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Updated: May 9, 2025
There are those horrible scents again! Save me from them! Lancelot darling! Take me to the fresh air! I choke! I am festering away! The Nun-pool! Take all the water, every drop, and wash Ashy clean again!
But the country-folk believe, sir, that the nun's curse holds true; and they say, that Whitford folks have been getting poorer and wickeder ever since that time, and will, till the Nun-pool runs up to Ashy, and the Lavingtons' name goes out of Whitford Priors. Lancelot said nothing. A presentiment of evil hung over him. He was utterly down-hearted about Tregarva, about Argemone, about the poor.
He longed to ask Tregarva, but he was afraid not of the man, for there was a delicacy in his truthfulness which encouraged the most utter confidence; but of the subject itself; but curiosity conquered. 'What did Old Harry mean about the Nun-pool? he said at last. 'Every one seemed to understand him. 'Ah, sir, he oughtn't to have talked of it!
And she told him, "That the curse of the nuns of Whitford should be on him and his, till they helped the poor in the spirit of the nuns of Whitford, and the Nun-pool ran up to Ashy Down." 'That time is not come yet, said Lancelot. 'But the worst is to come, sir.
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