The Philanthropist

Rachel did not trouble herself about the cause of all this, indeed she
was too much occupied with the gradual gliding into somewhat of her
original activity and importance in the field thus left open to her.
None the less, however, did she feel the burden of life's problems; the
intercourse she had enjoyed with Colonel Keith had excited her for a
time, but in the reaction, the old feelings returned painfully that the
times were out of joint; the heavens above became obscure and misty as
before, the dark places of the earth looked darker than ever, and those
who lived at ease seemed to be employed either in sport upon the outside
of the dungeon where the captives groaned, or in obstructing the way of
those who would fain have plunged in to the rescue.

Her new acquaintance, Mr. Mauleverer, was an example of such prevention,
which weighed much on her mind. He had been perfectly unobtrusive,
but Mrs. Curtis meeting him on the second day of his sketching, had
naturally looked at his drawing, and admired it so much that she brought
her daughters to see it when in course of completion the next day. He
had then asked whether there would be any objection to his making use of
the sketches in the way of remunerative sale. Mrs. Curtis looked rather
taken aback, it hardly agreed with her exclusive notions of privacy, and
he at once apologized with such humility that she was touched, and felt
herself doing him a wrong, whilst Rachel was angry at her scruple, yet
uncomfortably thought of "that landscape painter," then said in her
decided way, "you did not mean to object, mother?"