He was now some forty years of age, but of these he had not been in possession even of his present benefice for more than four or five.

The first ten years of his life as a clergyman had been passed in performing the duties and struggling through the life of a curate in a bleak, ugly, cold parish on the northern coast of Cornwall.

It had been a weary life and a fearful struggle, made up of duties ill requited and not always satisfactorily performed, of love and poverty, of increasing cares, of sickness, debt, and death.
For Mr.Crawley had married almost as soon as he was ordained, and children had been born to him in that chill, comfortless Cornish cottage.

He had married a lady well educated and softly nurtured, but not dowered with worldly wealth.

They two had gone forth determined to fight bravely together; to disregard the world and the world's ways, looking only to God and to each other for their comfort.