 be no
more waking for her into this struggling earthly life.
    Two days before Maggie received that letter, she had been to the Rectory for
the last time. The heavy rain would have prevented her from going since; but
there was another reason. Dr Kenn, at first enlightened only by a few hints as
to the new turn which gossip and slander had taken in relation to Maggie, had
recently been made more fully aware of it by an earnest remonstrance from one of
his male parishioners against the indiscretion of persisting in the attempt to
overcome the prevalent feeling in the parish by a course of resistance. Dr Kenn,
having a conscience void of offence in the matter, was still inclined to
persevere - was still averse to give way before a public sentiment that was
odious and contemptible; but he was finally wrought upon by the consideration of
the peculiar responsibility attached to his office, of avoiding the appearance
of evil - an »appearance« that is always dependent on the average quality of
surrounding minds. Where these minds are low and gross, the area of that
»appearance« is proportionately widened. Perhaps he was in danger of acting from
obstinacy; perhaps it was his duty to succumb: conscientious people are apt to
see their duty in that which is the most painful course; and to recede was
always painful to Dr Kenn. He made up his mind that he must advise Maggie to go
away from St Ogg's for a time; and he performed that difficult task with as much
delicacy as he could, only stating in vague terms that he found his attempt to
countenance her stay was a source of discord between himself and his
parishioners, that was likely to obstruct his usefulness as a clergyman. He
begged her to allow him to write to a clerical friend of his, who might possibly
take her into his own family as governess; and, if not, would probably know of
some other available position for a young woman in whose welfare Dr Kenn felt a
strong interest.
    Poor Maggie listened with a trembling lip: she could say nothing but a faint
»thank you - I shall be grateful;« and she walked back to her lodgings, through
the driving rain, with a new sense of desolation. She must be a lonely wanderer;
she must go out among fresh faces, that would look at her wonderingly, because
the days did not seem joyful to her; she must begin a new life, in which she
would have to rouse herself to receive new impressions - and she was so
unspeakably, sickeningly weary! There was no home, no help for the erring: even
