opinion at all."

They had turned and were walking home, when the Vicar, sticking his
walking-cane upright in the grass, began again.

"It is the most miserable and lamentable thing that ever took place in
this world. Look at my sister again: what a delicate old maid she is!
used to move and be respected, more than most governesses are, in the
highest society in the land. There'll be a home for her when I die.
Think of her living in the house with any of the Hawkers; and yet, sir,
that woman's sense of duty is such that she'd die sooner than leave her
niece. Sooner be burnt at the stake than go one inch out of the line of
conduct she has marked out for herself."

The Vicar judged his sister most rightly: we shall see that hereafter.

"A man of determination and strength of character could have prevented
it at the beginning, you would say. I dare say he might have; but I am
not a man of determination and strength of character. I never was, and
I never shall be."

"Do you consider it in the light of a settled question, then," said the
Major, "that your daughter should marry young Hawker?"

"God knows. She will please herself. I spoke to her at first about
encouraging him, and she began by laughing at me, and ended by making a
scene whenever I spoke against him. I was at one time in hopes that she
would have taken a fancy to young Stockbridge; but I fear I must have
set her against him by praising him too much. It wants a woman, you
know, to manage those sort of things."