ore it till it has been
fought against and conquered. And it is useful. It keeps women from
going astray."

"You think, then, that nothing should be done for this poor creature,
who fell so piteously, with so small a sin?"

"I have not said so. But when you promised her a home, where did
you think of finding one for her? Her only fitting home is with her
mother, and you know that her father will not take her there."

Mr. Fenwick said nothing more at that moment, not having clearly made
up his mind as to what he might best do; but he had before his eyes,
dimly, a plan by which he thought it possible that he might force
Carry Brattle on her father's heart. If this plan might be carried
out, he would take her to the mill-house and seat her in the room
in which the family lived, and then bring the old man in from his
work. It might be that Jacob Brattle, in his wrath, would turn with
violence upon the man who had dared thus to interfere in the affairs
of his family; but he would certainly offer no rough usage to the
poor girl. Fenwick knew the man well enough to be sure that he would
not lay his hands in anger upon a woman.

But something must be done at once,--something before any such plan
as that which was running through his brain could be matured and
carried into execution. There was Carry at the Three Honest Men, and,
for aught the Vicar knew, her brother staying with her,--with his,
the Vicar's credit, pledged for their maintenance. It was quite clear
that something must be done. He had applied to his wife, and his
wife did not know how to help him. He had suggested the wife of the
ironmonger at Warminster as the proper guardian for the poor child,
and his own wife had at once made him understand that this was
impractical. Indeed, how was it possible that such a one as Carry
Brattle should be kept out of sight and stowed away in an open
hardware-shop in a provincial town? The properest place for her would
be in the country, on some farm; and, so thinking, he determined to
apply to the girl's eldest brother.

George Brattle was a prosperous man, living on a large farm near
Fordingbridge, ten or twelve miles the other side of Salisbury. Of
him the Vicar knew very little, and of his wife nothing. That the man
had been married fourteen or fifteen years, and had a family growing
up, the Vicar did know; and, knowing it, feared that Mrs. Brattle of
Startup, as their farm was called, would not be willing to receive
th