There was only one visitor who ever called
at the Vicarage in anything approaching to state. Her visits usually
occurred about twice a year, and possessed something of the nature of a
Royal favour. This was Lady Caryl, the Lady of the Manor, in whose gift
the living lay.
This lady had always shown a marked preference for the vicar's second
daughter.
"Mary Neville," she would remark to her friends, "is severely handicapped
by circumstance, but she will make her mark in spite of it. Her beauty is
extraordinary, and I cannot believe that Providence has destined her for
a farmer's wife."
It was on a foggy afternoon at the end of November that Lady Caryl's
carriage turned in at the Vicarage gates for the second state call of the
year.
Molly received the visitor alone. Her mother was upstairs with a
bronchial attack.
Lady Caryl, handsome, elderly, and aristocratic, entered the shabby
drawing-room with her most gracious air. She sat and talked for a while
upon various casual subjects. Molly poured out the tea and responded with
her usual cheery directness. Lady Caryl did not awe her. Her father was
wont to remark that Molly was impudent as a robin and brave as a lion.
After a slight pause in the conversation Lady Caryl turned from parish
affairs with an abruptness somewhat characteristic of her, but by no
means impetuous.
"Did you ever chance to meet Earl Wyverton, my dear Mary?" she inquired.
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