Ezra would be down by that time.  On the Saturday before he had arrived between five and six.  A great dread filled her soul at the thought of meeting the young merchant again.  It was merely the natural instinct of a lady shrinking from whatever is rough and coarse and antagonistic.  She had no conception of the impending danger, or of what his coming might mean to her.

Mr. Girdlestone was more gracious to her than usual that morning at breakfast.  He seemed anxious to efface the remembrance of his fierce and threatening words the day before.  Rebecca, who waited upon them, was astonished to hear the way in which he spoke.  His whole manner was less heavy and ungainly than usual, for now that the time for action was at hand he felt braced and invigorated, as energetic men do.

“You should study botany while you are down here,” he said blandly.  “Depend upon it, one cannot learn too many things in one’s youth.  Besides, a knowledge of natural science teaches us the marvellous harmony which prevails throughout the universe, and so enlarges our minds.”

“I should very much like to know something of it,” answered Kate.  “My only fear is that I should not be clever enough to learn it.”

“The wood here is full of wonders.  The tiniest mushroom is as extraordinary and as worthy of study as the largest oak.  Your father was fond of plants and animals.”

“Yes, I can remember that,” said Kate, her face growing sad as her mind travelled back to years gone by.  What would that same father have thought, she wondered, had he known how this man opposite to her had treated her!  What did it matter now, though, when she would so soon be out of his power!

“I remember,” said Girdlestone, stirring his tea thoughtfully, “when we lived in the City as ’prentice lads together, we shared a room above the shop.  He used to have a dormouse that he was very fond of.  All his leisure time was spent in nursing the creature and cleaning its cage.  It seemed to be his only pleasure in life.  One night it was running across the floor, and I put my foot upon it.”

“Oh, poor papa!” cried Kate.

“I did it upon principle.  ’You have devoted too much time to the creature,’ I said.  ‘Raise up your thoughts higher!’ He was grieved and angry, but in time he came to thank me.  It was a useful lesson.”

Kate was so startled by this anecdote that she remained silent for some little time.  “How old were you then?” she asked at last.

“I was about sixteen.”

“Then you were always—­inclined that way?” She found some difficulty in conveying her meaning in polite tones.

“Yes; I received a call when I was very young.  I became one of the elect at an early age.”

“And which are the elect?” his ward asked demurely.

“The members of the Community of the Primitive Trinitarians—­or, at least those of them who frequent Purbrook Street Chapel.  I hold that the ministers in the other chapels that I have attended do not preach the unadulterated Word, and have therefore missed the narrow path.”