The Curate in Charge

engaged in calculations long and w

was to make it; and she was overwhelmed by this discovery. She took the books in her lap and crept into the drawing-room beside Mab, who was making a study of the children in the dreary stillness of the afternoon. The two little boys were posed against the big sofa, on the carpet. The young artist had pulled off their shoes and stockings, and, indeed, left very little clothes at all upon Charley, who let her do as she pleased with him without remonstrance, sucking his thumb and gazing at her with his pale blue eyes. Harry had protested, but had to submit to the taking away of his shoes, and

s books. What good would crying do? If she cried her eyes out it would not pay a sixpence. Cicely knew that she had more "sense" than Mab. It was natural. She was nineteen, Mab only eighteen, and a year is so much at that age! But Mab was clever. She could do something which Cicely could not even understand; and she would be able to make money, which Cicely could scarcely hope to do. It was envy, but of a generous kind. Cicely went across the room quite humbly behind backs, not to disturb her sister's work, and sat down by the darkened window, through which a fresh little breeze from the garden was coming in. It distracted her for a moment from her more serious cares to watch the work going on. She thought how pretty Mab looked, lighting up the poetical darkness, working away so vigorously and pleasantly with only

like that again. How pretty children are even when they are ugly! What pictures such things make! how

Cicely; "I would do anything. Oh, I wo

deal better than I can. I get impatient; but you shan't teach; I a

us two; but now look," she cried pointing to the two children lyin

the paper! I must try them again. Just look at all those legs and arms!-and yet they are not a b

but then she shook her head slightly and sighed. "You live in another world," she said

s?" cried Mab busy with her charcoal. "Don't make yourself unhappy,

as you have-- Oh, you don't know how

face. This was a terrible word to the two girls, who never

apa knows; and now he has lost even the little income he had, and we have

cheek against another as if that would do any good. "Oh, how can I tell?" she said with tears in

for ever," she said, "as we were all foolish enough to think when we came-we might have paid i

esents a dreadful coming down in life, almost more than a greater apparent loss does. Her countenance fell, the corners of her mouth took a downward curve, and her pride receiv

a little; "it is what people will think. Us, a clergyman's daughters! But what is the use even of that?" she cried; "it will do no good now. Papa

y! and so often those who suffer are not those who are to blame. The ruin that seemed to be involved was unspeakable to the t

m to take pity upon us; to let us begin again paying every week, and wait till we could scrape some money toge

They have not stirred a bit, look, Cicely. They are like two little white statues. It may be a pity that they were ever born, as Aunt Jane says-but they are delightful

g? Very likely they don't know anything about poor papa. It may be very highminded never to ask for anything," said poor Cicely, "but then how can we expect that other people will come and thrust bread into our mouths? It is better to ask than to starve. As a matter of fact we cannot starve quietly, because if we are found dead of hunger, there is sure to be a business in the papers, an

-whether we might not ask her, as people used to do long ago? I don't think she would

with us any more than any other lady? No! that sort of thing has to be done in a business way," sai

this moment the door was suddenly thrown open, admitting a flood of cross light

gan Mr. St. Jo

m up. You have spoiled my li

ed with a surprise I cannot describe on this extraordinary scene. The white babies in the light had seemed to him at first an exquisite little "composition," which went to his very heart; and the two other figures, half lit up by the stream of u

ot disturbed by the wailing of the little boys, to which, I suppose, he was used. "Cicely, this is Mr. Mi

ention was distracted from the drawing and the artist, who, naturally, would have inter

sion, even in her despair, than she was aware of. She felt herself fall down, down into unspeakable depths, and the very heart within her seemed to feel the physical pain of it, lying crushed and sore, throbbing all over with sudden suffering. The passionate force of the shock gave her strength, or I do not think she could have carried the two children away as she did, one in each arm, while the stranger looked on amazed. Little Charley, always peaceable, held her fast round the neck, with his head against her cheek; but Harry, whom she carried under her other arm, lifted his head a little from that horizontal position, and kept up his melanchol

was as pleased with his visitor as if he had brought him something, instead of taking all hope from him. It was rarely the good man saw any but heavy parish people-the rural souls with whom indeed he was friendly, but who had nothing to say to him except about their crops and local gossip. The gossip of Oxford was much sweeter to his ears. He liked to tell of the aspect of things "in my time," as I suppose we all do; and how different this and that was now-a-days. "I knew him when he was a curate like myself," he said, with a soft sigh, talking of the dean, that lofty dignitary. "We were at school together, and I used to be the better man;" and this was spoken of the vice-chancellor himself; and he enjoyed and wo

ile Mr. St. John was but curate? Yet so far above him in years and experience, and all that constitutes superiority among gentlemen of equal breeding. Why was he here as curate? and why did that girl look at himself with so much suppressed passion in her eyes? and where had the other been trained to draw so well? and what was the meaning of the two children, so unlike all the others, whom his young enemy had carried off impetuously, instead of ringing the bell for their nurse as any one else would have done? Mildmay felt a thrilling sensation of newness as he sat down at the tea-table, and looked on, an interested spectator at all that was proceeding under his eyes. This in i

ch, as you say, are much worn. The other things are all Mr. Chester's. I am expecting every day

of horror in spite of h

apa? The catafalque there, Cicely and I agreed it was mo

al now. Poor Chester! He was a man of very fine taste, Mr. Mildmay. But why do you laugh, my dear? That was why he was so fond of Italy; shattered h

r a look which made him think his tea might be

t here instead? There are a great many things that I would like to show you-the church and the school for in

w can you?" she seemed to say. Then she answered hesitating, "There are plenty of beds, but I don't know if they are aired

at I can have had the assurance to thrust myself upon you like th

dness. "My dear, it is fine warm weather, and Mr. Mildmay is a young man. He is not afraid of rheumatics like the old people in the pari

and slightly red at the edges; there was surprise and remonstrance in them, and she did not condescend by a single word to second her father's invitation. This s

said to Mab, who was interested and amused by

me pose! If papa had not come in so suddenl

he said; "but I did not expect to be b

" she said. "I want so much to be an artist. Shall I ever

nd reproach. "The people who know you best think so," she said

implacable young woman! What could he have done to her? Mildmay felt as much aggrieved when she called him a stranger, as if it had been a downrig

h is some way off. You must not think this cluster of houses is Brentburn. It is pleasant walking in the cool of the afternoon, and, my dears, a walk will be good for you too. Come down by t

why did you ask him? I cannot b

now how to reply. Then he put his hand softly upon her forehead, and looked into her eyes. "I see

wretched. Let me speak to you when we hav

ass off. But I must not keep my guest waiting," and with this Mr. St. John went away, talking cheerfully in the hall to his companion as he rejoin

ut don't be so savage, Ciss. If it must be, let us make the best of it. Mr. Mildm

ing. What are we to do? Where are we to go to? His name is not Mildmay; it is Ruin and Destruction. It is all

say exactly what they think. But if he gave it up, there would be some one else. We

her despair, almost grinding her white teeth. "I th