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It
was
partly
,
of
course
,
owing
to
the
fact
that
lawyer
Royall
was
“
the
biggest
man
in
North
Dormer
”
;
so
much
too
big
for
it
,
in
fact
,
that
outsiders
,
who
didn
’
t
know
,
always
wondered
how
it
held
him
.
In
spite
of
everything
—
and
in
spite
even
of
Miss
Hatchard
—
lawyer
Royall
ruled
in
North
Dormer
;
and
Charity
ruled
in
lawyer
Royall
’
s
house
.
She
had
never
put
it
to
herself
in
those
terms
;
but
she
knew
her
power
,
knew
what
it
was
made
of
,
and
hated
it
.
Confusedly
,
the
young
man
in
the
library
had
made
her
feel
for
the
first
time
what
might
be
the
sweetness
of
dependence
.
She
sat
up
,
brushed
the
bits
of
grass
from
her
hair
,
and
looked
down
on
the
house
where
she
held
sway
.
It
stood
just
below
her
,
cheerless
and
untended
,
its
faded
red
front
divided
from
the
road
by
a
“
yard
”
with
a
path
bordered
by
gooseberry
bushes
,
a
stone
well
overgrown
with
traveller
’
s
joy
,
and
a
sickly
Crimson
Rambler
tied
to
a
fan
-
shaped
support
,
which
Mr
.
Royall
had
once
brought
up
from
Hepburn
to
please
her
.
Behind
the
house
a
bit
of
uneven
ground
with
clothes
-
lines
strung
across
it
stretched
up
to
a
dry
wall
,
and
beyond
the
wall
a
patch
of
corn
and
a
few
rows
of
potatoes
strayed
vaguely
into
the
adjoining
wilderness
of
rock
and
fern
.
Charity
could
not
recall
her
first
sight
of
the
house
.
She
had
been
told
that
she
was
ill
of
a
fever
when
she
was
brought
down
from
the
Mountain
;
and
she
could
only
remember
waking
one
day
in
a
cot
at
the
foot
of
Mrs
.
Royall
’
s
bed
,
and
opening
her
eyes
on
the
cold
neatness
of
the
room
that
was
afterward
to
be
hers
.
Mrs
.
Royall
died
seven
or
eight
years
later
;
and
by
that
time
Charity
had
taken
the
measure
of
most
things
about
her
.
She
knew
that
Mrs
.
Royall
was
sad
and
timid
and
weak
;
she
knew
that
lawyer
Royall
was
harsh
and
violent
,
and
still
weaker
.
She
knew
that
she
had
been
christened
Charity
(
in
the
white
church
at
the
other
end
of
the
village
)
to
commemorate
Mr
.
Royall
’
s
disinterestedness
in
“
bringing
her
down
,
”
and
to
keep
alive
in
her
a
becoming
sense
of
her
dependence
;
she
knew
that
Mr
.
Royall
was
her
guardian
,
but
that
he
had
not
legally
adopted
her
,
though
everybody
spoke
of
her
as
Charity
Royall
;
and
she
knew
why
he
had
come
back
to
live
at
North
Dormer
,
instead
of
practising
at
Nettleton
,
where
he
had
begun
his
legal
career
.
After
Mrs
.
Royall
’
s
death
there
was
some
talk
of
sending
her
to
a
boarding
-
school
.
Miss
Hatchard
suggested
it
,
and
had
a
long
conference
with
Mr
.
Royall
,
who
,
in
pursuance
of
her
plan
,
departed
one
day
for
Starkfield
to
visit
the
institution
she
recommended
.
He
came
back
the
next
night
with
a
black
face
;
worse
,
Charity
observed
,
than
she
had
ever
seen
him
;
and
by
that
time
she
had
had
some
experience
.
When
she
asked
him
how
soon
she
was
to
start
he
answered
shortly
,
“
You
ain
’
t
going
,
”
and
shut
himself
up
in
the
room
he
called
his
office
;
and
the
next
day
the
lady
who
kept
the
school
at
Starkfield
wrote
that
“
under
the
circumstances
”
she
was
afraid
she
could
not
make
room
just
then
for
another
pupil
.
Charity
was
disappointed
;
but
she
understood
.
It
wasn
’
t
the
temptations
of
Starkfield
that
had
been
Mr
.
Royall
’
s
undoing
;
it
was
the
thought
of
losing
her
.
He
was
a
dreadfully
“
lonesome
”
man
;
she
had
made
that
out
because
she
was
so
“
lonesome
”
herself
.
He
and
she
,
face
to
face
in
that
sad
house
,
had
sounded
the
depths
of
isolation
;
and
though
she
felt
no
particular
affection
for
him
,
and
not
the
slightest
gratitude
,
she
pitied
him
because
she
was
conscious
that
he
was
superior
to
the
people
about
him
,
and
that
she
was
the
only
being
between
him
and
solitude
.
Therefore
,
when
Miss
Hatchard
sent
for
her
a
day
or
two
later
,
to
talk
of
a
school
at
Nettleton
,
and
to
say
that
this
time
a
friend
of
hers
would
“
make
the
necessary
arrangements
,
”
Charity
cut
her
short
with
the
announcement
that
she
had
decided
not
to
leave
North
Dormer
.
Miss
Hatchard
reasoned
with
her
kindly
,
but
to
no
purpose
;
she
simply
repeated
:
“
I
guess
Mr
.
Royall
’
s
too
lonesome
.
”
