“I’m well known in Carlingford—better known than most,” said Mrs. Elsworthy, with a sob; “such a thing as not being particular was never named to me. I strive and I toil from morning to night, as all things should be respectable and kep’ in good order; but what’s the good? Here’s my heart broken, that’s all; and Elsworthy standing gaping like a gaby as he is. There aint nothing as don’t go contrairy, when folks is tied to a set of fools!” cried the indignant matron. “As for pretty, I don’t know nothing about it; I’ve got too much to do minding my own business. Them as has nothing to think of but stand in the shop and twiddle their thumbs, ought to look to that; but, ma’am, if you’ll believe me, it aint no fault of mine. It aint my will to throw her in any young gentleman’s way; not to say a clergyman as we’re bound to respect. Whatever you does, ladies—and I shouldn’t wonder at your taking away your custom, nor nothing else as was a punishment—don’t blame me!”
“But you forget, Mrs. Elsworthy, that we have nothing to do with it—nothing at all; my nephew knows very well what he is about,” said Miss Dora, in injudicious haste. “Mr. Wentworth is not at all likely to forget himself,” continued that poor lady, getting confused as her sister turned round and stared at her. “Of course it was all out of kindness;—I—I know Frank did not mean anything,” cried the unfortunate aunt. Leonora’s look, as she turned round and fixed her eyes upon her, took away what little breath Miss Dora had.
“Mr. Wentworth?” asked Miss Leonora; “I should be glad to know, if anybody would inform me, what Mr. Wentworth can possibly have to do with it? I daresay you misunderstood me; I said you were to look after that little girl—your niece, or whatever she is; I did not say anything about Mr. Wentworth,” said the strong-minded sister, looking round upon them all. For the moment she forgot all about the licence, and turned upon Mr. Elsworthy with an emphasis which almost drive that troubled citizen to his knees.
“That was how I understood it,” said the clerk of St. Roque’s, humbly; “there wasn’t nothing said about Mr. Wentworth—nor there couldn’t be as I know of, but what was in his favour, for there aint many young men like our clergyman left in the Church. It aint because I’m speaking to respected ladies as is his relations; folks may talk,” said Mr. Elsworthy, with a slight faltering, “but I never see his equal; and as for an act of kindness to an orphan child—”
“The orphan child is neither here nor there,” said his angry wife, who had taken up her post by his side; “a dozen fathers and mothers couldn’t have done better by her than we’ve done; and to go and lay out her snares for them as is so far above her, if you’ll believe me, ma’am, it’s nigh broken my heart. She’s neither flesh nor blood o’ mine,” cried the aggrieved woman; “there would have been a different tale to tell if she had belonged to me. I’d have—murdered her, ma’am, though it aint proper to say so, afore we’d have gone and raised a talk like this; it aint my blame, if it was my dying word,” cried Mrs. Elsworthy, relapsing into angry tears: “I’m one as has always shown her a good example, and never gone flirting about, nor cast my eyes to one side or another for the best man as ever walked; and to think as a respectable family should be brought to shame through her doings, and a gentleman as is a clergyman got himself talked about—it’s gone nigh to kill me, that’s what it’s done,” sobbed the virtuous matron; “and I don’t see as nobody cares.”
Miss Leonora had been woke up suddenly out of her abstract occupations; she penetrated to the heart of the matter while all this talk was going on. She transfixed her sister Dora, who seemed much inclined to cry like Mrs. Elsworthy, with a look which overwhelmed that trembling woman; then she addressed herself with great suavity to the matter in hand.
“I suppose it is this poor little foolish child who has been getting herself talked about?” said Miss Leonora. “It’s a pity, to be sure, but I daresay it’s not so bad as you think. As for her laying snares for people above her, I wouldn’t be afraid of that. Poor little thing! It’s not so easy as you think laying snares. Perhaps it’s the new minister at Salem Chapel who has been paying attention to her? I would not take any notice of it if I were you. Don’t let her loll about at the window as she’s doing, and don’t let her go out so late, and give her plenty of work to do. My maid wants someone to help in her needlework. Perhaps this child would do, Cecilia?” said Miss Leonora. “As for her snares, poor thing, I don’t feel much afraid of them. I daresay if Mr. Wentworth had Sunday classes for the young people as I wished him to have, and took pains to give them proper instruction, such things would not happen. If you send her to my maid, I flatter myself she will soon come to her senses. Good morning; and you will please to send me the books—there are some others I want you to get for me next week,” said Mr. Elsworthy’s patroness. “I will follow you, Dora, please,” and Miss Leonora swept her sisters out before her, and went upon her way with indescribable grandeur. Even little Rosa felt the change, where she sat at the window looking out. The little vain creature no
