I have said that few or none in the immediate neighbourhood of Hamley, beside their own household and Mr. Ness, knew of Ellinor’s engagement.  At one of the rare dinner-parties to which she accompanied her father—­it was at the old lady’s house who chaperoned her to the assemblies—­she was taken in to dinner by a young clergyman staying in the neighbourhood.  He had just had a small living given to him in his own county, and he felt as if this was a great step in his life.  He was good, innocent, and rather boyish in appearance.  Ellinor was happy and at her ease, and chatted away to this Mr. Livingstone on many little points of interest which they found they had in common:  church music, and the difficulty they had in getting people to sing in parts; Salisbury Cathedral, which they had both seen; styles of church architecture, Ruskin’s works, and parish schools, in which Mr. Livingstone was somewhat shocked to find that Ellinor took no great interest.  When the gentleman came in from the dining-room, it struck Ellinor, for the first time in her life, that her father had taken more wine than was good for him.  Indeed, this had rather become a habit with him of late; but as he always tried to go quietly off to his own room when such had been the case, his daughter had never been aware of it before, and the perception of it now made her cheeks hot with shame.  She thought that everyone must be as conscious of his altered manner and way of speaking as she was, and after a pause of sick silence, during which she could not say a word, she set to and talked to Mr. Livingstone about parish schools, anything, with redoubled vigour and apparent interest, in order to keep one or two of the company, at least, from noticing what was to her so painfully obvious.

The effect of her behaviour was far more than she had intended.  She kept Mr. Livingstone, it is true, from observing her father, but she also riveted his attention on herself.  He had thought her very pretty and agreeable during dinner:  but after dinner he considered her bewitching, irresistible.  He dreamed of her all night, and wakened up the next morning to a calculation of how far his income would allow him to furnish his pretty new parsonage with that crowning blessing, a wife.  For a day or two he did up little sums, and sighed, and thought of Ellinor, her face listening with admiring interest to his sermons, her arm passed into his as they went together round the parish; her sweet voice instructing classes in his schools—­turn where he would, in his imagination Ellinor’s presence rose up before him.