place, feeling that all her actions were watched by the villagers and duly commented upon by them, had made her even more careful than she was by nature.  It would be very unwise to bring about a scene with Mrs. Goddard unless she were very sure of the result.  Mrs. Goddard was hardly a friend.  In Mrs. Ambrose’s opinion an acquaintance of two years and a half standing involving almost daily meetings and the constant exchange of civilities did not constitute friendship.  Nevertheless the vicar’s wife would have been ashamed to own that after such long continued intercourse she was wholly ignorant of Mrs. Goddard’s real character; especially as the latter had requested the vicar to tell Mrs. Ambrose her story when she first appeared at Billingsfield.  Moreover, as her excitement at the victory she had gained over her husband began to subside, she found herself reviewing mentally the events of the last few days.  She remembered distinctly that John had perpetually pursued Mrs. Goddard, and that although the latter seemed to find him agreeable enough, she had never to Mrs. Ambrose’s knowledge given him any of those open encouragements in the way of smiles and signals, which in the good lady’s mind were classified under the term “flirting.”  Mrs. Ambrose’s ideas of flirtation may have been antiquated; thirty years of Billingsfield in the society of the Reverend Augustin had not contributed to their extension; but, on the whole, they were just.  Mrs. Goddard had not flirted with John.  It is worthy of notice that in proportion as the difficulties she would enter upon by demanding an explanation from Mrs. Goddard seemed to grow in magnitude, she gradually arrived at the conclusion that it was John’s fault.  Half an hour ago, in the flush of triumph she had indignantly denied that anything could be John’s fault.  She now resolved to behave to him with great austerity.  Such an occurrence as his falling in love could not be passed over with indifference.  It seemed best that he should leave Billingsfield very soon.

John thought so too.  Existence would not be pleasant now that the vicar knew his secret, and he cursed the folly and curiosity which had led him to betray himself in order to find out whether Mr. Juxon thought of marrying Mrs. Goddard.  He had now resolved to return to Cambridge at once and to work his hardest until the Tripos was over.  He would then come back to Billingsfield and, with his honours fresh upon him and the prospect of immediate success before him, he would throw himself at Mrs. Goddard’s feet.  But of course he must have one farewell interview.  Oh, those farewell interviews!  Those leave-takings, wherein often so much is taken without leave!