they could not hear what it was, they were all cheering so.

At this their mother broke down, and went crying into the house. Not to
have had the last words of the child whom she should never see the same
again if she ever saw her at all, was more, she said, than heart could
bear.

The rector's wife arrived home with her husband in a mood of mounting
hopefulness, which soared to tops commanding a view of perhaps more of
this world's kingdoms than a clergyman's wife ought ever to see, even for
another. She decided that Clementina's chances of making a splendid
match, somewhere, were about of the nature of certainties, and she
contended that she would adorn any station, with experience, and with her
native tact, especially if it were a very high station in Europe, where
Mrs. Lander would now be sure to take her. If she did not take her to
Europe, however, she would be sure to leave her all her money, and this
would serve the same end, though more indirectly.

Mr. Richling scoffed at this ideal of Clementina's future with a contempt
which was as little becoming to his cloth. He made his wife reflect that,
with all her inherent grace and charm, Clementina was an ignorant little
country girl, who had neither the hardness of heart nor the greediness of
soul, which gets people on in the world, and repair for them the
disadvantages of birth and education. He represented that even if
favorable chances for success in society showed themselves to the girl,
the intense and inexpugnable vulgarity of Mrs. Lander would spoil them;
and he was glad of this, he said, for he believed that the best thing
which could happen to the child would be to come home as sweet and good
as she had gone away; he added this was what they ought both to pray for.