in a
right spirit, an 'umble friend, Mr Wentworth," he continued, after a
little pause, growing bolder. "And now, as I've that unfortunate
creature to provide for, and no one knowing what's to become of her--"

"I wonder that you venture to speak of her to me," said the Curate,
with a little indignation, "after all the warnings I gave you. But
you ought to consider that you are to blame a great deal more than she
is. She is only a child; if you had taken better care of her--but you
would not pay any attention to my warning;--you must bear the
consequences as you best can."

"Well, sir," said Elsworthy, "if you're a-going to bear malice, I
haven't got nothing to say. But there aint ten men in Carlingford as
wouldn't agree with me that when a young gentleman, even if he is a
clergyman, takes particklar notice of a pretty young girl, it aint
just for nothing as he does it--not to say watching over her paternal
to see as she wasn't out late at night, and suchlike. But bygones is
bygones, sir," said Elsworthy, "and is never more to be mentioned by
me. I don't ask no more, if you'll but do the same--"

"You won't ask no more?" said the Curate, angrily; "do you think I am
afraid of you? I have nothing more to say, Elsworthy. Go and look
after your business--I will attend to mine; and when we are not forced
to meet, let us keep clear of each other. It will be better both for
you and me."

The Curate passed on with an impatient nod; but his assailant did not
intend that he should escape so easily. "I shouldn't have thought,
sir, as you'd have borne malice," said Elsworthy, hastening on after
him, yet keeping half a step behind. "I'm a humbled man--different
from what I ever thought to be. I could always keep up my head afore
the world till now; and if it aint your fault, sir--as I humbly beg
your pardon for ever being so far led away as to believe it was--all
the same it's along of you."

"What do you mean?" said the Curate, who, half amused and half
indignant at the change of tone, had slackened his pace to listen to
this new accusation.

"What I mean, sir, is, that if you hadn't been so good and so
kind-hearted as to take into your house the--the villain as has done
it all, him and Rosa could never have known each other. I allow as it
was nothing but your own goodness as did it; but it was a black day
for me and mine," said the dramatist, with a pathetic turn of voice.
"Not as I'm casting no blame on you, as is well k