2. THE THIRD OF MARCHHer convalescence had arrived at this point on a certain evening
towards the end of the winter, when Owen had come in from the
building hard by, and was changing his muddy boots for slippers,
previously to sitting down to toast and tea.
A prolonged though quiet knocking came to the door.
The only person who ever knocked at their door in that way was
the new vicar, the prime mover in the church-building. But he was
that evening dining with the Squire.
Cytherea was uneasy at the sound—she did not know why, unless it
was because her nerves were weakened by the sickness she had
undergone. Instead of opening the door she ran out of the room, and
upstairs.
'What nonsense, Cytherea!' said her brother, going to the
door.
Edward Springrove stood in the grey light
