“Yes,” said the curate, with the hush and wonder of humility, feeling that he could not account for such a piece of good fortune. “That shows,” cried she, “how much you are appreciated, how you are understood. Oh, Harry! the world is wonderfully kind and right-feeling, after all.” “Yes,” he said, “sometimes; there are a great many kind people in the world. And you don’t mind it, my darling? you don’t mind leaving Horton and all your relations, and the neighbourhood you have lived in all your life?” “Mind it!” she cried, and paused a little, and dried her eyes, which were full. “Harry,” she said, with a little solemnity, “I think when people marry and have a family of their own, it is always a little like the beginning of a new world; don’t you think so? Everything is changed. It seems natural to go to a new place, to make a real new start, more natural than to stay where one has always been. Then, when they grow up, there will be openings for the boys; and Hetty will be able to get a good education. Mind it! I am sure it is the right thing.” “I am very glad, dear. I feared you might have doubts about leaving the parish.” “After all,” said Mary, “we have done everything we could for the parish; and perhaps a little novelty would be good for them now. Uncle Hugh will be very particular in choosing a very good man to succeed you. And we have done everything we could; perhaps a new curate who is a novelty may be better for the parish too.” [Illustration] CHAPTER XI. THE FIRST CHANGE. There was a good deal of difficulty made among the relations about this removal. The ladies particularly were very decided on the subject. Who would look after Mary? who would see that she did not do too much, that she took proper nourishment, that she had from time to time a new gown, if she went away? “She will never think of these things for herself,” said Mrs. Prescott at the Hall to Mrs. Prescott at the Rectory. “She will give everything to the children. She will think of him and them, and never of herself.” “But I don’t see what we can do,” said the clergyman’s wife. “We cannot keep them here against their will. It is a far better income than Hugh can afford to give. And with children coming so fast, they will soon have to think of education and all that. I don’t like it any more than you do,” added the clerical lady, “but what can we do?” They, however, all felt that Mary’s satisfaction in the change was ungrateful and almost unnatural. “You will never know the advantages you have had till you go away,” her aunt said to her. “You have always had some one to refer to, some one to take you out a little and make you forget your cares. But among strangers it will be different. You don’t know how different it will be.”