The Autobiography of a Slander | Page 8

admires Miss Morley."
"Yes, every one thinks they are either engaged or on the brink of it.
And oh, Mr. Blackthorne, can't you or somebody put a stop to it, for it
seems such a dreadful fate for poor Gertrude?"
The curate looked startled.
"Why, I don't profess to like Mr. Zaluski," he said. "But I don't know
anything exactly against him."
"But I do. Mrs. O'Reilly has just been telling me."
"What did she tell you?" he asked with some curiosity.
"Why, she has found out that he is really a Nihilist--just think of a
Nihilist going about loose like this, and playing tennis at the rectory
and all the good houses! And not only that, but she says he is altogether
a dangerous, unprincipled man with a dreadful temper. You can't think
how unhappy she is about poor Gertrude, and so am I, for we were at
school together and have always been friends."
"I am very sorry to hear about it," said Mr. Blackthorne, "but I don't see
that anything can be done. You see, one does not like to interfere in
these sort of things. It seems officious rather, and meddlesome."

"Yes, that is the worst of it," she replied, with a sigh. "I suppose we can
do nothing. Still, it has been a great relief just to tell you about it and
get it off my mind. I suppose we can only hope that something may put
a stop to it all--we must just leave it to chance."
This sentiment amused me not a little. Leave it to chance indeed! Had
she not caused me to grow stronger and larger by every word she
uttered? And had not the conversation revealed to me Mr. Blackthorn's
one vulnerable part? I knew well enough that I should be able to
dominate his thoughts as I had done hers. Finding me burdensome, she
had passed me on to somebody else with additions that vastly increased
my working powers, and then she talked of leaving it to chance! The
way in which mortals practise pious frauds on themselves is really
delightful! And yet Lena Houghton was a good sort of girl, and had
from her childhood repeated the catechism words which proclaim that,
"My duty to my neighbour is to love him as myself . . . To keep my
tongue from evil-speaking, lying, and slandering." What is more, she
took great pains to teach these words to a big class of Sunday School
children, and went, rain or shine, to spend two hours each Sunday in a
stuffy school-room for that purpose. It was strange that she should be
so ready to believe evil of her neighbour, and so eager to spread the
story. But my progenitor is clever, and doubtless knows very well,
whom to select as his tools.
By this time they had reached a comfortable-looking, red-brick house
with white stone facings, and in the discussion of the arrangements for
the choir treat I was entirely forgotten.

MY THIRD STAGE

Alas! such is our weakness, that we often more readily believe and
speak of another that which is evil than that which is good. But perfect
men do not easily give credit to every report; because they know man's
weakness, which is very prone to evil, and very subject to fail in words.
THOMAS A KEMPIS.

All through that evening, and through the first part of the succeeding
day, I was crowded out of the curate's mind by a host of thoughts with
which I had nothing in common; and though I hovered about him as he
taught in the school, and visited several sick people, and argued with an
habitual drunkard, and worked at his Sunday sermon, a Power, which I
felt but did not understand, baffled all my attempts to gain an entrance
and attract his notice. I made a desperate attack on him after lunch as he
sat smoking and enjoying a well-earned rest, but it was of no avail. I
followed him to a large garden-party later on, but to my great
annoyance he went about talking to every one in the pleasantest way
imaginable, though I perceived that he was longing to play tennis
instead.
At length, however, my opportunity came. Mr. Blackthorne was talking
to the lady of the house, Mrs. Courtenay, when she suddenly
exclaimed:-
"Ah, here is Mr. Zaluski just arriving. I began to be afraid that he had
forgotten the day, and he is always such an acquisition. How do you do,
Mr. Zaluski?" she said, greeting my victim warmly as he stepped on to
the terrace. "So glad you were able to come. You know Mr.
Blackthorne, I think."
Zaluski greeted the curate pleasantly, and his dark eyes lighted up with
a gleam of amusement.
"Oh,