Chapter 14

A CLERICAL VISIT.

It was indeed true that the Rev. Arthur Poppleton had spent the greater
part of his afternoon in Miss Belinda Bassett's front parlor, and that
Octavia had entertained him in such a manner that he had been beguiled
into forgetting the clerical visits he had intended to make, and had
finally committed himself by a promise to return a day or two later to
play croquet. His object in calling had been to request Miss Belinda's
assistance in a parochial matter. His natural timorousness of nature had
indeed led him to put off making the visit for as long a time as
possible. The reports he had heard of Miss Octavia Bassett had inspired
him with great dread. Consequently he had presented himself at Miss
Belinda's front door with secret anguish.

"Will you say," he had faltered to Mary Anne, "that it is Mr. Poppleton,
to see _Miss_ Bassett--Miss _Belinda_ Bassett?"

And then he had been handed into the parlor, the door had been closed
behind him, and he had found himself shut up entirely alone in the room
with Miss Octavia Bassett herself.

His first impulse was to turn, and flee precipitately: indeed, he even
went so far as to turn, and clutch the handle of the door; but somehow a
second thought arrived in time to lead him to control himself.

This second thought came with his second glance at Octavia.

She was not at all what he had pictured her. Singularly enough, no one
had told him that she was pretty; and he had thought of her as a gaunt
young person, with a determined and manly air. She struck him, on the
contrary, as being extremely girlish and charming to look upon. She wore
the pale pink gown; and as he entered he saw her give a furtive little
dab to her eyes with a lace handkerchief, and hurriedly crush an open
letter into her pocket. Then, seeming to dismiss her emotion with
enviable facility, she rose to greet him.

"If you want to see aunt Belinda," she said, "perhaps you had better sit
down. She will be here directly." He plucked up spirit to take a seat,
suddenly feeling his terror take wing. He was amazed at his own courage.

"Th-thank you," he said. "I have the pleasure of"--There, it is true, he
stopped, looked at her, blushed, and finished somewhat disjointedly.
"Miss Octavia Bassett, I believe."

"Yes," she answered, and sat down near him.

When Miss Belinda descended the stairs, a short time afterward, her ears
were greeted by the sound of brisk conversation, in which the Rev. Arthur
Poppleton appeared to be taking part with before-unheard-of spirit. When
he arose at her entrance, there was in his manner an air of mild buoyancy
which astonished her beyond