"What a disgusting Middle Ages!" – Lord Draymore thought with disgust, only now realising the enormous amount of money that would have to be invested in the development of this remote corner of the countryside. And the waste of money was not to his liking.

– Sir, our village loses people every winter, with more and more single mothers and orphans. There are very few young men left, no more than twelve, and they are mostly girls who have no one to marry, for there are no single men…" The parson thought of his own daughters. – Forgive me, sir, but I cannot stay long: my youngest daughter is ill, and I must be near her.

– Miss Cassandra? – Viscount Wilworth asked in surprise. – 'But what is the matter with her? We had the honour of seeing her after the service, and she looked perfectly well.

– Cassie is in poor health," replied the parson, not wishing to go into details.

– I will send my personal physician with you," said the Viscount, for some reason excited by the thought of Cassie's indisposition.

The Count of Draymore cast a mocking glance at his friend.

– I don't think it is necessary," the parson protested, as he was not comfortable with disturbing the gentlemen with his personal problems.

– Don't mind, reverend," the Count told him in an unappealing tone. – I am sure there is no doctor in your village to see your daughter.

– You're right, sir, we don't have a doctor, but I know a little about medicine," the parson said quietly, clutching his shabby hat.

– It is settled: Mr. Morris will go with you," the Count told him firmly. – But I do not wish to detain you, so I suggest we get down to business. I see you have brought something with you?

The parson readily unfolded on the lid of a large black piano, placed in the middle of the drawing-room, his cotton-board with a drawing of the church.

– First of all, Your Lordship, I would like your help in rebuilding the church: it is a symbol of our faith, but we do not have the money to rebuild it," the pastor said carefully, watching the expression on the landlord's face. – I realise that we dare to trouble you with our troubles, but you are our only hope for the salvation of Walsingham.

Count Draymore scrutinised the drawing of the church.

– It would be a good idea to tear down your old church and build a new one," he said firmly. – It would cost many times more to repair the old one than to build a new one.

– How? Tear it down? – The pastor was horrified. – This church has been here for a hundred and ninety-three years! To tear it down would be a sacrilege!

"How deeply they are hanging on to their ruins! – thought the count with a sneer. – How these poor people love their church! You bet, in such poverty there is nothing else to cling to than faith."

– You do not wish it to be torn down? – he asked the parson with a faint smile.

– Absolutely! Our church is our everything! – He exclaimed fervently, fearing that the lord would indeed tear it down.

– Colin, don't be a sacrilegious man," said Viscount Wilworth gravely to his friend. – 'Spare no expense and restore the church.

– 'You have three daughters, Reverend? – suddenly asked the earl.

– 'Yes, three, sir,' the parson answered him, not understanding what this had to do with the church.

Viscount Wilworth glanced suspiciously at his friend, surprised at how often the latter brought up the conversation about the Glowford sisters.

"Did that peasant girl fascinate him so much?" – he thought, and his heart filled with displeasure: the Count of Draymore was a well-known London hustler, and anything was to be expected of him.

"I wish that village girl would not fall into his net!" – mentally wished the viscount, finding the Earl's behaviour quite disapproving.

– And they are unmarried, as I understand? – He wished to know as much as he could about Christine Glowford.

The pastor, however, did not suspect any mischief; he even thought with gratitude that the lord might find his dear daughters worthy suitors.

– Unmarried, sir," he answered.

– Why not? As far as I know, country girls marry at a rather early age. Your wife should consider their fate.

– Mrs. Glowford has sadly passed away. God called her to His favour when my eldest daughter was nine. Emma was a worthy woman.

– How long ago was this?

– Seventeen years ago, sir. She died in childbirth.

– I'm sorry, Reverend, and I give you my sincere condolences. But why don't you marry your daughters yourself?

– The eldest Catherine won't leave the house. She's the lady of the house and takes care of Cassie. My other daughter, Christine, has had many offers, but for some unknown reason has turned them down. And Cassie … I don't think it's necessary to explain.

"Poor Cassie! What will happen to her when her father and sisters pass away? No one will marry the poor girl… She will die," thought Viscount Wilworth sympathetically.

– I am sorry to intrude into your conversation, but I would like to offer your youngest daughter a course of treatment: there is a well-known psychiatrist in London who can help Miss Cassandra in her mental development, – the Viscount offered from the bottom of his heart, sincerely wishing to help the girl.

– Thank you, sir, but Cassie doesn't need any treatment. I cannot go against God's plan," the parson replied sullenly.

– But who will take care of her after your death? – The viscount asked unhappily, unpleasantly surprised at the pastor's obstinacy.

– Catherine will always be by her side. And in the Lord I trust. He will never forsake my Cassie," he replied with the most determined look, for he did not like the conversation with the Viscount.

– Drink your tea, reverend," said the Count kindly; he had noticed the wrinkles in the parson's brow, and had decided to occupy his mind with another conversation, for he had got all he wanted to know about Christine. – But let us return to the restoration of the church. I will call an architect from London tomorrow to draw up a plan of restoration, and we will restore your much-loved church, and then we will take care of your houses, which are in a terrible state.

Suddenly the butler entered the drawing room.

– Yes?" the Count addressed him.

– Miss Glowford is here, sir," the butler said in a slightly dismissive tone.

– Show her in," said Lord Draymore, thinking that it was the lovely Christine he had in mind.

– She refused to come with me, sir, but said she had an urgent need to see her father, the Reverend Glowford," said the butler politely.

– Oh, I must be urgently needed in the village! – exclaimed the parson, leaping to his feet and wringing his jewelled hat in his hands. – Thank you, your Lordship, for your time. – He bowed respectfully to the landlord.

– You needn't thank me, reverend, I'll accompany you," the Count offered him politely, rising to his feet.

– Oh, no need, sir! – The parson was embarrassed.

But the Count only smiled and pointed with his hand to the door.

This embarrassed Viscount Wilworth: he had guessed his friend's thoughts, so he also went to escort the parson to the door of the great hall.

As Lord Draymore had hoped, and Viscount Wilworth had no doubt, Christine Glowford was waiting for them in the hall: she was as beautiful as she had been on that occasion, and she was not spoilt by her old, shabby, grey dress, nor by her coarse clogs, as dusty as her father's shoes. Her long, wavy hair was loose and framed her pale, thin face beautifully. The girl looked very embarrassed, and when she saw the Count of Draymore, she lowered her gaze bashfully to the floor, well aware of the impression her beauty was making on the Earl. But Christine was really excited. She went up to her father and looked anxiously into his face.