"And here comes that beautiful relative of mine," continued Roland, as
he and Mr. Huntley passed the cathedral entrance, and turned into the
west quadrangle of the cloisters. "Would you credit it, Mr. Huntley,
that he has turned out a sneak? He has. He was to have married
Constance Channing, you know, and, for fear Arthur should have touched
the note, he has declared off it. If I were Constance, I would never
allow the fellow to speak to me again."
Apparently it was the course Mr. Roland himself intended to observe. As
the Rev. Mr. Yorke, who was coming in to service, drew near, Roland
strode on, his step haughty, his head in the air, which was all the
notice he vouchsafed to take. Probably the minor canon did not care
very much for Mr. Roland's notice, one way or the other; but his eye
lighted with pleasure at the sight of Mr. Huntley, and he advanced to
him, his hand outstretched.
But Mr. Huntley--a man given to show in his manner his likes and
dislikes--would not see the hand, would not stop at all, but passed Mr.
Yorke with a distant bow. That gentleman had fallen pretty deeply in
his estimation, since he had heard of the rupture with Constance
Channing. Mr. Yorke stood for a moment as if petrified, and then strode
on his way with a step as haughty as Roland's.
Roland burst into a glow of delight. "That's the way to serve him, Mr.
Huntley! I hope he'll get cut by every good man in Helstonleigh.
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