two figures like those of the Miss
Wodehouses going into one of these houses, and was making a little haste
to escape meeting those enemies of his peace. But as he wont hastily on,
he heard sobs and screams--sounds which a man who hid a good heart under
a shy exterior could not willingly pass by. He made a troubled pause
before the door from which these outcries proceeded, and while he stood
thus irresolute whether to pass on or to stop and inquire the cause,
some one came rushing out and took hold of his arm. "Please, sir, she's
dying--oh, please, sir, she thought a deal o' you. Please, will you come
in and speak to her?" cried the little servant-girl who had pounced
upon him so. The Rector stared at her in amazement. He had not his
prayer-book--he was not prepared; he had no idea of being called upon in
such an emergency. In the mean time the commotion rather increased in
the house, and he could hear in the distance a voice adjuring some one
to go for the clergyman. The Rector stood uncertain and perplexed,
perhaps in a more serious personal difficulty than had ever happened to
him all his life before. For what did he know about deathbeds? or what
had he to say to any one on that dread verge? He grew pale with real
vexation and distress.

"Have they gone for a doctor? that would be more to the purpose," he
said, unconsciously, aloud.

"Please, sir, it's no good," said the little maid-servant. "Please, the
doctor's been, but he's no good--and she's unhappy in her mind, though
she's quite resigned to go: and oh, please, if you would say a word to
her, it might do her a deal of good."

Thus adjured, the Rector had no choice. He went gloomily into the house
and up the stair after his little guide. Why did not they send for the
minister of Salem Chapel close by? or for Mr Wentworth, who was
accustomed to that sort of thing? Why did they resort to him in such an
emergency? He would have made his appearance before the highest magnates
of the land--before the Queen herself--before the bench of bishops or
the Privy Council--with less trepidation than he entered that poor
little room.

The sufferer lay breathing heavily in the poor apartment. She did not
look very ill to Mr Proctor's inexperienced eyes. Her colour was bright,
and her face full of eagerness. Near the door stood Miss Wodehouse,
looking compassionate but helpless, casting wistful glances at the bed,
but standing back in a corner as confused and embarrassed as