. Isaac wondered that it did not lift its voice as well.

The party exchanged bows as they rode past. George G.o.dolphin--he was riding by the side of Sarah Anne Grame--withdrew his horse from the throng and rode up.

"How are you, Grace? How is the baby?"

"Look at him," returned Grace in answer, holding the gentleman up to him.

"Shall I take him for a ride?" asked George, laughing.

"Not if you paid me his value in gold," answered Grace bluntly.

George's gay blue eyes twinkled. "What may that value be? Your estimation of it, Grace?"

"Never mind," said Grace. "I can tell you that your Bank would not meet it. No, not if all its coffers were filled to the brim."

"I see," observed George: "he is inestimable. Do not set your heart too much upon him, Grace," he continued, his voice changing.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Maria had to lose some, equally dear."

"That is true," said Grace in softened tones. "How is Maria to-day?"

"Quite well, thank you. She went to Ashlydyat this afternoon, and I dare say has remained there. Famous weather for the hay, is it not, sir?" he added to the Rector.

"Couldn't be better," replied Mr. Hastings.

George rode off at a canter. The baby burst into a cry; perhaps that he could not go off at a canter too: and Grace, after a vain attempt to hush him, carried him into the house. The Rector remained, looking over the gate.