to be carried to bed. Lucy would not let her talk
when she came to herself; and so the only moment of possible
preparation passed away, and the event itself, which one of them knew
nothing of, and the other did not understand, came in its own person,
without any _avant-couriers_, to open Lucy's eyes once for all.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Mr Wentworth had to go into Carlingford on some business when he left
Miss Wodehouse; and as he went home again, having his head full of so
many matters, he forgot for the moment what most immediately concerned
himself, and was close upon Elsworthy's shop, looking into the window,
before he thought of it. Elsworthy himself was standing behind the
counter, with a paper in his hand, from which he was expounding
something to various people in the shop. It was getting late, and the
gas was lighted, which threw the interior into very bright relief to Mr
Wentworth outside. The Curate was still only a young man, though he was
a clergyman, and his movements were not always guided by reason or sound
sense. He walked into the shop, almost before he was aware what he was
doing. The people were inconsiderable people enough--cronies of
Elsworthy--but they were people who had been accustomed to look up very
reverentially to the Curate of St Roque's and Mr Wentworth was far from
being superior to their disapproval. There was a very visible stir among
them as he entered, and Elsworthy came to an abrupt stop in his
elucidations, and thrust the paper he had been reading into a drawer.
Dead and sudden silence followed the entrance of the Curate. Peter
Hayles, the druggist, who was one of the auditors, stole to the door
with intentions of escape, and the women, of whom there were two or
three, looked alarmed, not knowing what might come of it. As for Mr
Wentworth, there was only one thing possible for him to say. "Have you
heard anything of Rosa, Elsworthy?" he asked, with great gravity, fixing
his eyes upon the man's face. The question seemed to ring into all the
corners. Whether it was innocence or utter abandonment nobody could
tell, and the spectators held their breath for the answer. Elsworthy,
for his part, was as much taken by surprise as his neighbours. He grew
very pale and livid in his sudden excitement, and lost his voice, and
stood staring at the Curate like a man struck dumb. Perhaps Mr Wentworth
got bolder when he saw the effect he had produced. He repeated the
question, looking towards poo