was hard. The services were almost
continuous; there was a great deal of visitation to be got through; in
these labours he naturally ran against cases of distress that no human
being could withstand; and he had 60 pounds a year. Moreover, there
were no delicate compensations such as attend the labours of curates in
some more favoured places. There was not--Mr. Jacomb emphatically
remarked--there was not a gentleman in the parish. When he went to
Brighton he had considerably less work, and a great deal more of
dinners and society, and pleasant attentions. And Mr. Jacomb, while he
was a devoted, earnest, and hard-working priest, was also an
Englishman, and liked his dinner, and that was how he became acquainted
with the Beresfords, and gradually grew to be an intimate friend of the
family. His attentions to Nan were marked, and she knew it. She knew,
although he had said nothing to her about it, that he wished her to be
his wife; and though she would rather have been enabled to devote her
life to some good end in some other way, was not this the only way open
to her? By herself, she was so helpless to do anything. So many of
her friends seemed to cultivate religion as a higher species of
emotion--a sort of luxurious satisfaction that ended with themselves.
Nan wanted to do something. If Mr. Jacomb had still been in the
south-east of London, working on his 60 pounds a year, Nan would have
had no doubt as to what she ought to do.

But Nan had very serious doubt; more than that, she sometimes broke
down, and delivered herself over to the devil. At such times a strange
yearning would take possession of her; the atmosphere of exalted
religious emotion in which she lived would begin to feel stifling; at
all costs, she would have to get out of this hot-house, and gain a
breath of brisk sea air. And then she would steal away like a guilty
thing on one of her long land cruises along the coast; and she would
patiently talk to the old shepherds on the downs, and wait for their
laconic answers; and she would make observations to the coastguardsmen
about the weather; and always her eyes, which were very clear and
long-sighted, were on the outlook for Singing Sal. Then if by some
rare and happy chance she did run across that free-and-easy vagrant,
they always had a long chat together--Sal very respectful, the young
lady very matter-of-fact; and generally the talk came round to be about
sailors. Nan Beresford had got to k