"Well, ma'am," said he; "what's all this about the clergyman's house at Hurst Staple? I don't understand it at all."
"No, my lord; I'm sure your lordship can't understand. That's why I have thought it my duty to come all this way to explain it."
"All what way?"
"All the way from Hurst Staple, in Hampshire, my lord. When your lordship was so considerate as to settle what my position in the parish was to be—"
"Settle your position in the parish!"
"Yes, my lord—as to my having the income and the house."
"What does the woman mean?" said he, looking down towards the rug beneath his feet, but speaking quite out loud. "Settle her position in the parish! Why, ma'am, I don't know who you are, and what your position is, or anything about you."
"I am the widow of the late vicar, Lord Stapledean; and when he died—"
"I was fool enough to give the living to his son. I remember all about it. He was an imprudent man, and lived beyond his means, and there was nothing left for any of you—wasn't that it?"
"Yes, my lord," said Mrs. Wilkinson, who was so troubled in spirit that she hardly knew what to say. "That is, we never lived beyond our means at all, my lord. There were seven children; and they were all educated most respectably. The only boy was sent to college; and I don't think there was any imprudence—indeed I don't, my lord. And there was something saved; and the insurance was always regularly paid; and—"