She never got her health back after that, and seven years
ago she died. I remember it was on a night wonderfully like last
night--mist first, then storm. The boy died a few years afterwards. I
thought it would have broken Beatrice's heart; she has never been the
same girl since, but always full of queer ideas I don't pretend to
follow.
"And as for the life I've had of it here, Mr. Bingham, you wouldn't
believe it if I was to tell you. The living is small enough, but the
place is as full of dissent as a mackerel-boat of fish, and as for
getting the tithes--well, I cannot, that's all. If it wasn't for a bit
of farming that I do, not but what the prices are down to nothing, and
for what the visitors give in the season, and for the help of Beatrice's
salary as certificated mistress, I should have been in the poor-house
long ago, and shall be yet, I often think. I have had to take in a
border before now to make both ends meet, and shall again, I expect.
"And now I must be off up to my bit of a farm; the old sow is due to
litter, and I want to see how she is getting on. Please God she'll
have thirteen again and do well.
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