ess. His worldly affairs were all astray as yet, and he
had not the most distant indication of any gleam of light dawning upon
the horizon which could reconcile his duty and honour with good fortune
and the delights of life. Meanwhile other discussions were going on in
Carlingford, of vital importance to the two young people who had made up
their minds to cast themselves upon Providence. And among the various
conversations which were being carried on about the same moment in
respect to Mr Wentworth--whose affairs, as was natural, were extensively
canvassed in Grange Lane, as well as in other less exclusive
quarters--it would be wrong to omit a remarkable consultation which took
place in the Rectory, where Mrs Morgan sat in the midst of the great
bouquets of the drawing-room carpet, making up her first matrimonial
difficulty. It would be difficult to explain what influence the
drawing-room carpet in the Rectory had on the fortunes of the Perpetual
Curate; but when Mr Wentworth's friends come to hear the entire outs and
ins of the business, it will be seen that it was not for nothing that
Mr Proctor covered the floor of that pretty apartment with roses and
lilies half a yard long.

CHAPTER XLIII.

These were eventful days in Grange Lane, when gossip was not nearly
rapid enough to follow the march of events. When Mr Wentworth went to
lunch with his family, the two sisters kept together in the
drawing-room, which seemed again re-consecrated to the purposes of
life. Lucy had not much inclination just at that moment to move out of
her chair; she was not sociable, to tell the truth, nor disposed to
talk even about the new prospects which were brightening over both.
She even took out her needlework, to the disgust of her sister. "When
there are so many things to talk about, and so much to be considered,"
Miss Wodehouse said, with a little indignation; and wondered within
herself whether Lucy was really insensible to "what had happened," or
whether the sense of duty was strong upon her little sister even in
the height of her happiness. A woman of greater experience or
discrimination might have perceived that Lucy had retired into that
sacred silence, sweetest of all youthful privileges, in which she
could dream over to herself the wonderful hour which had just come to
an end, and the fair future of which it was the gateway. As for Miss
Wodehouse herself, she was in a flutter, and could not get over the
sense of haste a