Clergy -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"If they are going to stay in Carlingford, perhaps we could be of use
to them? Yes, Lucy; and I am sure anything we could do for Mr
Wentworth--" said Miss Wodehouse. "I wonder what house they will get.
I am going to Elsworthy's about some paper, and we can ask him if he
knows where they are going. That poor little Rosa should have some one
to take care of her. I often wonder whether it would be kind to speak
to Mrs Elsworthy about it, Lucy; she is a sensible woman. The little
thing stands at the door in the evening, and talks to people who are
passing, and I am afraid there are some people who are unprincipled,
and tell her she is pretty, and say things to her," said Miss
Wodehouse, shaking her head; "it is a great pity. Even Mr Wentworth is
a great deal more civil to that little thing than he would be if she
had not such a pretty face."
"I said you knew everything that went on in Carlingford," said Lucy,
as they went out together from the green door, not in their grey
cloaks this time; "but I forgot to ask you about one thing that
puzzled us last night--who is the man in the beard who lives at Mrs
Hadwin's? Mr Wentworth will not tell anybody about him, and I think he
knows."
"Who is the man in the beard?" said Miss Wodehouse, with a gasp. She
grew very pale, and turned away her head and shivered visibly. "How
very cold it is!" she said, with her teeth chattering; "did you think
it was so cold? I--I don't know any men with beards; and it is so
strange of you to say I know everything that goes on in Carlingford.
Don't stop to speak to that little girl just now. Did you say she came
from Prickett's Lane? No. 10? It is very right to go to see the sick,
but, indeed, I don't approve of your attendance upon that poor woman,
Lucy. When I was a girl I dared not have gone away by myself as you
do, and she might not be a proper person. There is a carriage that I
don't know standing before Elsworthy's shop."
"But you have not told me yet about the man with the beard," said
Lucy, whose curiosity was excited. She looked at her sister keenly
with an investigating look, and poor Miss Wodehouse was fain to draw
her shawl close round her, and complain again of the cold.
"I told you I did not know," she said, with a complaining tone in her
voice. "It is strange you should think I knew; it looks as if you
thought me a gossip, Lucy. I wonder who those people can be coming out
of the carriage? My dear," said the elder sister, feeling within
herself that an attack upon the enemy's country was the best means of
meeting any sally--"I don't think you should go down to Prickett's
Lane just now. I saw Mr Wentworth pass a little while ago, and people
might say you went to meet each other. I can't keep people from
talking, Lucy, and you are both so young; and you know I spoke to you
before about your meeting so often. It will be a great deal better for
you to come with me to call on his aunts."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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