not have been so hard upon Miss Leonora; but being a
woman of very distinct and uncompromising vision, she could not conceal
from herself either Julia Trench's cleverness or her own mixed and
doubtful motives. Having this sense of wrong and injustice, and general
failure of the duty of kindred towards Frank, it might have been
supposed a little comfort to Miss Leonora to perceive that he had
entirely recovered from his disappointment, and was no longer in her
power, if indeed he had ever been so. But the fact was, that if anything
could have aggravated her personal smart, it would have been the fact
of Frank's indifference and cheerfulness, and evident capability of
contenting himself with his duty and his favourite district, and his
Lucy--whom, to be sure, he could not marry, being only a perpetual
curate. The spectacle came to have a certain fascination for Miss
Wentworth. She kept watching him with a grim satisfaction, punishing
herself, and at the same time comforting herself with the idea that,
light as he made of it, he must be suffering too. She could not bear to
think that he had escaped clean out of her hands, and that the decision
she had come to, which produced so much pain to herself, was innoxious
to Frank; and at the same time, though she could not tolerate his
composure, and would have preferred to see him angry and revengeful, his
evident recovery of spirits and general exhilaration increased Miss
Leonora's respect for the man she had wronged. In this condition of mind
the strong-minded aunt lingered over her preparations for removal,
scorning much the rumour in Carlingford about her nephew's advancement,
and feeling that she could never forgive him if by any chance promotion
should come to him after all. "He will stay where he is. He will be a
perpetual curate," Miss Leonora said, uttering what was in reality a
hope under the shape of a taunt; and things were still in this position
when Grange Lane in general and Miss Dora in particular (from the window
of the summer-house) were startled much by the sight of the Rector, in
terribly correct clerical costume, as if he were going to dine with the
bishop, who walked slowly down the road like a man charged with a
mission, and, knocking at Mrs Hadwin's door, was admitted immediately to
a private conference with the Curate of St Roque's.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

It was the same afternoon that Mr Wentworth failed to attend, as he had
never been known to fail