living these two days. I'll attend to
the other matter, too," the lawyer said, cheerfully, shaking hands
with his new client; and the Curate went away with a vague feeling
that matters were about to come right somehow, at which he smiled when
he came to think of it, and saw how little foundation he had for such
a hope. But his hands were full of business, and he had no time to
consider his own affairs at this particular moment. It seemed to him a
kind of profanity to permit Lucy to remain under the same roof with
Wodehouse, even though he was her brother; and Mr Proctor's inquiries
had stimulated his own feeling. There was a certain pleasure, besides,
in postponing himself and his own business, however important, to her
and her concerns; and it was with this idea that he proceeded to the
house of his aunts, and was conducted to a little private sitting-room
appropriated to the sole use of Miss Leonora, for whom he had asked.
As he passed the door of the drawing-room, which was ajar, he glanced
in, and saw his aunt Dora bending over somebody who wept, and heard a
familiar voice pouring out complaints, the general sound of which was
equally familiar, though he could not make out a word of the special
subject. Frank was startled, notwithstanding his preoccupations, for
it was the same voice which had summoned him to Wentworth Rectory
which now poured out its lamentations in the Miss Wentworths'
drawing-room in Carlingford. Evidently some new complication had
arisen in the affairs of the family. Miss Leonora was in her room,
busy with the books of a Ladies' Association, of which she was
treasurer. She had a letter before her from the missionary employed by
the society, which was a very interesting letter, and likely to make a
considerable sensation when read before the next meeting. Miss Leonora
was taking the cream off this piece of correspondence, enjoying at
once itself and the impression it would make. She was slightly annoyed
when her nephew came in to disturb her. "The others are in the
drawing-room, as usual," she said. "I can't imagine what Lewis could
be thinking of, to bring you here. Louisa's coming can make no
difference to you."

"So Louisa has come? I thought I heard her voice. What has happened to
bring Louisa here?" said the Curate, who was not sorry to begin with
an indifferent subject. Miss Leonora shook her head and took up her
letter.

"She is in the drawing-room," said the strong-minded aunt. "If you