As Nurse said, Marigold was a good girl—a girl of good disposition, of good principles, of an earnest desire to do her duty. From very childhood she had loved her Bible, had loved to go to Church, had loved to pray. She had a simple faith in God, a simple trust in and love for her Saviour. Naturally quick-tempered, she strove to be gentle; naturally impatient, she tried hard to be patient; naturally wilful, she sought to become submissive. All this was as it should be with Marigold; and in a general way, she was not only clear-sighted as to the right, but prompt in doing that right.
It sometimes happens, however, that the truest-hearted children of God are unexpectedly drawn aside from the straight path of duty by some new temptation or pull upon the inclinations. This was now the case with Marigold. Todd had obtained a sudden mastery over her; and the clear sight was blinded, the steady judgment was warped. Marigold the truthful had not been of late quite true; Marigold the open-hearted had been of late not perfectly open. She knew the fact, of course; but she did not yet recognise or allow it to herself.
She knew that prayer, and Bible-reading, and church-going, had of late lost much of their zest; but she refused to believe in any change. That which ought to have been a warning as to "something wrong," she declined to perceive.
This resolute blindness had been partially chased away by Narcissus. Marigold might keep saying to herself that Narcissus was wrong, and that all would come right; but a struggle had begun. She was absent, full of thought, with little to say to her companion.
"What's the matter with you this evening?" Todd asked, as they neared her home. "You're not yourself—eh? Something gone wrong at the Vicarage?"
"O no, nothing," Marigold could honestly answer. "I always like going there. And Narcissus is so well and happy. Just as I was. She would like to stay there always."
"Catch me liking it!"
"Why, James—what do you know of the Vicarage?"
"I know! The way they're all expected to work!"
"Well, and they are happier for it. Of course they all work at the Vicarage—Mr. and Mrs. Heavitree most. Everybody is happier for hard work," said Marigold, with spirit. "I should be miserable if I couldn't be busy. That is what makes me unhappy at home, because I see things left, and I am not allowed to do them."