“To-morrow is Sunday,” Mark briefly replied, “and I am going to church.”
“To church!” exclaimed every other voice in the cottage, in a tone of as much surprise as if he had said that he was going to prison. Except Ann, in better days, not one of the party had ever crossed the threshold of a church.
“Well, if ever!” exclaimed Jack; “why on earth do you go there?”
“I go because I think it right to do so, and because I think that it will help me on my way.”
“And what will you do when you get there?” laughed Ben.
Ann, who, by dint of searching in a most disorderly box, filled with a variety of odds and ends, had drawn forth first thread and then needle, stretched out her hand towards Mark. “Give me your jacket, I will mend it,” said she.
“Oh, thank you, how kind!” he cried, pulling it off, pleased with an offer as unexpected as it was unusual.
“I think,” said Madge, “that the shirt wants mending worse than the jacket; under that hole on the shoulder I can see the red mark quite plainly.”
“Be silent, and don’t talk nonsense!” cried Ann, impatiently.
The children glanced at each other, and were silent.
“Are you going to the near church by the wood?” said Ann.
“No,” replied Mark; “I have two reasons for going to Marshdale, though it is six or seven miles off. I would rather not go where—where I am known; and judging from the direction in which his carriage was driven, I think that I should have a better chance at Marshdale of hearing Mr. Ewart.”
“Hearing whom?” exclaimed Ann, almost dropping her work, whilst the blood rushed up to her face.
“Mr. Ewart, the clergyman who has been so kind, the tutor to Lord Fontonore.”
“Lord Fontonore! does he live here?” cried Ann, almost trembling with excitement as she spoke.
“I do not know exactly where he lives. I should think it some way off, as the carriage was put up at the inn. Did you ever see the clergyman, mother?”
“He used to visit at my last place,” replied Ann, looking distressed.
“I think I’ve heard father talk about Lord Fontonore,” said Madge.
“No, you never did,” cried Ann, abruptly.
“But I’m sure of it,” muttered Madge in a sullen tone.
“If you know the clergyman, that’s good luck for us,” said Ben. “I daresay that he’ll give us money if we get up a good story about you; only he’s precious sharp at finding one out. He wanted to pay us a visit.”