As it was, the air was thundery and
ominous through all the solemn days of the Holy Week. A consciousness as
of something about to happen overshadowed even the "district," and
attracted the keen observation of the lively spectators at Wharfside.
They were not greatly up in matters of doctrine, nor perhaps did they
quite understand the eloquent little sermon which the Perpetual Curate
gave them on Good Friday in the afternoon, between his own services, by
way of impressing upon their minds the awful memories of the day; but
they were as skilful in the variations of their young evangelist's
looks, and as well qualified to decide upon the fact that there was "a
something between" him and Miss Lucy Wodehouse, as any practised
observer in the higher ranks of society. Whether the two had "'ad an
unpleasantness," as, Wharfside was well aware, human creatures under
such circumstances are liable to have, the interested community could
not quite make out; but that something more than ordinary was going on,
and that the prettiest of all the "Provident ladies" had a certain
preoccupation in her blue eyes, was a fact perfectly apparent to
that intelligent society. And, indeed, one of the kinder matrons in
Prickett's Lane had even ventured so far as to wish Miss Lucy "a 'appy
weddin' when the time comes." "And there's to be a sight o' weddings
this Easter," had added another, who was somewhat scandalised by the
flowers in the bonnet of one of the brides-elect, and proceeded to say
so in some detail. "But Miss Lucy won't wear no bonnet; the quality goes
in veils: and there never was as full a church as there will be to see
it, wishing you your 'ealth and 'appiness, ma'am, as aint no more nor
you deserve, and you so good to us poor folks." All which felicitations
and inquiries had confused Lucy, though she made her way out of them
with a self-possession which amazed her sister.

"You see what everybody thinks, dear," said that gentle woman, when
they had made their escape.

"Oh, Mary, how can you talk of such things at such a time?" the young
Sister of Mercy had answered once more, turning those severe eyes of
youthful devotion upon her troubled elder sister, who, to tell the
truth, not having been brought up to it, as she said, felt much the
same on Easter Eve as at other times of her life; and thus once more
the matter concluded. As for Mr Wentworth, he was much occupied on
that last day of the Holy Week with a great many important