“No, ma’am; but she wants better food than I can give her, and it is a bad wild place for a girl to grow up. It is not like what I was used to, ma’am; I was always used to keep to my school and to my church—but it is a bad place to live in here.”
No one could deny it, and the party left the cottage gravely. Alan and Norman joined them, having heard a grievous history of the lawlessness of the people from a foreman with whom they had met. There seemed to be no visible means of improvement. The parish church was Stoneborough, and there the living was very poor, the tithes having been appropriated to the old Monastery, and since its dissolution having fallen into possession of a Body that never did anything for the town. The incumbent, Mr. Ramsden, had small means, and was not a high stamp of clergyman, seldom exerting himself, and leaving most of his parish work to the two under masters of the school, Mr. Wilmot and Mr. Harrison, who did all they had time and strength for, and more too, within the town itself. There was no hope for Cocksmoor!
“There would be a worthy ambition!” said Etheldred, as they turned their steps homeward. “Let us propose that aim to ourselves, to build a church on Cocksmoor!”
“How many years do you give us to do it in?” said Norman.
“Few or many, I don’t care. I’ll never leave off thinking about it till it is done.”
“It need not be long,” said Flora, “if one could get up a subscription.”
“A penny subscription?” said Norman. “I’d rather have it my own doing.”
“You agree then,” said Ethel; “do you, Mr. Ernescliffe?”
“I may safely do so,” he answered, smiling. Miss Winter looked at Etheldred reprovingly, and she shrank into herself, drew apart, and indulged in a reverie. She had heard in books of girls writing poetry, romance, history—gaining fifties and hundreds. Could not some of the myriads of fancies floating in her mind thus be made available? She would compose, publish, earn money—some day call papa, show him her hoard, beg him to take it, and, never owning whence it came, raise the building. Spire and chancel, pinnacle and buttress, rose before her eyes, and she and Norman were standing in the porch with an orderly, religious population, blessing the unknown benefactor, who had caused the news of salvation to be heard among them.
They were almost at home, when the sight of a crowd in the main street checked them. Norman and Mr. Ernescliffe went forward to discover the cause, and spoke to some one on the outskirts—then Mr. Ernescliffe hurried back to the ladies.