London now on the instant, and swept out of the place with
even more than their characteristic promptitude; and the rector would
have given up his charge to a substitute if he could. But floating
clerical labor was just then scarce, and he could not find any one
to take his place in the Valley of the Shadow, though he offered the
liberal terms which are dictated by fear. He sent away his wife and
daughter, but he himself was bound to his post, and had to make the
best of the bad bit of cord that held him. He used to say with his
grand manner of martyrdom that, whatever he suffered, he must pull
the laboring-oar to the end, and attend to the sheep committed to his
charge. And he said it so often that he got at last to believe in his
own devotion. All the same, that laboring-oar of his pulled nothing
heavier than a cock-boat, and in waters no stormier than a duck-pond;
and when his sheep had the rot he was too delicate about the hands
to meddle with them. He preached to the living and he buried the dead
surrounded by all the protective appliances that science has devised
or money can supply. When the epidemic was over he too talked of
Providence and his trust therein, and how he had been mercifully
spared as his reward.

Mrs. Birkett's native indolence would have kept her at home, well
fumigated and isolated, even in such a strait of fear and danger as
this in which they all were, and Adelaide was racked with torment at
leaving Leam unwatched and unhindered in the same place as Edgar; yet,
being more afraid of the fever than even of a potential rival, she
agreed with her father that in justice to themselves they ought to go
now at once; and Pace, who was to remain to take care of the rector,
packed up their best dresses, and sent them off with Adelaide's maid
shared between them. She prophesied, however, that their things would
all be spoiled before they returned, and then they would know her
value. As Mr. Dundas elected to remain at home, not being afraid of
infection and being tired of travel, Mrs. Birkett insisted on
taking little Fina with her. This was her contribution to the sum
of philanthropy and self-sacrifice in the world, and it was not
despicable; for Fina was restless and only six years of age, and Mrs.
Birkett was indolent and soon tired.

Thus, the whole society of the place was reduced now to the rector,
Mr. Dundas and Leam, with Edgar Harrowby left alone at the Hill. The
Corfields did not count, because