me, if it is very nice, to No. 10 Prickett's Lane. My boy will take it;
and send him off directly, please," with which last commission the young
man went up despairingly to his bedroom to prepare himself for this
interview with his aunts. What was he to do? Already before him, in
dreadful prophetic vision, he saw all three seated in one of the
handsome open benches in St Roque's, looking indescribable horrors at
the crown of spring lilies which Lucy's own fingers were to weave for
the cross above the altar, and listening to the cadence of his own manly
tenor as it rang through the perfect little church of which he was so
proud. Yes, there was an end of Skelmersdale, without any doubt or
question now; whatever hope there might have been, aunt Dora had settled
the matter by this last move of hers--an end to Skelmersdale, and an end
of Lucy. Perhaps he had better try not to see her any more; and the poor
young priest saw that his own face looked ghastly as he looked at it in
the glass. It gave him a little comfort to meet the boy with a bundle
pinned up in snowy napkins, from which a grateful odour ascended,
bending his steps to Prickett's Lane, as he himself went out to meet his
fate. It was a last offering to that beloved "district" with which the
image of his love was blended; but he would have given his dinner to
Lucy's sick woman any day. To-night it was a greater sacrifice that was
to be required of him. He went mournfully and slowly up Grange Lane,
steeling himself for the encounter, and trying to forgive aunt Dora in
his heart. It was not very easy. Things might have turned out just the
same without any interference--that was true; but to have it all brought
on in this wanton manner by a kind foolish woman, who would wring her
hands and gaze in your face, and want to know, Oh! did you think it was
her fault? after she had precipitated the calamity, was very hard; and
it was with a very gloomy countenance, accordingly, that the Curate of
St Roque's presented himself at the Blue Boar.

The Miss Wentworths were in the very best sitting-room which the Blue
Boar contained--the style in which they travelled, with a man and two
maids, was enough to secure that; and the kitchen of that respectable
establishment was doing its very best to send up a dinner worthy of "a
party as had their own man to wait." The three ladies greeted their
nephew with varying degrees of enthusiasm. The eldest, Miss Wentworth,
from whom he took hi