The two lords were seated in the large, sumptuous drawing-room, furnished with expensive English-style furniture, drinking brandy and discussing yesterday's trip to Walsingham.

– How could such squalid places exist in the early nineteenth century? I thought they had all disappeared a couple of centuries ago! – Lord Draymore said in surprise and grinned sarcastically. – Oh, Uncle Buck, what a burden you've put on my neck in exchange for this estate!

– But why didn't your uncle mention the village when he gave you his will? – Viscount Wilworth asked him.

– I have no idea. Perhaps he didn't even realise there was a village on his land. I myself learnt of it from my secretary.

– But, my friend, with your wealth, you can do these peasants a great deal of good. You have seen how poor they are, how crooked their houses are, how poorly they are dressed… Poor, wretched people.

– Yes, Dominic, I have. But in this dirt my eyes saw not only poverty, but also a beautiful flower, – said Colin Draymore, remembering the beautiful modest daughter of the pastor, Christine.

– Be serious. You should not think of that girl,' frowned the viscount. – Let this flower remain undefiled.

– Why this moralising? I have no wish to deal with that pretty girl. She is a peasant! I'm just paying honour to her beauty," the Count said with a mocking sneer.

– Then it must be said that the youngest Glowford is much lovelier than your beauty," said Dominic Wilworth, and his heart ached with pity for Cassie.

– Yes, indeed, but she is ill, and that spoils her.

– But it's only a question of looks.

– Yes, that little girl with the marvellous curls is a wonder. I feel sorry for her," Colin muttered, not wanting to spread his negative opinion of her.

The moment he'd seen Cassie, the same dark thoughts had flashed through his mind as when he'd seen her sister Christine. But Cassie's dementia repelled him. Viscount Wilworth, on the contrary, became imbued with genuine sympathy and pity for Cassie. He was very surprised that the parson had not treated her as a child and how calmly he treated his daughter's illness as a must.

– I will help these peasants. It's time to show them the benefits of civilisation and the Enlightenment. I will rebuild their houses, the church, the mill, other buildings, roads, fences… Not immediately, of course: first I have to sort out all the documents left behind by my uncle. I have to look round the garden and get rid of the ugly sculptures. Where did my uncle get his love of antiquity? Renovate the park, the garden, the stables. One stable isn't enough, I must build another," Lord Draymore said thoughtfully, imagining how it would change the appearance of Rivershold.

– Better take care of the peasants," his friend urged him. – Your plans won't go anywhere, but fifty peasants will die before you realise them.

– Oh, come on. They've been living all these years.

– Yes, they have, and that's why their village has become a "rotten place" and will eventually disappear from the face of the earth. How many peasants live there?

– One hundred and fifty-one. Half of them are children.

– You see, if you don't want a bunch of hungry children when their parents die, you should build the village first, then your estate.

Count Draymore smiled thoughtfully, finished his brandy, put the glass on the table, then stood up and walked to the window. The image of Christine, dressed in a modest white dress and bonnet, did not leave his mind.

"Sometimes wildflowers are more beautiful than capricious society roses," thought the count. – "But she is a peasant, and such an affair would disgrace me."

– And here comes Pastor Glowford. And, as I said, alone," he said to his friend with a chuckle, as he looked at the parson approaching the house. – I like the old man, but I think he's an Anglican nut.

– That's what a parson is," said the viscount, grinning.

In a couple of minutes, the butler announced the arrival of Pastor Glowford solemnly, and was immediately ordered by the Count to conduct him into the drawing-room. In a minute the parson stood before the high-born gentlemen from London.

– 'Thank you for receiving me, your Lordship. – The parson bowed delicately, not forgetting the social manners he still remembered despite his long stay in the wilderness. – 'I am flattered by your invitation, and it is a great honour.

– Come in, reverend, sit down," the Count answered him politely. – I wish to introduce my good friend Viscount Wilworth.

– Good afternoon," he said, and extended his hand to shake the parson's.

– I am honoured, sir," replied the parson, shaking his hand, and thinking that the Viscount was not so prim as the Landlord of Walsingham.

– 'I understand, reverend, that you have come on business? – Lord Draymore asked, pointing with his hand to a large, upholstered armchair.

The parson was embarrassed that his dusty shoes were staining the expensive carpet that covered the floor of the Rivershold drawing-room and leaving marks on it. But Lord Draymore and his friend understood the parson's embarrassment and delicately ignored it; they had servants who would always remove the dust and dirt.

– Thank you," said Pastor Glowford briefly, and sat down in the chair offered him.

– Tea, Reverend? Or perhaps you'd prefer freshly brewed coffee? – The Count asked him and rang the bell for the servants.

– Oh, no, not at all… – the parson was embarrassed: the poverty in which he lived was closer to his heart than the luxury that now surrounded him.

– Don't be embarrassed: it is a long journey from Walsingham to Rivershold, and you must be tired," said Lord Draymore, and ordered the maid to bring tea and toast for the parson. – Tell me about your parishioners. As Landlord, I am very interested in their lives. My secretary is in the village at the moment, but I would like to hear from someone who knows the people better than anyone else," the Count said to the parson as soon as the maid had left the drawing room.

– Of course, your Lordship, I will answer all your questions," said the parson, glancing at the large wall clock: he had not expected the Count to be interested in such things, and he intended to finish his business quickly and return home to his sick daughter.

The Count of Draymore sat down in the armchair opposite the parson's chair. The Viscount settled himself on a nearby sofa.

– When I was in the village, I couldn't help but notice how many young children and women there were, and how few men," the Count began. – How could this discrepancy have come about?

– The fact is, your Lordship, that the past winter has brought a real tragedy to our village: many men, women and children have died of disease, and some have frozen to death in their own beds," replied the pastor, with a heavy sigh.

– How many people lived in the village before this winter? – asked Viscount Wilworth, who was interested in the parson's information.

– One hundred and ninety-five, sir.

– And there are one hundred and fifty-one left," said the Count thoughtfully. – It is sad, very sad.

– Yes, sir, it was a great loss, but we did not bury the dead until the beginning of March, as the ground was frozen. My parishioners are very religious, kind and charitable, their lives are devoid of many goods and comforts, but they all live in the fear of the Lord.

– What do the villagers live by?

The maid entered, carrying a tray with a teapot, cups and a large dish of toast. She placed the set on a low table in front of the parson, poured a cup of fragrant, freshly brewed tea and quickly left.

– Farming, Your Lordship: growing cereals, fruit, vegetables, looking after the livestock, fishing, baking bread, and in the summer tending the potato field. But two months ago, our mill went out of order and the peasants have to grind grain by hand," replied the pastor.