pass that he could not address her in an ordinary and proper way like
other people, but, because he dared not yet call her by her Christian
name as if she belonged to him, had a strange rude way of indicating
when he was speaking to her, by emphasis and action. It was singularly
different from his usual good-breeding; but Lucy somehow rather liked
it than otherwise. "He is not going to church for the sake of the
service. He is going to please _you_. He has never forgotten what you
did for that little boy of his; and, indeed, if you continue to go on
so," said Mr Wentworth, lowering his voice, and more than ever bending
his tall head to one side, "I shall have to put a stop to it somehow,
for I am not prepared, whatever people say, to go in at once for
_public_ worship of the saints."

"I am going in here to call," said Lucy. She looked up very innocently
in the Curate's face. "I promised the poor sick woman in the back room
to see her every day, and I could not get out any sooner. I daresay I
shall be at the schoolroom before you begin. Good-bye just now," said
the young Sister of Mercy. She went off all at once on this provoking
but unexceptionable errand, looking with calm eyes upon the dismay
which overspread the expressive countenance of her spiritual guide. Mr
Wentworth stood looking after her for a moment, stunned by the
unexpected movement. When he went on, truth compels us to own that a
thrill of disgust had taken the place of that vague general sense of
beatitude which threw beauty even upon Prickett's Lane. The Curate
gave but a sulky nod to the salutation of Tom Burrows, and walked on
in a savage mood by the side of Miss Wodehouse, around whom no nimbus
of ideal glory hovered.

"I am always afraid of its being too much for her, Mr Wentworth," said
the anxious elder sister; "it upsets me directly; but then I never was
like Lucy--I can't tell where all you young people have learned it; we
never used to be taught so in my day; and though I am twice as old as
she is, I know I am not half so much good in the world," said the kind
soul, with a gentle sigh. "I should like to see you in a parish of
your own, where you would have it all your own way. I hope Mr Morgan
won't be meddling when he comes to have time for everything. I should
almost think he would--though it seems unkind to say it--by his face."

"I am doing nothing more than my duty," said the Perpetual Curate, in
morose tones. "This district was given