Lord, for a hypocrite who robbed harmless women under the cloak of
punishing them for sins they'd never committed (for they say, sir,
he went up to court, and slandered the nuns there for drunkards and
worse). And she told him, "That the curse of the nuns of Whitford
should be on him and his, till they helped the poor in the spirit of
the nuns of Whitford, and the Nun-pool ran up to Ashy Down.'"

'That time is not come yet,' said Lancelot.

'But the worst is to come, sir. For he or his, sir, that night,
said or did something to the lady, that was more than woman's heart
could bear: and the next morning she was found dead and cold,
drowned in that weir-pool. And there the gentleman's eldest son was
drowned, and more than one Lavington beside. Miss Argemone's only
brother, that was the heir, was drowned there too, when he was a
little one.'

'I never heard that she had a brother.'

'No, sir, no one talks of it. There are many things happen in the
great house that you must go to the little house to hear of. But
the country-folk believe, sir, that the nun's curse holds true; and
they say, that Whitford folks have been getting poorer and wickeder
ever since that time, and will, till the Nun-pool runs up to Ashy,
and the Lavingtons' name goes out of Whitford Priors.'

Lancelot said nothing. A presentiment of evil hung over him. He
was utterly down-hearted about Tregarva, about Argemone, about the
poor. The truth was, he could not shake off the impression of the
scene he had left, utterly disappointed and disgusted with the
'revel.' He had expected, as I said before, at least to hear
something of pastoral sentiment, and of genial frolicsome humour; to
see some innocent, simple enjoyment: but instead, what had he seen
but vanity, jealousy, hoggish sensuality, dull vacuity? drudges
struggling for one night to forget their drudgery. And yet withal,
those songs, and the effect which they produced, showed that in
these poor creatures, too, lay the germs of pathos, taste, melody,
soft and noble affections. 'What right have we,' thought he, 'to
hinder their development? Art, poetry, music, science,--ay, even
those athletic and graceful exercises on which we all pride
ourselves, which we consider necessary to soften and refine
ourselves, what God has given us a monopoly of them?--what is good
for the rich man is good for the poor. Over-education? And what of
that? What if the