and happiness. A marvelling remorseful pity came
to his heart. He could not believe in misery, with Lucy walking softly
in the spring twilight by his side.

"But, Frank, you are not taking any notice of what I say," said Miss
Dora, with something like a suppressed sob. "I don't doubt your sick
people are very important, but I thought you would take _some_
interest. I came down to tell you, all the way by myself."

"My sister would like to call on you, Miss Wentworth," said Lucy,
interposing. "Gentlemen never understand what one says. Perhaps we
could be of some use to you if you are going to settle in Carlingford.
I think she has been a great deal better since she confessed,"
continued the charitable Sister, looking up to the Curate, and, like
him, dropping her voice. "The absolution was such a comfort. Now she
seems to feel as if she could die. And she has so little to live for!"
said Lucy, with a sigh of sympathetic feeling, remorseful too. Somehow
it seemed cruel to feel so young, so hopeful, so capable of happiness,
with such desolation close at hand.

"Not even duty," said the Curate; "and to think that the Church should
hesitate to remove the last barriers out of the way! I would not be a
priest if I were debarred from the power of delivering such a poor
soul."

"Oh, Frank," said Miss Dora, with a long breath of fright and horror,
"_what_ are you saying? Oh, my dear, don't say it over again, I don't
want to hear it! I hope when we are dying we shall all feel what great
great sinners we are," said the poor lady, who, between vexation and
mortification, was ready to cry, "and not think that one is better
than another. Oh, my dear, there is that man again! Do you think it is
safe to meet him in such a lonely road? If he comes across and speaks
to me any more I shall faint," cried poor Miss Dora, whose opinions
were not quite in accordance with her feelings. Mr Wentworth did not
say anything to soothe her, but with his unoccupied hand he made an
involuntary movement towards Lucy's cloak, and plucked at it to bring
her nearer, as the bearded stranger loomed dimly past, looking at the
group. Lucy felt the touch, and wondered and looked up at him in the
darkness. She could not comprehend the Curate's face.

"Are _you_ afraid of him?" she said, with a slight smile; "if it is
only his beard I am not alarmed; and here is papa coming to meet me. I
thought you would have come for me sooner, papa. Has anything
happened?"