Paul Faber, Surgeon | Page 9

to her first. He liked his curate, and every one knew she hated him.
If, of any thing he did, two interpretations were possible--one good, and
one bad, there was no room for a doubt as to which she would adopt
and publish. Not even to herself, however, did she allow that one chief
cause of her hatred was, that, having all her life been used to a pair of
horses, she had now to put up with only a brougham.
To the brass knocker on her door, the rector applied himself, and sent a
confident announcement of his presence through the house. Almost
instantly the long-faced butler, half undertaker, half parish-clerk,
opened the door; and seeing the rector, drew it wide to the wall,
inviting him to step into the library, as he had no doubt Mrs. Ramshorn
would be at home to him. Nor was it long ere she appeared, in rather
youthful morning dress, and gave him a hearty welcome; after which,
by no very wide spirals of descent, the talk swooped presently upon the
curate.

"The fact is," at length said the memorial shadow of the dean deceased,
"Mr. Wingfold is not a gentleman. It grieves me to say so of the
husband of my niece, who has been to me as my own child, but the
truth must be spoken. It may be difficult to keep such men out of holy
orders, but if ever the benefices of the church come to be freely
bestowed upon them, that moment the death-bell of religion is rung in
England. My late husband said so. While such men keep to barns and
conventicles we can despise them, but when they creep into the fold,
then there is just cause for alarm. The longer I live, the better I see my
poor husband was right."
"I should scarcely have thought such a man as you describe could have
captivated Helen," said the rector with a smile.
"Depend upon it she perceives her mistake well enough by this time,"
returned Mrs. Ramshorn. "A lady born and bred must make the
discovery before a week is over. But poor Helen always was
headstrong! And in this out-of-the-world place she saw so little of
gentlemen!"
The rector could not help thinking birth and breeding must go for little
indeed, if nothing less than marriage could reveal to a lady that a man
was not a gentleman.
"Nobody knows," continued Mrs. Ramshorn, "who or what his
father--not to say his grandfather, was! But would you believe it! when
I asked her who the man was, having a right to information concerning
the person she was about to connect with the family, she told me she
had never thought of inquiring. I pressed it upon her as a duty she owed
to society; she told me she was content with the man himself, and was
not going to ask him about his family. She would wait till they were
married! Actually, on my word as a lady, she said so, Mr. Bevis! What
could I do? She was of age, and independent fortune. And as to
gratitude, I know the ways of the world too well to look for that."
"We old ones"--Mrs. Ramshorn bridled a little: she was only
fifty-seven!--"have had our turn, and theirs is come," said the rector
rather inconsequently.
"And a pretty mess they are like to make of it!--what with infidelity and
blasphemy--I must say it--blasphemy!--Really you must do something,
Mr. Bevis. Things have arrived at such a pass that, I give you my word,
reflections not a few are made upon the rector for committing his flock

to the care of such a wolf--a fox I call him."
"To-morrow I shall hear him preach," said the parson.
"Then I sincerely trust no one will give him warning of your intention:
he is so clever, he would throw dust in any body's eyes."
The rector laughed. He had no overweening estimate of his own
abilities, but he did pride himself a little on his common sense.
"But," the lady went on, "in a place like this, where every body talks, I
fear the chance is small against his hearing of your arrival. Anyhow I
would not have you trust to one sermon. He will say just the opposite
the next. He contradicts himself incredibly. Even in the same sermon I
have heard him say things diametrically opposite."
"He can not have gone so far as to advocate the real presence: a rumor
of that has reached me," said the rector.
"There it is!" cried Mrs. Ramshorn. "If you had asked me, I should
have said he insisted the holy eucharist meant neither more nor less
than any other meal to which some said a grace. The man has not an
atom