There was plenty of time for full inquiry¹ and full reply between Mrs Ray and Mrs Prime before Rachel opened the cottage door and interrupted them. It was then nearly half past ten. Rachel had never been so late before. The last streak² of the sun’s reflection in the east had vanished, the last ruddy line of evening light had gone, and the darkness of the coming night was upon them. The hour was late for any girl such as Rachel Ray to be out alone.

There had been a long discussion between the mother and the elder daughter; and Mrs Ray, believing implicitly³ in the last announcements made to her, was full of fears for her child. The utmost rigour of self-denying propriety⁴ should have been exercised by Rachel, whereas her conduct had been too dreadful almost to be described. Two or three hours since, Mrs Ray had fondly promised that she would trust her younger daughter, and had let her forth⁵ alone, proud in seeing her so comely⁶ as she went. An idea had almost entered her mind that if the young man was very steady, such an acquaintance might perhaps be not altogether wicked. But everything was changed now. All the happiness of her trust was gone. All her sweet hopes were crushed. Her heart was filled with fear, and her face was pale with sorrow.

“Why should she know where he was to be?” Dorothea had asked. “But he is not at Exeter — he is here, and she was with him.” Then the two had sat gloomily together till Rachel returned. As she came in there was a little forced laugh upon her face. “I am late; am I not?” she said. “Oh, Rachel, very late!” said her mother. “It is half past ten,” said Mrs Prime. “Oh, Dolly, don’t speak with that terrible voice, as though the world were coming to an end,” said Rachel; and she looked up almost savagely⁷, showing what she was resolved to fight.

But it may be as well to say a few words about the firm of Messrs Bungall and Tappitt, about the Tappitt family generally, and about Mr Luke Rowan, before any further portion of the history of that evening is written.

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