"Yes, it happened before he made me write to father for so much money.
The vicar was ill and was obliged to go away for six months. The
clergyman who came to take his place was a young man. He was kind and
gentle, and wanted to help people. His mother was with him and she was
like him. They loved each other, and they were quite poor. His name was
Ffolliott. I liked to hear him preach. He said things that comforted me.
Nigel found out that he comforted me, and--when he called here, he was
more polite to him than he had ever been to Mr. Brent. He seemed almost
as if he liked him. He actually asked him to dinner two or three times.
After dinner, he would go out of the room and leave us together. Oh,
Betty!" clinging to her hands, "I was so wretched then, that sometimes
I thought I was going out of my mind. I think I looked wild. I used to
kneel down and try to pray, and I could not."
"Yes, yes," said Betty.
"I used to feel that if I could only have one friend, just one, I
could bear it better. Once I said something like that to Nigel. He only
shrugged his shoulders and sneered when I said it. But afterwards I
knew he had remembered. One evening, when he had asked Mr. Ffolliott to
dinner, he led him to talk about religion.
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