reason, which was, that tradition said that there had once been a
little chapel dedicated in the name of St. Augustine, on the site of
the new church. Mrs. Hazleby was silent for a few moments, when, as
they came in sight of what was passing at the top of the hill, she
saw a gentleman hasten across the church-yard, and asked who he was.

'Mr. Somerville, the new curate,' was the answer.

'What! another curate? I thought Mr. Walker might have been enough!'
exclaimed Mrs. Hazleby.

'Papa did not think so,' said Elizabeth drily.

'Well, I suppose that is another hundred a year out of Mr.
Woodbourne's pocket,' said Mrs. Hazleby; 'enough to ruin his family.'

'I am sure,' said Elizabeth, beginning to grow angry, 'Papa had
rather do his duty as a clergyman, than lay up thousands for us.'

'Fine talking for young things,' said Mrs. Hazleby; 'besides, it is
nothing to you, you three elder ones will be well enough off with
your mother's fortune.'

Elizabeth was more annoyed and provoked by this speech than by
anything Mrs. Hazleby had ever said to her before; her cheeks burnt
with indignation, and something which felt very like shame, but her
bonnet concealed them, and she attempted no reply. Mrs. Hazleby
began talking to Winifred about her new sash, and criticizing
Elizabeth's dress; and though Elizabeth could have wished Winifred's
mind to have been occupied with other things at such a time, yet she