– Kate, don't you understand? I can earn money and help you! I'm sick of depending on the favours of the neighbours! – whispered insistently and loudly, annoyed by her sister's stubbornness, Christine.

– It is not the neighbours who give us favours, but God who works through their hearts! But that is your business. Go wherever you like, but I don't approve of your plan," Catherine agreed reluctantly. – But how will you tell Dad?

– I'm a grown-up girl and I can go anywhere I want, you said so yourself.

– Where are you going to go?

– I was going to go to the nearest town, but I changed my mind. I'm going to the capital.

– London? Do you think there's someone waiting for you there? – Kate said mockingly, surprised at her sister's naivety.

– That's it, Kate. Good night," she said resentfully.

Christine went back to her mattress and lay facing the wall, resentful that no one understood her, or even tried to understand her desire to escape from the dreadful poverty she hated with all her heart and was ashamed of.

"Even father won't hold me back. I must change my life. All that awaits me here is poverty and (God forbid!) marriage to John. I must go away!" – she thought with despair.

– Chris! – Catherine whispered.

– What?

– But you need money to move to London. Where will you get it?

– I'll find something.

The sisters were silent, each absorbed in her own thoughts.

The next morning the pastor's house was again visited by Mr. Morris, who brought a large jug of fresh milk and a basket of vegetables for Cassie. The doctor examined the patient and reported that the crisis had passed, Cassie was on the mend, and would soon be able to leave the house for fresh air (the air in the cottage was heavy and stale, as the only small window had never been opened since winter). Cassie was very embarrassed when the doctor listened to her breathing through the hearing medical tube, and she was uncomfortable with the iron touching her chest, even though her nightgown, as the pastor would not allow the doctor to listen to her lungs properly.

After matins, the pastor made his way to the landlord's estate, for the lord had given him, through Mr. Morris, an invitation for an audience at Rivershold. The Count of Draymore, as promised, had sent out from London an architect, Mr. Pilough, of rather high fame, and now he needed to speak to Pastor Glowford about workers for the restoration. The pastor promised the lord that the work would be done by country lads and men, under the architect's direction of course, and that he would look for volunteers at vespers tonight.

As the pastor was on his way down from the Earl's study, which was on the second Floor, he met Viscount Wilworth in the hall.

– I hear your daughter is on the mend," said the Viscount, smiling pleasantly at the pastor who was slightly surprised at his attention.

– 'Yes, thank God. And for that I should thank you," the parson bowed to him respectfully.

– Always at your service, Mr. Glowford. Mr. Morris has told me of your lodgings, and I should like to help you. He suggested that Miss Cassandra is ill so often because she is constantly breathing the smell of mould and damp into her delicate lungs, and shivering with cold in winter," said the Viscount, frowning.

Viscount Wilworth had taken an interest in the Glowford family, especially the youngest of them, Miss Cassandra, from his first days at his friend's estate. The case of the family itself and the girl's illness seemed to him out of the ordinary. The Viscount was deeply and unpleasantly surprised that the Anglican Church had forgotten Walsingham, who in turn had never forgotten her. The Viscount could not understand how Cassie's beautiful appearance was inhabited by such a weak mind: he thought that modern advances in medicine might have helped to develop her mind, but, as he became convinced, her father was strongly opposed to the interference of mortals "in the affairs of God". So, the Viscount abandoned the idea, but now wished to help the Glowfords in a material way: when Mr. Morris told him about the dreadful conditions in which the three girls and their father lived, he was simply horrified.

– I beg your pardon, sir, I don't quite understand what you're saying," the pastor interjected, but he realised it was about his family.

– I want to build your family a new and bigger house," said the Viscount bluntly, but he was afraid that the parson would refuse him here too.

– Your kindness knows no bounds, sir. – The parson made a courteous bow. – But I cannot live better than my parishioners: it would be a great sin before them and God. I will wait until Lord Draymore has rebuilt the village, for he has given his word that he will make us all happy.

– Your refusal is understood, Reverend," frowned the Viscount, unpleasantly surprised at the religiosity of this beggarly old man, who did not seem to understand the desperate need for this small and gratuitous favour on his part.

– I thank you for your help and your good endeavours. The Lord sees and will credit them to you when you stand before Him," the pastor said softly, sensing the noble lord's displeasure.

The viscount chuckled a little derisively.

– So, what were you talking to the Count about? – He asked, deciding to switch to a neutral topic.