But slowly, slowly it seemed to move, the time which was to bring her lover home. Two years of his absence had gone, perhaps more than another might have to pass ere his return. She began now to understand what was meant by hope deferred; she knew what waiting was now. Now and then her bright hopes seemed to fail her, and she was ready to murmur that he should still delay. But better feelings usually prevailed; he was doing his duty; he was acting right; he was denying his strongest inclinations, and should _she_ give way, she who had neither storm, nor danger, nor anxious responsibility, nor thwarting cares nor vexatious counteractions, nor any other difficulty to contend with? She could stay with those she loved in her sheltered home, and pray for him in the parish church, knowing so little trouble, feeling no doubt of her duty. Shame on her false heart, her feeble trust, her fainting patience, if they failed her at such a time. The other changes besides those mentioned were slight. The Paines indeed had gone, and Mr. Ufford now filled the office of curate. He had much more absolute power than Mr. Paine had exercised. Mr. Duncan was incapable of doing much, so Mr. Ufford ruled supreme, and, except that he had contrived to offend many of the farmers’ wives, and quarrel with their husbands, had driven away the old schoolmistress, and considerably diminished the school, had scattered the congregation and half-emptied the church, every thing might be considered to do very well. Hilary saw much of this with sorrow, Gwyneth with wondering indignation; not at the clergyman, however, but at the people who disagreed with him. What any one could find to quarrel with in him, she could not imagine. So good, so quiet, so full of plans for the good of every one; it was wonderful that every one would not submit to be led as she was, and would not on every occasion give up will, wish, and reason to the control of Mr. Ufford. She could not understand why, but certainly Mr. Ufford had an unfortunate faculty, both for giving and taking offense, for finding himself injured, and feeling himself neglected, which did not smooth his way in the parish. It is foreign to my story, to relate how he quarreled with the village choir about the Psalms, and the church-wardens about the poor-box; how pews became a lively subject of discussion, and churchings a source of dissent. He had Mr. Duncan’s ear, and could persuade him to what he pleased; and he was so plausible in his statements, so well-intentioned in his theories, that, of course, it was impossible he should contradict him. Nothing could exceed the almost paternal kindness with which he had been welcomed and treated by the vicar; and Hilary, conscious that her engagement was known to him, fearing no evil, and thinking no harm, had received him nearly as a brother, and done every thing she could to smooth his way with the people. Such influence as he had, he owed to the Duncans.