rred that maketh the heart
sick, before she was married, of the life she must have led at
Crampsford, and of the surroundings in the midst of which she and her
husband both lived at Battersby, I felt as though the wonder was that
misfortunes so persistent had not been followed by even graver
retribution.

Poor people! They had tried to keep their ignorance of the world from
themselves by calling it the pursuit of heavenly things, and then
shutting their eyes to anything that might give them trouble. A son
having been born to them they had shut his eyes also as far as was
practicable. Who could blame them? They had chapter and verse for
everything they had either done or left undone; there is no better
thumbed precedent than that for being a clergyman and a clergyman's wife.
In what respect had they differed from their neighbours? How did their
household differ from that of any other clergyman of the better sort from
one end of England to the other? Why then should it have been upon them,
of all people in the world, that this tower of Siloam had fallen?

Surely it was the tower of Siloam that was naught rather than those who
stood under it; it was the system rather than the people that was at
fault. If Theobald and his wife had but known more of the world and of
the things that are therein, they would have done little harm to anyone.
Selfish they would have always been, but not more so than may very well
be pardoned, and not more than other people would be. As it was, the
case was hopeless; it would be no use their even entering into their
mothers' wombs and being born again. They must not only be born again
but they must be born again each one of them of a new father and of a new
mother and of a different line of ancestry for many generations before
their minds could become supple enough to learn anew. The only thing to
do with them was to humour them and make the best of them till they
died--and be thankful when they did so.

Theobald got my letter as I had expected, and met me at the station
nearest to Battersby. As I walked back with him towards his own house I
broke the news to him as gently as I could. I pretended that the whole
thing was in great measure a mistake, and that though Ernest no doubt had
had intentions which he ought to have resisted, he had not meant going
anything like the length which Miss Maitland supposed. I said we had
felt how much appearances were against him, and had not dared