“That was just as well. It would have made my mother very unhappy and caused a bitter scandal in your parish. These things are nobody’s affair until they are everybody’s affair. The only sane course to pursue is to see that they do not become everybody’s affair!”
“What do you suggest?”
“Do what you can for the girl and leave Frederic alone. No man can trifle with his emotions with impunity. That is natural law, Divine law if you like, infinitely more searching than your law of crime and punishment. The trouble with you people is that you think moral laws are a human invention. They’re not. They are an inherent principle of the universe, and we are as subject to them as we are to the weather. This thing is Frederic’s affair and his only. You and I know perfectly well that he won’t look after the girl if he is left to himself, therefore you and I must interfere, for purely humane reasons, as you do with your parishioners, and as I do with any human trouble that I happen to come across. You can give the girl a few pounds to take her down into the country. She’ll be much better there, and you can allow her, say, ten shillings a week until she gets work or marries.”
“I was just writing to her,” said Francis. “I wasn’t sure whether it’s right.”
“Perhaps it isn’t,” replied Serge. “But at least it is practical.”
“I am glad to have talked it over with you. Should I say anything to Frederic?”
“No. If you want to hurt him—though I don’t see why you should—you will do so far more by simply ignoring him and taking the affair out of his hands.”
“Thank you. I’ll write to the young woman.”
“If you like I’ll find a place in the country for her.”
“That will be good of you. Thank you.”