“It has come to this,” interrupted Darden, with an oath:  “that this Governor means to sweep in the corners; that the Commissary—­damned Scot!—­to-day appointed a committee to inquire into the charges made against me and Bailey and John Worden; that seven of my vestrymen are dead against me; and that ‘deprivation’ has suddenly become a very common word!”

“Seven of the vestry?” said his wife, after a pause.  “Who are they?”

Darden told her.

“If Mr. Haward”—­she began slowly, her green eyes steady upon the situation.  “There’s not one of that seven would care to disoblige him.  I warrant you he could make them face about.  They say he knew the Governor in England, too; and there’s his late gift to the college,—­the Commissary wouldn’t forget that.  If Mr. Haward would”—­She broke off, and with knit brows studied the problem more intently.

“If he would, he could,” Darden finished for her.  “With his interest this cloud would go by, as others have done before.  I know that, Deborah.  And that’s the card I’m going to play.”

“If you had gone to him, hat in hand, a month ago, he’d have done you any favor,” said his helpmate sourly.  “But it is different now.  He’s over his fancy; and besides, he’s at Westover.”

“He’s in Williamsburgh, at Marot’s ordinary,” said the other.  “As for his being over his fancy,—­I’ll try that.  Fancy or no fancy, if a woman asked him for a fairing, he would give it her, or I don’t know my gentleman.  We’ll call his interest a ribbon or some such toy, and Audrey shall ask him for it.”

“Audrey is a fool!” cried Mistress Deborah.  “And you had best be careful, or you’ll prove yourself another!  There’s been talk enough already.  Audrey, village innocent that she is, is the only one that doesn’t know it.  The town’s not the country; if he sets tongues a-clacking here”—­

“He won’t,” said Darden roughly.  “He’s no hare-brained one-and-twenty!  And Audrey’s a good girl.  Go send her here, Deborah.  Bid her fetch me Stagg’s inkhorn and a pen and a sheet of paper.  If he does anything for me, it will have to be done quickly.  They’re in haste to pull me out of saddle, the damned canting pack!  But I’ll try conclusions with them!”

His wife departed, muttering to herself, and the reverend Gideon pulled out of his capacious pocket a flask of usquebaugh.  In five minutes from the time of his setting it to his lips the light in which he viewed the situation turned from gray to rose color.  By the time he espied Audrey coming toward him through the garden he felt a moral certainty that when he came to die (if ever he died) it would be in his bed in the Fair View glebe house.

CHAPTER XVII

WITHIN THE PLAYHOUSE