And then the old
lady thought of that report about little Rosa Elsworthy, which she had
never believed, and grew troubled, as old ladies are not unapt to do
under such circumstances, with all that lively faith in the seductions
of "an artful girl," and all that contemptuous pity for a "poor young
man," which seems to come natural to a woman. All the old ladies in
Carlingford, male and female, were but too likely to entertain the same
sentiments, which at least, if they did nothing else, showed a wonderful
faith in the power of love and folly common to human nature. It did not
occur to Mrs Hadwin any more than it did to Miss Dora, that Mr
Wentworth's good sense and pride, and superior cultivation, were
sufficient defences against little Rosa's dimpled cheeks and bright
eyes; and with some few exceptions, such was likely to be the opinion of
the little world of Carlingford. Mrs Hadwin grew more and more anxious
about the business as she felt the boards thrill under her feet, and
heard the impatient movements in the next room; and as soon as she had
settled her cap to her satisfaction, she left her own chamber and went
to knock, as was to be expected, at Mr Wentworth's door.

It was just at this moment that Mr Wentworth saw Wodehouse's shabby
figure entering at the garden-gate; he turned round suddenly without
hearing Mrs Hadwin's knock, and all but ran over the old lady in his
haste and eagerness--"Pardon me; I am in a great hurry," said the
Curate, darting past her. Just at the moment when she expected her
curiosity to be satisfied, it was rather hard upon Mrs Hadwin to be
dismissed so summarily. She went down-stairs in a state of great
dignity, with her lace mittens on, and her hands crossed before her.
She felt she had more and more reason for doubting human nature in
general, and for believing that the Curate of St Roque's in particular
could not bear any close examination into his conduct. Mrs Hadwin sat
down to her breakfast accordingly with a sense of pitying virtue which
was sweet to her spirit, notwithstanding that she was, as she would
have frankly acknowledged, very fond of Mr Wentworth; she said, "Poor
young man," to herself, and shook her head over him as she poured out
her solitary cup of tea. She had never been a beauty herself, nor had
she exercised any overwhelming influence that she could remember over
any one in the days of her distant youth: but being a true woman, Mrs
Hadwin believed in Rosa Elsworth