Their discomfort was aggravated by the conduct of their
father, whose life now was one long wail over his misfortunes, and who
alternately sought comfort in the Prayer-book and in the decanter for
the ills which had befallen him.
To Laura, however, Tamfield presented one attraction, which was now
about to be taken from her. Their choice of the little country hamlet
as their residence had been determined by the fact of their old
friend, the Reverend John Spurling, having been nominated as the vicar.
Hector Spurling, the elder son, two months Laura's senior, had been
engaged to her for some years, and was, indeed, upon the point of
marrying her when the sudden financial crash had disarranged their
plans. A sub-lieutenant in the Navy, he was home on leave at present,
and hardly an evening passed without his making his way from the
Vicarage to Elmdene, where the McIntyres resided. To-day, however, a
note had reached them to the effect that he had been suddenly ordered on
duty, and that he must rejoin his ship at Portsmouth by the next
evening. He would look in, were it but for half-an-hour, to bid them
adieu.
"Why, where's Hector?" asked Mr. McIntyre, blinking round from side to
side.
"He's not come, father.
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