Chapter 15 - Page 2

unhappy affairs of one of the
Eyethorne poor--a bad man who was always getting drunk, fighting with his
wife, and leaving his children to starve. The curate, however, did not
seem deeply interested in the subject, and glanced not infrequently at
Miss Churton, who had resumed her reading; but it was plain to see that
she gave only a divided attention to her book.

Mrs. Churton was at length summoned to the house about some domestic
matter; then, after a short silence, the curate began a fresh
conversation with her daughter. He did not speak to her of parish affairs
and of persons, but of books, of things of the mind, and it seemed that
his heart was more in talk of this description. Or possibly the person
rather than the subject interested him. Miss Churton was living under a
cloud in her village, which was old-fashioned and pious; to be friendly
with her was not fashionable; he alone, albeit a curate, wished not to be
in the fashion. He even had the courage to approach personal questions.

"Fan, I know what you are thinking of," said Miss Churton, turning to the
girl. "It is that you would like to go and caress the flowers again--you
are such a flower-lover. Would you like to go and explore the orchard by
yourself?"

Fan thanked her gladly, and going from them, soon disappeared among the
trees.

"You live in too small a place, too remote from the world, and old-world
in character, to be allowed to live your own life in peace," said the
curate, at a later stage of the conversation. "Your set here is composed
of barely half a dozen families, and they take their cue from the
vicarage. In London, in any large town, one is allowed to think what one
likes without the neighbours troubling their heads about it. Do you know,
Miss Churton, it is strange to me that with your acquirements and talent
you do not seek a wider and more congenial field."

She smiled. "You must forgive me, Mr. Northcott, for having included you
among the troublers of my peace. It gives me a strange pleasure to tell
you this; it makes me strong to feel that I have your friendship and
sympathy."

"You certainly have that, Miss Churton."

"Thank you. I must tell you why I remain here. I am entirely dependent on
my parents just now, and shrink from beginning a second dependent life--
as a governess, for instance."

"There should be better things than that for you. You might get a good
position in a young ladies' school."

"It would be difficult. But apart from that, I shrink from entering a
profession which would absorb my whole time and faculties, and from which
I should probably find myself powerless to break away. I have