Again she turned to her companion with the question, "What can be done?"
"I hardly know," was the reply. "I shall consult my father; but, meanwhile, is there no one to whom you could confide the story who might influence Lewis? I believe that if he would promise to begin a new course of life, Dr. Ashby, for his father's sake, would hush up the matter and give him a chance."
Priscilla thought a moment, then said, "I shall go to the vicar and ask his advice; he is a kind friend, and likes the boys."
"That will be well, Miss Warner; and in the meantime I will do what I can."
"Many thanks," said Priscilla, and turned off, taking the road which led to the vicarage.
A cloud had indeed fallen on her; the bright spring morning had lost its brightness for her, and her conscience was bitterly reproaching her.
The vicarage stood in the midst of rich meadow-ground, and in summer was over-canopied by leafy trees. In front was a carefully-kept flower-garden, and at the back a well-stocked orchard sloped down to the river. From the garden, the vicar saw the girl approaching, and went to the gate to bid her welcome. He had a warm heart to Harry's friends, the young people at the Grove.
"Thrice welcome," he said, "Miss Priscilla. How is Dr. Warner? Nothing wrong, is there?" he added, as he remarked the shade on the girl's face.
Then Priscilla told her tale, owned her own fault, confessed how far short she had fallen of her duties regarding her brothers, and told also of Harry's warning as he bade her farewell.
The old man listened attentively as she poured out the tale, interrupting her now and then by exclamations of sympathy or disapproval.