CHAPTER XXVIII 412
I could not bear to return to the sordid village , where , besides , no prospect of aid was visible . I should have longed rather to deviate to a wood I saw not far off , which appeared in its thick shade to offer inviting shelter ; but I was so sick , so weak , so gnawed with nature ' s cravings , instinct kept me roaming round abodes where there was a chance of food . Solitude would be no solitude -- rest no rest -- while the vulture , hunger , thus sank beak and talons in my side .
I drew near houses ; I left them , and came back again , and again I wandered away : always repelled by the consciousness of having no claim to ask -- no right to expect interest in my isolated lot . Meantime , the afternoon advanced , while I thus wandered about like a lost and starving dog . In crossing a field , I saw the church spire before me : I hastened towards it . Near the churchyard , and in the middle of a garden , stood a well-built though small house , which I had no doubt was the parsonage . I remembered that strangers who arrive at a place where they have no friends , and who want employment , sometimes apply to the clergyman for introduction and aid . It is the clergyman ' s function to help -- at least with advice -- those who wished to help themselves . I seemed to have something like a right to seek counsel here . Renewing then my courage , and gathering my feeble remains of strength , I pushed on . I reached the house , and knocked at the kitchen-door . An old woman opened : I asked was this the parsonage ?
" Yes ." " Was the clergyman in ?" " No ." " Would he be in soon ?" " No , he was gone from home ." " To a distance ?"