"The great object of my hopes is, and will ever be," replied the Vicar of Wrexhill almost aloud, "to lead my beloved flock to sweet and safe pastures.--And for you," he added, in a voice so low, that she rather felt than heard his words, "what is there I would not do?" Here his eyes spoke a commentary; and hers, a note upon it. "Which is the hymn, Mr. Cartwright, that you think best adapted to the semi-weekly Sabbath you recommended us to institute?" said Miss Richards. "The eleventh, I think.--Yes, the eleventh;--study that, my dear child. Early and late let your sweet voice breathe those words,--and I will be with you in spirit, Louisa." Not even Mrs. Simpson heard a word of this, beyond "dear child." "But when shall I see you?--I have doubts and difficulties on some points, Mr. Cartwright," said the widow aloud. "How shamefully ignorant--I must call it _shamefully_ ignorant--did poor Mr. Wallace suffer us to remain!--Is it not true, Louisa? Did he ever, through all the years we have known him, utter an awakening word to any of us?" "No, _indeed_ he never did," replied Miss Louisa, in a sort of penitent whine. "I am rather surprised to hear you say that, Miss Richards," said Rosalind, drawing her chair a little towards them. "I always understood that Mr. Wallace was one of the most exemplary parish priests in England. Did not your father consider him to be so, Fanny?" "I--I believe so,--I don't know," replied Fanny, stammering and colouring painfully. "Not know, Fanny Mowbray!" exclaimed Rosalind;--"not know your father's opinion of Mr. Wallace! That is very singular indeed." "I mean," said Fanny, struggling to recover her composure, "that I never heard papa's opinion of him as compared with--with any one else." "I do not believe he would have lost by the comparison," said Rosalind, rising, and walking out of the window. "Is not that prodigiously rich young lady somewhat of the tiger breed?" said young Cartwright in a whisper to Fanny. "Miss Torrington is not at all a person of serious notions," replied Fanny; "and till one is subdued by religion, one is often very quarrelsome." "I am sure, serious or not, you would never quarrel with any one," whispered Jacob. "Indeed I should be sorry and ashamed to do so now," she replied. "Your father ought to cure us all of such unchristian faults as that." "I wish I was like my father!" said Jacob very sentimentally. "Oh! how glad I am to hear you say that!" said Fanny, clasping her hands together. "I am sure it would make him so happy!" "I can't say I was thinking of making him happy, Miss Fanny: I only meant, that I wished I was like any body that you admire and approve so much." "A poor silly motive for wishing to be like such a father!" replied Fanny, blushing; and leaving her distant place, she established herself at the table on which the tea equipage had just been placed, and busied herself with the tea-cups.