nely bosom of the virtuous doctor, solitary and
unconsoled as he was. _His_ laborious days knew no such solace. And as
he fretted and pondered, no visions of Bessie Christian perplexed his
thoughts. He had forgotten that young woman. All his mind was fully
occupied chafing at the sacrifice of Nettie. He was not sorry, he was
angry, to think of her odd position, and the duties she had taken upon
herself. What had she to do with those wretched children, and that
faded spiteful mother? Edward Rider was supremely disgusted. He said to
himself, with the highest moral indignation, that such a girl ought not
to be permitted to tie herself to such a fate.

CHAPTER V.

St Roque's Cottage was considered rather a triumph of local architecture.
A Carlingford artist had built it "after" the Church, which was one of
Gilbert Scott's churches, and perfect in its way, so that its Gothic
qualities were unquestionable. The only thing wanting was size, which
was certainly an unfortunate defect, and made this adaptation of
ecclesiastical architecture to domestic purposes a very doubtful
experiment. However, in bright sunshine, when the abundance of light
neutralised the want of window, all was well, and there was still
abundance of sunshine in Carlingford in October, three months after the
entrance of Fred Rider and his family into Mrs Smith's little rooms. It
was a bright autumn day, still mild, though with a crispness in the air,
the late season showing more in the destitution of the flower-borders
than in any more sensible sign. It was a pretty spot enough for a
roadside. St Roque's stood on the edge of a little common, over which,
at the other margin, you could see some white cottages, natural to
the soil, in a little hamlet-cluster, dropped along the edge of the
grey-green unequal grass; while between the church and the cottage ran
the merest shadow of a brook, just enough to give place and nutriment
to three willow-trees which had been the feature of the scene before St
Roque's was, and which now greatly helped the composition of the little
landscape, and harmonised the new building with the old soil. St Roque's
Cottage, by special intervention of Mr Wentworth, the perpetual curate,
had dropped no intervening wall between its garden and those trees; but,
not without many fears, had contented itself with a wooden paling on the
side nearest the willows. Consequently, the slope of grass at that side,
which Mrs Smith was too prud