oung, and it was hard to live shut
up within himself without any sympathy either from man or woman. He
had watched the grey cloak gliding out as his rude congregation
dispersed, and went away quicker than was his wont, with a stronger
longing than usual to overtake Lucy, and recover his place beside her.
But she was not to be seen when he got into Prickett's Lane. He looked
up the weary length of the street, and saw nothing but the children
playing on the pavement, and some slovenly mothers at the doors. It
was a very disenchanting prospect. He went on again in a kind of
gloomy discontent, displeased with everything. What was the good of it
all? he said to himself--weariness, and toil, and trouble, and nothing
ever to come of it. As for the little good he was doing in Wharfside,
God did not need his poor exertions; and, to tell the truth, going on
at St Roque's, however perfect the rubric and pretty the church, was,
without any personal stimulant of happiness, no great prospect for the
Perpetual Curate. Such was the tenor of his thoughts, when he saw a
black figure suddenly emerge out of one of the houses, and stand at
the door, throwing a long shadow over the pavement. It was the Rector
who was standing there in Mr Wentworth's favourite district, talking
to a shopkeeper who had always been on the opposition side. The young
Anglican raised his drooping head instantly, and recovered his
interest in the general world.

"Glad to see you, Mr Wentworth," said the Rector. "I have been
speaking to this worthy man about the necessities of the district. The
statistics are far from being satisfactory. Five thousand souls, and
no provision for their spiritual wants; it is a very sad state of
affairs. I mean to take steps immediately to remedy all that."

"A bit of a Methody chapel, that's all," said the opposition shopkeeper;
"and the schoolroom, as Mr Wentworth--"

"Yes, I have heard of that," said the Rector, blandly;--somebody had
advised Mr Morgan to change his tactics, and this was the first
evidence of the new policy--"I hear you have been doing what little
you could to mend matters. It is very laudable zeal in so young a man.
But, of course, as you were without authority, and had so little in
your power, it could only be a very temporary expedient. I am very
much obliged to you for your good intentions."

"I beg your pardon," said the Perpetual Curate, rousing up as at the
sound of the trumpet, "I don't care in the leas