friends.
Put that out of the question, Morley."

But the Rector only shook his head once more. The more she made light of
it, the more he perceived all the painful circumstances involved. Could
his mother go back to Devonshire and tell all her old ladies that her
son had made a failure in Carlingford? He grieved within himself at the
thought. His brethren at All-Souls might understand _him_; but what could
console the brave old woman for all the condolence and commiseration to
which she would be subject? "It goes to my heart, mother," he cried in
her ear.

"Well, Morley, I am very sorry you find it so," said the old lady;
"very sorry you can't see your way to all your duties. They tell me the
late rector was very Low Church, and visited about like a Dissenter, so
it is not much wonder you, with your different habits, find yourself a
good deal put out; but, my dear, don't you think it's only at first?
Don't you think after a while the people would get into your ways, and
you into theirs? Miss Wodehouse was here this morning, and was telling
me a good deal about the late rector. It's to be expected you should
find the difference; but by-and-by, to be sure, you might get used to
it, and the people would not expect so much."

"Did she tell you where we met the other day?" asked the Rector, with a
brevity rendered necessary by Mrs Proctor's infirmity.

"She told me--she's a dear confused good soul," said the old lady--"about
the difference between Lucy and herself, and how the young creature was
twenty times handier than she, and something about young Mr Wentworth of
St Roque's. Really, by all I hear, that must be a very presuming young
man," cried Mrs Proctor, with a lively air of offence. "His interference
among your parishioners, Morley, is really more than I should be
inclined to bear."

Once more the good Rector shook his head. He had not thought of that aspect
of the subject. He was indeed so free from vanity or self-importance,
that his only feeling in regard to the sudden appearance of the
perpetual curate was respect and surprise. He would not be convinced
otherwise even now. "He can do his duty, mother," he answered, sadly.

"Stuff and nonsense!" cried the old lady. "Do you mean to tell me a boy
like that can do his duty better than my son could do it, if he put his
mind to it? And if it is your duty, Morley, dear," continued his mother,
melting a little, and in a coaxing persuasive tone, "of course I know