George Leatrim | Page 3

the money
transactions of the family went through his hands; and, like most old
servants, his sway over the household was despotic. The Doctor gave
him his own way in everything, for it saved him a great deal of trouble.
His mind was too much engrossed with his ministerial duties to attend
to these minor concerns. Ralph was a better business man, he said; he
could manage such matters more skilfully and economically than he
could.
'If Mrs. Leatrim came to consult him about any domestic arrangements,
it was always put a stop to. "Don't trouble me, Mary; go to Ralph, he
can advise you what to do." Poor Mrs. Leatrim did not like Ralph as
well as her husband did, and would much rather have had the sanction
of the legitimate master of the house.
'By his fellow-servants the old grey-headed factotum was almost
detested. They could receive orders from the rector, and yield to him
cheerful and hearty obedience; but to be under the control of a stingy,
canting old hypocrite like Ralph Wilson was hard to be borne. The
Bible, that was so often in his mouth, might have taught him 'that no
man can serve two masters.' This fact was fully illustrated in their case,
for they loved the one and hated the other. There was always trouble in
the household--a perpetual changing of domestics, greatly to the
annoyance of Mrs. Leatrim; but the matter was one of small importance
to the rector, provided he was left in peace to pursue his studies.
'Amiable and gentle as George was, he could not force himself to feel
any affection for Ralph Wilson. He treated him with respect for his
father's sake, more than from any personal regard, though the old man

was servile in his protestations of love and devotion. Some minds are
surrounded by a moral and intellectual atmosphere, into which other
minds cannot enter without feeling a certain degree of repulsion. Such
an insensible but powerfully acknowledged antagonism existed
between the faithful old servant and his young master. They did not
hate one another--that would have been too strong a term--but Doctor
Leatrim often remarked with pain that there was no love lost between
them, and often blamed George for the indifference he manifested
towards his humble friend.
'You remember the beautiful old church at Westcliff, surrounded by its
venerable screen of oaks and elms, and the pretty white parsonage on
the other side of the road, facing the principal entrance to the church?
The house occupies an elevation some feet above the churchyard. The
front windows command a fine view of the sacred edifice, particularly
of the carved porch within the iron gates at the entrance, and the
massive oak door through which you enter into the body of the building.
A person standing at one of these windows at sunset, and looking
towards the porch, can see everything there as distinctly as if he were in
it. Recollect this circumstance, for it is connected with my story.
'In the porch Dr. Leatrim had placed a box against the wall, on the
right-hand side as you went in, for receiving contributions for the poor.
It was only unlocked twice a year, at Christmas and Easter, and its
contents distributed to the most needy among his parishioners. There
were many wealthy people in the neighbourhood, and the poor-box
generally yielded a plentiful harvest for the destitute.
'The key of the box was always kept in the rector's study, and occupied
the same hook with the key of the church. The windows of this room
were directly opposite to the church. No person had access to this
apartment but Dr. Leatrim, his wife and son, and old Ralph. The latter
kept it in order, for fear the women folk should disarrange his master's
papers. He performed all the dusting and cleaning, and never was there
a room kept more scrupulously neat. He had a private desk for his own
use under one of the windows, in which he kept all the accounts that
passed through his hands; and it was not an unusual sight to see the

Doctor composing his startling, soul-awakening sermons at the large
table in the centre of the room, and the little shrewd-looking,
grey-haired house-steward dotting down figures quietly at the desk
below the window. His presence never disturbed his master, who often
read to him portions of the discourse he was writing, for his approval.
Ralph's applause gave him confidence; he considered his judgment in
spiritual matters more correct than his own.
'On opening the poor-box at Christmas, the rector was surprised to find
that an unusually small sum had been deposited. He could not account
for the falling off, but made up the deficiency from his own purse, and
thought no more