The Vicar of Wrexhill Part 33

f.a.n.n.y suddenly became as red as scarlet.

"The alternate verses, I mean, in praise and glory of our excellent minister. He brought them to me himself, and we read them together, and we almost shed tears of tender blessing on you both, dear children!"

Charles, who thought, and with great satisfaction, that whatever stuff his poor little sister might have written, she was now very heartily ashamed of it, wis.h.i.+ng to relieve her from the embarra.s.sment, which nevertheless he rejoiced to see, rose from his chair, and approaching a window, said, "What a very pleasant room you have here, Mrs. Simpson; it is almost due east, is it not? If the room over it be your apartment, I should think the sun must pay you too early a visit there, unless your windows are well curtained."

"Oh, Mr. Mowbray! Sunrise is such a time of praise and blessing, that, even though the curtains are drawn, I always try, if I am awake, to think how heavenly it is looking outside."

"Are you an early riser, Mrs. Simpson?" said Helen.

"Not very,--at least not always; but since my election I have been endeavouring to get down to prayers by about half-past eight. It is so delightful to think how many people are coming down stairs to prayers just at half-past eight!"

"Your little girl is very much grown, Mrs. Simpson," said Miss Torrington, willing to try another opening by which to escape from under the heels of the lady's hobby; but it did not answer.

"Hold up your head, Mimima dear!" said the mamma; "and tell these ladies what you have been learning lately. She is still rather shy; but it is going off, I hope. Precious child! she is grown such a prayerful thing, Miss f.a.n.n.y, you can't imagine. Mimima, why did you not eat up all your currant-pudding yesterday? tell Miss f.a.n.n.y Mowbray!"

"Because it is wicked to love currant-pudding," answered the child, folding her little hands one over the other upon the bosom of her plain frock, no longer protruding in all directions its sumptuous chevaux-de-frise of lace and embroidery.

"Darling angel! And why, my precious! is it wicked?"

"Because it is a sin to care for our vile bodies, and because we ought to love nothing but the Lord."

"Is not that a blessing?" said Mrs. Simpson, again turning to f.a.n.n.y.

"And how can I be grateful enough to the angelic man who has put me and my little one in the right way?"

It was really generous in good Mrs. Simpson to give all the praise due for the instruction and religious awakening of her little girl to the vicar, for it was in truth entirely her own work; as it generally happened, that when Mr. Cartwright paid her a visit, fearing probably that the movements of a child might disturb his nerves, she dismissed her little Mimima to her nursery.

One or two more attempts on the part of Helen to bring the conversation to a tone that she should consider as more befitting the neighbourly chit-chat of a morning visit, and, in plain English, less tinctured with blasphemy, having been made and failed, she rose and took her leave, the rest of her party following; but not without f.a.n.n.y's receiving another embrace, and this fervent farewell uttered in her ear:

"The saints and angels bless and keep you, dear sister!"

After quitting the house of this regenerated lady, the party proposed to make a visit to that of Mrs. Richards; but Miss Cartwright expressed a wish to go to the Vicarage instead, and begged they would call at the door for her as they pa.s.sed. Miss Torrington offered to accompany her, but this was declined, though not quite in her usual cynical manner upon such occasions; and, could Rosalind have followed her with her eye up the Vicarage hill, she would have seen that she stopped and turned to look down upon the common and its trees, just at the spot where they had stood together before.

On entering Mrs. Richards's pretty flower-scented little saloon, they were startled and somewhat embarra.s.sed at finding that lady in tears, and Major Dalrymple walking about the room with very evident symptoms of discomposure. Helen, who, like every body else in the neighbourhood, was perfectly aware of the major's unrequited attachment, or, at any rate, his unsuccessful suit, really thought that the present moment was probably intended by him to decide his fate for ever; and felt exceedingly distressed at having intruded, though doubtful whether to retreat now would not make matters worse. Those who followed her shared both her fears and her doubts; but not so the widow and the major; who both, after the interval of a moment, during which Mrs. Richards wiped her eyes, and Major Dalrymple recovered his composure, declared with very evident sincerity that they were heartily glad to see them.

"We are in the midst of a dispute, Mowbray," said the major, addressing Charles; "and I will bet a thousand to one that you will be on my side, whatever the ladies may be. Shall I refer the question to Charles Mowbray, Mrs. Richards?"

"Oh yes! I shall like to have it referred to the whole party!" she replied.

"Well then, this it is:--I need not tell you, good people, that the present vicar of Wrexhill is--but _holt la_!" he exclaimed, suddenly stopping himself and fixing his eyes on f.a.n.n.y; "I am terribly afraid by the trim cut of that little bonnet, that there's one amongst us that will be taking notes. Is it so, Miss f.a.n.n.y? Are you as completely over head and ears in love with the vicar, as your friend little Mary? and, for that matter, Louisa, Charlotte, Mrs. Simpson, Miss Mimima Simpson, Dame Rogers the miller's wife, black-eyed Betsey the tailor's daughter, Molly Tomkins, Sally Finden, Jenny Curtis, Susan Smith, and about threescore and ten more of our parish, have all put on the armour of righteousness, being buckled, belted, and spurred by the vicar himself.

Are you really and truly become one of his babes of grace, f.a.n.n.y?"

"If it is your intention to say any thing disrespectful of Mr.

Cartwright," replied f.a.n.n.y, "I had much rather not hear it. I will go and look at your roses, Mrs. Richards;" and, as Mrs. Richards did not wish her to remain, she quietly opened the gla.s.s-door which led into the garden, let her pa.s.s through it, and then closed it after her.

"Pretty creature!" exclaimed Major Dalrymple; "what a pity!"

"It will not last, major," said Charles. "He has scared her conscience, which is actually too pure and innocent to know the sound of its own voice; and then he seized upon her fanciful and poetic imagination, and set it in arms against her silly self, till she really seems to see the seven mortal sins, turn which way she will; and I am sure she would stand for seven years together on one leg, like an Hindoo, to avoid them. She is a dear good little soul, and she will get the better of all this trash, depend upon it."

"I trust she will, Mowbray; but tell me, while the mischief is still at work, shall you not think it right to banish the causer of it from your house? For you must know this brings us exactly to the point at issue between Mrs. Richards and me. She is breaking her heart because her three girls--ay, little Mary and all--have been bit by this black tarantula; and because she (thank Heaven!) has escaped, her daughters have thought proper to raise the standard of rebellion, and to tell her very coolly, upon all occasions, that she is doomed to everlasting perdition, and that their only chance of escape is never more to give obedience or even attention to any word she can utter."

The major stopped, overcome by his own vehemence; and Charles would have fancied that he saw tears in his eyes, if he had dared to look at him for another moment.

Rosalind, who had more love and liking for Mrs. Richards than is usually the growth of six months' acquaintance, had placed herself close beside her, and taken her hand; but, when Major Dalrymple ceased speaking, she rose up, and with a degree of energy that probably surprised all her hearers, but most especially Charles and Helen, she said: "If, Major Dalrymple, you should be the first in this unfortunate parish of Wrexhill to raise your voice against this invader of the station, rights, and duties of a set of men in whose avocations he has neither part nor lot, you will deserve more honour than even the field of Waterloo could give you! Yes! turn him from your house, dear friend, as you would one who brought poison to you in the guise of wholesome food or healing medicine. Let him never enter your doors again; let him preach (if preach he must) in a church as empty as his own pretensions to holiness; and if proper authority should at length be awaked to chase him from a pulpit that belongs of right to a true and real member of the English church, then let him buy a sixpenny licence, if he can get it, to preach in a tub, the only fitting theatre for his doctrines."

"Bravo!" cried the major in a perfect ecstasy; "do you hear her, Mrs.

Richards? Charles Mowbray, do you hear her? and will either of you ever suffer Cartwright to enter your doors again?"

"I believe in my heart that she is quite right," said Charles: "the idiot folly I have witnessed at Mrs. Simpson's this morning; and the much more grievous effects which his ministry, as he calls it, has produced here, have quite convinced me that such _ministry_ is no jesting matter. But I have no doors, Dalrymple, to shut against him; all I can do is to endeavour to open my mother's eyes to the mischief he is doing."

Helen sighed, and shook her head.

"Is, then, your good mother too far gone in this maudlin delirium to listen to him?" said the major in an accent of deep concern.

"Indeed, major, I fear so," replied Helen.

"I told you so, Major Dalrymple," said Mrs. Richards; "I told you that in such a line of conduct as you advise I should be supported by no one of any consequence, and I really do not feel courage to stand alone in it."

"And it is that very want of courage that I deplore more than all the rest," replied the major. "You, that have done and suffered so much, with all the quiet courage of a real heroine--that you should now sink before such an enemy as this, is what I really cannot see with patience."

"And whence comes this new-born cowardice, my dear Mrs. Richards?" said Rosalind.

"I will tell you, Miss Torrington," replied the black-eyed widow, her voice trembling with emotion as she spoke,--"I will tell you: all the courage of which I have ever given proof has been inspired, strengthened, and set in action by my children,--by my love for them, and their love for me. This is over: I have lost their love, I have lost their confidence. They look upon me,--even my Mary, who once shared every feeling of my heart,--they all look upon me as one accursed, separated from them through all eternity, and doomed by a decree of my Maker, decided on thousands of years before I was born, to live for countless ages in torments unspeakable. They repeat all this, and hug the faith that teaches it. Is not this enough to sap the courage of the stoutest heart that ever woman boasted?"

"It is dreadful!" cried Helen; "oh! most dreadful! Such then will be, and already are, the feelings of my mother respecting me,--respecting Charles. Yet, how she loved us! A few short months ago, how dearly she loved us both!"

"Come, come, Miss Mowbray; I did not mean to pain you in this manner,"

said the major. "Do not fancy things worse than they really are: depend upon it, your brother will take care to prevent this man's impious profanation of religion from doing such mischief at Mowbray as it has done here. Had there been any master of the House at Meadow Cottage, this gentleman, so miscalled _reverend_, would never, never, never, have got a footing there."

"Then I heartily wish there were," said Charles, "if only for the sake of setting a good example to the parish in general; but, for the Park in particular, it is as masterless as the cottage."

"I believe," said Mrs. Richards, "that amongst you I shall gain courage to be mistress here; and this, if effectually done, may answer as well.

You really advise me, then, all of you, to forbid the clergyman of the parish from entering my doors?"

"Yes," replied the major firmly; and he was echoed zealously by the rest of the party.

"So be it then," said Mrs. Richards. "But I would my enemy, for such indeed he is, held any other station among us. I could shut my doors against all the lords and ladies in the country with less pain than against the clergyman."

"I can fully enter into that feeling," said Helen: "but surely, in proportion as the station is venerable, the abuse of it is unpardonable.

Let this strengthen your resolution; and your children will recover their wits again, depend upon it. I would the same remedy could be applied with us! but you are so much respected, my dear Mrs. Richards, that I am not without hope from your example. Adieu! We shall be anxious to hear how you go on; and you must not fail to let us see you soon."

The Mowbray party, having recalled the self-banished f.a.n.n.y, then took leave, not without the satisfaction of believing that their visit had been well-timed and useful.

CHAPTER IX.

DISCUSSION ON TRUTH.--MR. CORBOLD INSTALLED.