r confidence. She has always had a life apart
from mine. The people in the village, all so far below us in every way,
have been to me acquaintances, and only that; but they have been her
world, and she has seen no other. She is a kind, affectionate daughter,
but she would be as good a daughter to any of the farmers round as she
is to me. She is not a lady. That is the truth. God help the man who
brings up a daughter without a wife."

"You do her injustice, my friend," said the Doctor. "I understand what
you mean, but you do her injustice. All the female society she has ever
seen, before Mrs. Buckley and your sister came here, was of a rank
inferior to herself, and she has taken her impressions from that
society to a great extent. But still she is a lady; compare her to any
of the other girls in the parish, and you will see the difference."

"Yes, yes, that is true," said the Vicar. "You must think me a strange
man to speak so plainly about my own daughter, Doctor, and to you, too,
whom I have known so short a time. But one must confide in somebody,
and I have seen your discretion manifested so often that I trust you."

They had arrived opposite the Vicar's gate, but the Doctor, resisting
all the Vicar's offers of breakfast, declined to go in. He walked
homeward toward his cottage-lodgings, and as he went he mused to
himself somewhat in this style,--

"What a good old man that is. And yet how weak. I used to say to myself
when I first knew him, what a pity that a man with such a noble
intellect should be buried in a country village, a pastor to a lot of
ignorant hinds. And yet he is fit for nothing else, with all his
intelligence, and all his learning. He has no go in him,--no back to
his head. Contrast him with Buckley, and see the difference. Now
Buckley, without being a particularly clever man, sees the right thing,
and goes at it through fire and water. But our old Vicar sees the
right, and leaves it to take care of itself. He can't manage his own
family even. That girl is a fine girl, a very fine girl. A good deal of
character about her. But her animal passions are so strong that she
would be a Tartar for anyone to manage. She will be too much for the
Vicar. She will marry that man in the end. And if he don't use her
properly, she'll hate him as much as she loves him now. She is more
like an Italian than an English girl. Hi! there's a noble Rhamnea!"

The Vicar went into his house, and found no one up but the ma