Father Payne | Page 5

tea." He mentioned the names of the
men present, who came and shook hands very cordially. Barthrop gave
me some tea, and I was inducted into a chair by the fire. I thought for a
moment that I was taking Father Payne's place, and feebly murmured
something about taking his chair. "They're all mine, thanks!" he said
with a smile, "but I claim no privileges." Someone gave a faint whistle
at this, and Father Payne, turning his eyes but not his head towards the
young man who had uttered the sound, said: "All right, Pollard, if you
are going to be mutinous, we shall have a little business to transact
together, as Mr. Squeers said." "Oh, I'm not mutinous, sir," said the
young man--"I'm quite submissive--I was just betrayed into it by
amazement!" "You shouldn't get into the habit of thinking aloud," said
Father Payne; "at least not among bachelors--when you are married you
can do as you like!--I hope you are polite?" he went on, looking round
at me. "I think so," I said, feeling rather shy, "That's right," he said. "It's
the first and only form of virtue! If you are only polite, there is nothing
that you may not do. This is a school of manners, you know!" One of
the men, Rose by name, laughed--a pleasant musical laugh. "I
remember," he said, "that when I was a boy at Eton, my excellent but
very bluff and rough old tutor called upon us, and was so much taken
up with being hearty, that he knocked over the coal-scuttle, and didn't
let anyone get a word in; and when he went off in a sort of whirlwind,
my old aunt, who was an incisive lady, said in a meditative tone: 'How
strange it is that the only thing that the Eton masters seem able to teach
their boys is the only thing they don't themselves possess!'"
Father Payne uttered a short, loud laugh at this, and said: "Is there any
chance of meeting your aunt?" "No, sir, she is long since dead!" "Blew
off too much steam, perhaps," said Father Payne. "That woman must
have had the steam up! I should have liked to have known her--a
remarkable woman! Have you any more stories of the same sort about
her?"
"Not to-day," said Rose, smiling.
"Quite right," said Father Payne. "You keep them for an acceptable

time. Never tell strings of stories--and, by the way, my young friends,
that's the art of writing. Don't cram in good things--space them out,
Barthrop!"
"I think I can spread the butter as thin as anyone," said Barthrop,
smiling.
"So you can, so you can!" said Father Payne enthusiastically, "and very
thin slices too! I give you full credit for that!"
The men had begun to drift away, and I was presently left alone with
Father Payne. "Now you come along of me!" he said to me; and when I
got up, he took my arm in a pleasant fashion, led me to a big curtained
archway at the far end of the hall, under the gallery, and along a
flagged passage to the right. As we went he pointed to the
doors--"Smoking-room--Library"--and at the end of the passage he
opened a door, and led me into a small panelled room with a big
window, closely curtained. It was a solid and stately place, wholly bare
of ornament. It had a writing-table, a bookcase, two armchairs of
leather, a fine fireplace with marble pillars, and an old painting let into
the panelling above it. There was a bright, unshaded lamp on the table.
"This is my room," he said, "and there's nothing in it that I don't use,
except those pillars; and when I haul on them, like Samson, the house
comes down. Now you sit down there, and we'll have a talk. Do you
mind the light? No? Well, that's all right, as I want to have a good look
at you, you know! You can get a smoke afterwards--this is business!"
He sate down in the chair opposite me, and stirred the fire. He had fine,
large, solid hands, the softness of which, like silk, had struck me when
I shook hands with him; and, though he was both elderly and bulky, he
moved with a certain grace and alertness. "Tell me your tale from the
beginning," he said, "Don't leave out any details--I like details. Let's
have your life and death and Christian sufferings, as the tracts say."
He heard me with much patience, sometimes smiling, sometimes
nodding, when I had finished, he said: "Now I must ask you a few
questions--you don't mind if they are plain questions--rather unpleasant
questions?" He bent his brows upon me and smiled. "No," I said, "not
at all." "Well, then," he said, "where's