With this resolution she
gathered a flower from the little grave beside her, and, turning away,
hastened out of the churchyard.
Mr. Warden had scarcely glanced through the vestry window since Mrs.
Bolton had gone away in anger, but he was well aware of Sophy's
lingering beside the grave. He felt crushed and unhappy. His friend
Chantrey had solemnly committed the parish to his care, and he to the
utmost of his power had strenuously fulfilled his duties. But what was
he to do with this new case? Except under strong excitement his
constitutional shyness kept him dumb, and how was he to venture to
expostulate with his friend's wife upon such a subject? It seemed to be
his duty to do something to prevent this lonely and sorrowful girl from
drifting into a commonplace and degrading phase of sin. But how was he
to begin? How could he even hint at such a suspicion? Besides, he could
do nothing to remove her out of temptation. So long as Mrs. Bolton
persisted in her angry refusal to follow his advice, she must be exposed
daily to indulge an appetite which she had not the firmness to resist.
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