MO/r. ''1 \r^ -:5> ^\Ul'N"^"'"' '• O ^lOSANCEia. -n <=> / r /r— r^ = ( (1 ^ i / 3 6^ "t^n- ' O ui. J>^ 1 -< =^ a i «£y ^.5 %a]/\iNa3WV^ n*. 'OSANGElfX/ ^Mfl'N ^ !? '^fl-3WV ■^ ^ ifiARYOc. ^^IIIBRARYO^ ivojoV ^,i/0JllV3-J0^ >- y ^OF-CAIIFO/?^ iiaiH^"^ ^(^Aavaaii-^^"^ >- ^ v.in^-Avrnrr <■ 5 O VJ J/ II I I I J I 3* O vvlOSANCElfj> '^^/smmi^ ^ 5 1 v^lOSANCElfX;^ -y o Q - -n W 1^ %J13AlNn-3WV' yt n5? ^^^^l•lIBRARYQ^ ^ "^(l/OJ ^ '"^r u^oFc; M vr. je ^^ s^ ^^: THE VICAR OF WREXHILL. VOL. II. I- O N U O N : SCHUI.ZE AND CO. 1.'!, POLAND STREET. ^ K fX^^^^!^<^^ THE VICAR or WREXHILL. BY MRS. TROLLOPE. AUTHOR OF JONATHAN JEFFERSON WHITLAW," " DOMESTIC MANNERS OF THE AMERICANS," " TREMORDYN CLIFF," &C. Les boiis et vrais divots qu'on doit suivre ii la trace Ne sont pas ceux aussi qui font tant rie grimace. He, quoi !. . . .vous ne ferez nulle distinction Entre I'hypocrisie et la devotion ? Vous les voulez traiter d'un semblable langage, Et rendre mSme honueur au masque qu'au visage' MOLIERE. '{ SECOND EDITION. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: RICHARD BEiYTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 1838. THE VICAR OF WREXHILL. CHAPTER I. CHARLES Mowbray's arrival at the park. Never had Rosalind Torrington so strongly- felt the want of some one to adAdse her what to do, as the morning after this disagreeable scene. Had she consulted her inclination only, she would have remained in her own apart- ments till the return of Mrs. Mowbray and Helen. But more than one reason prevented her doing so. In the first place, she was not without hope that her letter would immedi- ately bring young Mowbray home; and it would be equally disagreeable to miss seeing him, by remaining in her dressing-room, or to leave it expressly for the purpose of doing VOL. II. B 2 THE VICAR OF SO : and secondly, however far her feelings might be from perfect confidence and esteem towards Miss Cartwright, she felt that she owed her something, and that it would be ungrateful and almost cruel to leave her tete- a-t^te with the bewildered Fanny, or en tiers with her and the vicar. She therefore determined to run the risk of encountering Mr. Cartwright as usual, but felt greatly at a loss how to treat him. Their last demele had been too serious to be forgot- ten by either; and her opinion of him was such, that far from wishing to conciliate him, or in any way to efface the impression of what she had said on leaving him, her inclination and her principles both led her to wish that it should be indeUble, and that nothing should ever lessen the distance that was now placed between them. But Rosalind felt all the diffi- culty of maintaining this tone towards a per- son not only on terms of intimate friendship with the family, but considered by part of it as a man whose word ought to be law. She began to fear, as she meditated on the position in which she was placed, that Mowbray Park could not long continue to be her home. The idea of Helen, and what she would feel at "WREXHILL. 3 losing her, drew tears from her eyes ; and then the remembrance of her Irish home, of her lost parents, and the terrible contrast between what she had heard last night, and the lessons and opinions of her dear father, made them flow abundantly. The day passed heavily. Miss Cartwright appeared to think she had done enough, and devoted herself almost wholly to the perusal of a French metaphysical work which she had found in the library. Fanny was silent and sad, and seemed carefully to avoid being left for a moment alone with Rosalind. Mr. Cartwright made no visit to the house dur- ing the morning ; but Judy informed her mis- tress, when she came to arrange her dress for dinner, that the reverend gentleman had been walking in the shrubberies with Miss Fanny ; and in the evening he made his entrance, as usual, through the drawing-room window. It was the result of a strong effort pro- duced by very excellent feeling, that kept Rosalind in the room when she saw him ap- proach ; but she had little doubt that if she went. Miss Cartwright would follow her, and she resolved that his pernicious tetes- a-t6te with B 2 4 THE VICAR OF Fanny should not be rendered more frequent by any selfishness of hers. It was evident to her from Mr. Cartwright's maimer through the whole evening, that it was his intention to overload her with gentle kindness, in order to set off in strong relief her harsh and persecuting spirit towards him. But not even her wish to defeat this plan could enable her to do more than answ^er by civil monosyllables when he spoke to her. Miss Cartwright laid aside her book and resumed her netting as soon as she saw him approach ; but, as usual, she sat silent and abs- tracted, and the conversation was wholly car- ried on by the vicar and his pretty proselyte. No man, perhaps, had a greater facility in making conversation than the Vicar of Wrex- hill : his habit of extempore preaching, in which he was thought by many to excel, pro- bably contributed to give him this power. But not only had he an endless flow of words wherev.ith to clothe whatever thoughts sug- gested themselves, but moreover a most happy faculty of turning everything around him to account. Every object, animate or inanimate, furnished him a theme ; and let him begin WREXHILL. 5 from what point he would, (unless in the pre- sence of noble or influential personages to whom he believed it would be distasteful,) he never failed to bring the conversation round to the subject of regeneration and grace, the blessed hopes of himself and his sect, and the assured damnation of all the rest of the world. Fanny Mowbray listened to him with an earnestness that amounted to nervous anxietv, lest she should lose a word. His awful doe:- mas had taken fearful hold of her ardent and ill-regulated imagination ; while his bland and affectionate manner, his fine features and grace- ful person, rendered him altogether an object of the most unbounded admiration and interest to her. As an additional proof, probably, that he did not shrink from persecution, Mr. Cart- wright again opened the piano-forte as soon as the tea equipage was removed, and asked Fanny if she would sing with him. " With you, Mr. Cartwright !" she exclaim- ed in an accent of glad surprise : " 1 did not know that you sang. Oh ! how I wish that I were a greater proficient, that I might sing with you as I would wish to do !" b THE VICAR OF " Sing with me, my dear child, with that sweet and pious feehng which I rejoice to see hourly increasing in your heart. Sing thus, my dearest child, and you will need no greater skill than Heaven is sure to give to all who raise their voice to the glory of God. This little book, my dear Miss Fanny," he con- tinued, drawing once more the manuscript volume from his pocket, " contains much that your pure and innocent heart will approve. Do you know this air ?^' and he pointed to the notes of " La ci darem' la mano.'^ " Oh yes \" said Fanny ; " I know it very well." " Then play it, my good child. This too we have taken as spoil from the enemy, and instead of profane Italian words, you will here find in your own language thoughts that may be spoken without fear." Fanny instantly complied ; and though her power of singing was greatly inferior to that of Rosalind, the performance, aided by the fine bass voice of Mr. Cartwright, and an ac- companiment very correctly played, was very agreeable. Fanny herself thought she had never sung so well before, and required only to be told by the vicar what she was to do WREXHILL. 7 next, to prolong the performance till consi- derably past Mr. Cartwright's usual hour of retiring. About an hour after the singing began, Henrietta approached Miss Torrington, and said in a whisper too low to be heard at the instrument, " My head aches dreadfully. Can you spare me ?" As she had not spoken a single syllable since the trio entered the drawing-room after dinner, Rosalind could not wholly refrain from a smile as she replied " Why, yes ; I think I can." " I am not jesting ; I am suffering, Rosa- lind. You will not leave that girl alone with him?" " Dear Henrietta !" cried Rosalind, taking her hand with ready sympathy, " I will not, should they sing psalms till morning. But is there nothing I can do for you — nothing I can give you that may relieve your head ?'' " Nothing, nothing ! Good night !" and she glided out of the room unseen by Fanny and unregarded by her father. It more than once occurred to Miss Tor- rington during the two tedious hours that followed her departure, that Mr. Cartwright, 8 THE VICAR OF who from time to time stole a glance at her, prolonged his canticles for the purpose of making her sit to hear them ; a species of pe- nance for her last night's offence by no means ill imagined. At length, however, he departed ; and after exchanging a formal " Good night," the young ladies retired to their separate apartments. Rosalind rose with a heavy heart the fol- lowing morning, hardly knowing whether to wish for a letter from Charles Mowbray, which it was just possible the post might bring her, or not- ]f a letter arrived, there would cer- tainly be no hope of seeing him ; but if it did not, she should fancy every sound she heard foretold his approach, and she almost dreaded the having to answer all the questions he would come prepared to ask. This state of suspense, however, did not last long ; for, at least one hour before it was possi- ble that a letter could arrive, Charles Mowbray in a chaise and four foaming post-horses rattled up to the door. Rosalind descried him from her window be- fore he reached the house ; and her first feeling was certainly one of embarrassment, as she re- membered that it was her summons which had WREXHILL. 9 brought him there. But a moment's reflection not only recalled her motives, but the additional reasons she now had for believing she had acted wisely ; so, arming herself with the conscious- ness of being right, she hastened down stairs to meet him, in preference to receiving a message through a servant, requesting to see her. She found him, as she expected, in a state of considerable agitation and alarm ; and feel- ing most truly anxious to remove whatever portion of this was unnecessary, she greeted him with the most cheerful aspect she could assume, saying, " I fear my letter has terrified you, Mr. Mowbray, more than I wished it to do. But be quite sure that now you are here, everything will go on as it ought to do ; and of course, when your mother returns, we can neither of us have any farther cause of anxiety about Fanny." " And what is your cause of anxiety about her at present, Miss Torrington ? For God's sake explain yourself fully ; you know not how I have been tormenting myself by fearing I know not what." " I am bound to explain myself fully," said Rosalind gravely ; " but it is not easy, I assure you." B 3 10 THE VICAR OF " Only tell me at once what it is you fear. Do you imagine Mr. Cartwright hopes to persuade Fanny to marry him ?" " I certainly did think so," said Rosa- lind ; " but I believe now that I was mis- taken." " Thank God !" cried the young man fer- vently. " This is a great relief, Rosalind, I assure you. I believe now I can pretty well guess what it is you do fear ; and though it is provoking enough, it cannot greatly signify. We shall soon cure her of any fit of evangelic calism with which the vicar is likely to infect her." " God grant it !" exclaimed Rosalind, utter- ing a fervent ejaculation in her turn. " Never doubt it, Miss Torrington. I have heard a great deal about this Cartwright at Oxford. He is a Cambridge man, by the way, and there are lots of men there who think him quite an aj)ostle. But the thing does not take at Oxford, and I assure you, he and his elective grace are famously quizzed. But the best of the joke is, that his son was within an ace of being expelled for performing more outrageous feats in the larking line than any man in the university ; and in fact he must WREXHILL. 1 1 have been rusticated, had not his pious father taken him home before the business got wind, to prepare him privately for his degree. They say he is the greatest pickle in Oxford ; and that; spite of the new hght, his father is such an ass as to beUeve that all this is ordained by Providence only to make his election more glorious." " For his election, Mr. Mowbray, I certainly do not care much ; but for your sister — though I am aware that at her age there may be very reasonable hope that the pernicious opinions she is now imbibing may be hereafter removed, yet I am very strongly persuaded that if you were quite aware of the sort of influence used to convert her to Mr. Cartwright's Calvinistic tenets, you would not only disapprove it, but use very effectual measures to put her quite out of his way." " Indeed ! — I confess this appears to me very unnecessary. Surely the best mode of working upon so pure a mind as Fanny's is to reason with her, and to show her that by listening to those pernicious rhapsodies she is in fact withdrawing herself from the church of her fathers : but I think this may be done 12 THE VICAR OF without sending her out of Mr. Cartwright's way/' Well," replied Rosalind very meekly, now you are here, I am quite sure that you will do everything that is right and proper. Mrs. Mowbray cannot be much longer ab- sent; and when she returns, you will per- haps have some conversation with her upon the subject." " Certainly. — And so Sir Gilbert has abso- lutely refused to act as executor ?" "He has indeed, and spite of the most earnest entreaties from Helen. Whatever mischief happens, I shall always think he is answerable for it; for his refusal to act threw your mother at once upon seeking counsel from Mr. Cartwright, as to what it was necessary for her to do ; and from that hour the house has never been free from him for a single day.' " Provoking obstinacy !" replied Mowbray : " yet, after all, Rosalind, the worst mischief, as you call it, that can happen, is our not being on such pleasant terms with them as we used to be. And the colonel is at home too ; I must and will see him, let the old man be as cross WREXHILL. 13 as he will. — But where is your little saint? you don't keep her locked up, I hope, Rosalind ? And where is this Miss of the new birth that you told me of?" Young Mowbray threw a melancholy glance round the empty room as he spoke, and the kind-hearted Rosalind understood his feehngs and truly pitied him. How different was this return home from any other he had ever made ! " The room looks desolate — does it not, Mr. Mowbray ? — Even I feel it so. I will go and let Fanny know you are here ; but what reason shall I assign for your return ?" " None at all, Miss Torrington. The whim took me, and I am here. Things are so much better than I expected, that I shall probably be back again in a day or two ; but I must con- trive to see young Harrington." Rosalind left the room, heartily glad that Fanny's brother was near her, but not without some feeling of mortification at the little im- portance he appeared to attach to the informa- tion she had given him. A few short weeks before, Rosalind would have entered Fanny's room with as much free- dom as her own ; but the schism which has 14 THE VICAR OF unhappily entered so nnany English houses under the semblance of superior piety was rapidly doing its work at Mowbray Park, and the true friend, the familiar companion, the faithful counsellor, stood upon the threshold, and ventured not to enter till she had announc- ed her approach by a knock at the dressing- room door. " Come in," was uttered in a gentle and almost plaintive voice by Fanny. Miss Torrington entered, and, to her great astonishment, saw Mr. Cartwright seated be- side Fanny, a large Bible lying open on the table before them. She looked at them for one moment without speaking. The vicar spread his open hand upon the Bible, as if to point out the cause of his being there ; and as his other hand covered the lower part of his face, and his eyes rested on the sacred volume, the expression of his countenance was concealed. Fanny coloured violently, — and the more so, perhaps, because she was conscious that her appearance was considerably changed since she met Miss Torrington at brealcfast. xVll her beautiful curls had been carefully straight- ened by the application of a wet sponge ; and WREXHILL. 15 her hair was now entirely removed from her forehead, and plastered down behind her poor little distorted ears as closely as possible. Never was metamorphosis more complete. Beautiful as her features were, the lovely pic- ture which Fanny's face used to present to the eye, required her bright waving locks to com- plete its charm ; and Avithout them she looked more like a Chinese beauty on a japan screen, than like herself. Something approaching to a smile passed over RosaUnd's features, which the more readily found place there, perhaps, from the belief that Charles's arrival would soon set her ringlets curling again. " Fanny, your brother is come," said she, " and he is waiting for yovi in the drawing- room." " Charles ?" cried Fanny, forgetting for a moment her new character ; and hastily rising, she had almost quitted the room, when she recollected herself, and turning back said, " You will come too, to see Charles, Mr. Cartwright ?" " I will come as usual this evening, my dear child," said he with the appearance of great IG THE VICAR OF composure ; " but I will not break in upon him now. Was Lis return expected?" he added carelessly as he took up his hat ; and as he spoke, Rosalind thought that his eye glanced towards her. " No indeed I" replied Fanny : " I never was more surprised. Did he say, Rosalind, what it was brought him home ?" " I asked him to state his reason for it," replied Miss Torrington, " and he told me he could assign nothing but whim. " Rosalind looked in the face of the vicar as she said this, and she perceived a slight, but to her perfectly perceptible change in its expression. He was evidently relieved from some uneasy feeling or suspicion by what she had said. " Go to your brother, my dear child ; let me not detain you from so happy a meeting for a moment." Fanny again prepared to leave the room ; but as she did so, her eye chanced to rest upon her own figure reflected from a mirror above the chimney-piece. She raised her hand almost involuntarily to her hair. " Will not Charles think me looking very WREXHILL. 17 strangely?" said she, turning towards Mr. Cartwright with a blushing cheek and very bashful eye. He whispered something in her ear in reply, which heightened her blush, and induced her to answer with great earnestness, " Oh no !" and without farther doubt or delay, she ran down stairs. Miss Torrington followed her, not thinking it necessary to take any leave of the vicar, who gently found his way down stairs, and out of the house, as he had found his way into it, without troubling any servant what- ever. 18 THE VICAR OF CHAPTER II. Charles's amusement at his sister's appearance. — HE discusses her CASE WITH ROSALIND. " Rosalind and Fanny entered the drawing- room together, and young Mowbray at the sound of their approach sprang forward to meet them ; but the moment he threw his eyes on his sister, he burst forth into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, and though he kissed her again and again, still between every embrace he broke out anew, with every de- monstration of vehement mirth. " I am very glad to see you, Charles," said Fanny with a little sanctified air that certainly was very amusing ; " but I should like it better if you did not laugh at me.^' " But my dear, dear, dearest child ! how can I help it ?" replied her brother, again WREXHILL. 19 bursting into renewed laughter. " Oh Fanny, if you could but see yourself just as you look at this moment 1 Oh ! you hideous little quiz ! I would not have beheved it possible that any plastering or shearing in the world could have made you look so very ugly. Is it not wonderful, Miss Torrington ?" " It certainly alters the expression of her countenance in a very remarkable manner;" replied Rosalind. " The expression of a countenance may be changed by an alteration from within, as well as from without/^ said Fanny, taking courage, and not without some httle feeling of that com- placency which the persuasion of superior sanctity is generally observed to bestow upon its possessors. " Why, you most ugly httle beauty !" cried Charles, again giving way to merriment ; " you don't mean to tell me that the impayable ab- surdity of that poor httle face is owing to anything but your ha\ang just washed your hair?" " It is owing to conviction, Charles," re- phed Fanny with great solemnity. " Owins: to conviction ? — To conviction of what, my poor httle girl ?" 20 THE VICAR OF " To conviction that it is right, brother." " Right, child, to make that object of your- self? What in the world can you mean, Fanny ?" " I mean, brother, that I have an inward conviction of the sin and folly of dressing our mortal clay to attract the eyes and the admira- tion of the worldly." " By worldly, do you mean of all the world?" said Rosahnd. " No, Miss Torrington. By worldly, I mean those whose thoughts and wishes are fixed on the things of the earth." " And it is the admiration of such only that you wish to avoid ?" rejoined Rosalind. " Certainly it is. Spiritual-minded persons see all things in the spirit — do all things in the spirit : of such there is nothing to fear." Young Mowbray meanwhile stood looking at his sister, and listening to her words with the most earnest attention. At length he said, more seriously than he had yet spoken, " To tell you the truth, little puritan, I do not like you at all in your new masquerading suit: though it must be confessed that you play your part well, I don't want to begin lecturing you, Fanny, the moment 1 WREXHILL. 21 come home ; but I do hope you will soon get tired of this foolery, and let me see my poor father's daughter look and behave as a Chris- tian young woman ought to do. Rosalind, will you take a walk with me ? I want to have a look at my old pony." Miss Torrington nodded her assent, and they both left the room together, leaving Fanny more triumphant than mortified. " He said that my persecutions woidd begin as soon as my election ^^as made sure ! Oh ! why is he not here to sustain and comfort me ! But I will not fall away in the hour of trial ; I will not fear what man can do unto me !" The poor girl turned her eyes from the window whence she saw her brother and Rosalind walking gaily and happily, as she thought, in search of the old pony, and has- tened to take refiige in her dressing-room, now rendered almost sacred in her eyes by the pastoral visit she had that morning received there. ^ The following hour or two gave Fanny her first taste of martyrdom. She was, or at least had been, devotedly attached to her brother, and the knowing him to be so near, yet so distant from her, was terrible. Yet was she 22 THE VICAR OF not altogether without consolation. She open- ed the Bible, — that Bible that he had so lately interpreted to her (fearful profanation !) in such a manner as best to suit his own views, and by means of using the process he had taught her, though unconsciously perhaps, she contrived to find a multitude of texts, all prov- ing that she and the vicar were quite right, and all the countless myriads who thought differently, quite wrong. Then followed a thanksgiving which might have been fairly ex- pressed in such words as " Lord, I thank thee, I am not like other men V and then, as the sweet summer air waved the acacias to and fro before her windows, and her young spirit, panting for lawns and groves, sunshine and shade, suggested the idea of her brother and Rosalind enjoying it all without her, her poe- tical vein came to her relief, and she sat down to compose a hymn, in which, after rehearsing prettily enough all the delights of summer rambles through verdant fields, for four stan- zas, she completed the composition by a fifth, of which ' sin,' ' begin,^ * within,' formed the rhymes, — and ' Lord' and * reward,' the crown- ing couplet. This having recourse to " song divine" was WREXHILL. 23 a happy thought for her, inasmuch as it not only occupied time which must otherwise have hung with overwhelming weight upon her hands, but the employment soon conjured up, as she proceeded, the image of Mr. Cartwright, and the pious smile with which he would receive it from her hands, and the soft ap- proval spoken more by the eyes than the lips, and the holy caress — such, according to his authority, as that with which angel meets angel in the courts of heaven. All this was very pleasant and consoling to her feelings ; and when her hymn was finished, she determined to go down stairs, in order to sing it to some (hitherto) profane air, which she might select from among the songs of her sinful youth. As she passed the mirror, she again glanced at her disfigured little head ; but at that mo- ment she was so strong in " conviction," that, far from wishing to accommodate her new birth of coiffure to worldly eyes, she employed a minute or two in sedulously smoothing and controlling her rebellious tresses, and even held her head in stiff equilibrium to prevent their escape from behind her ears. " Good and holy man !" she exclaimed aloud, 24 THE VICAR OF as she gave a parting glance at the result of all these little pious coquetries. " How well I know what his kind words would be, if he could see me now ! ' Of such are the king- dom of heaven, Fanny,' he would say. And of such," she added with a gentle sigh, " will I strive to be, though aU the world should join together to persecute me for it." While Mr. Cartwright's prettiest convert was thus employed. Miss Torrington and Charles Mowbray J, far from being engaged in chasing a pony, or even in looking at the summer luxury of bloom which breathed around them as they pursued their way through the pleasure- grounds, were very gravely discussing the symptoms of her case. " It is a joke, Rosalind, and nothing more," said the young man, drawing her arm within his. " I really can do nothing but laugh at such folly, and I beg and entreat that you will do the same." " Then you think, of course, Mr. Mowbray, that I have been supremely absurd in sending you the summons I did ?" " Far, very far otherwise," he replied grave- ly. " It has shown me a new feature in your character, Miss Torrington, and one which not WREXHILL. 25 to admire would be a sin, worse even than poor Mr. Cartwright would consider your wearing these pretty ringlets, llosaUnd." " Poor Mr. Cartwright!" repeated Rosalind, drawing aAAay her arm. " How little do we think alike, Mr. Mowbray, concerning that man !" " The chief difference between us on the sub- ject^ I suspect, arises from your thinking of him a great deal, Rosalind, and my thinking of him very httle. I should certainly, if 1 set about reasoning on the matter, feel considerable con- tempt for a middle-aged clergyman of the Church of England who manifested his care of the souls committed to his charge by making their little bodies comb their hair straight, for the pleasure of saying that it was done upon conviction. But surely there is more room for mirth than sorrow in this." " Indeed, indeed, you are mistaken I — and that not only as regards the individual interests of your sister Farmy, — though, God knows, I think that no light matter, — but as a subject that must be interesting to every Christian soul that lives. Do not make a jest of what involves by far the most important question that can be brought before poor mortals : it is unworthy of you, Mr. Mowbray." VOL.. II. C 26 THE VICAR OF " If you take the subject in its general cha- racter," rephed Charles, " I am sure we shall not differ. I deplore as sincerely as you can do, Miss Torrington, the grievously schismatic inroad into our national church which these self-chosen apostles have made. But as one objection against them, though perhaps not the heaviest, is the contempt which their absurd puritanical ordinances have often brought upon serious things, I cannot but think that ridicule is a fair weapon to lash them withal." " It may be so,'^ rephed Rosalind, " and in truth it is often impossible to avoid using it ; but yet it does not follow that the deeds and doctrines of these soi-disant saints give more room for mirth than sorrow." " Well, Rosalind, give me your arm again, and I will speak more seriously. The very pre- posterous and ludicrous manner which Fanny, or her spiritual adviser, has chosen for showing forth her own particular regeneration, has per- haps led me to treat it more slightly than I should have done had the indications of this temporary perversion of judgment been of a more serious character. That is doubtless one reason for the mirth I have shown. Another is, that I conceive it would be more easy to WREXHILL. 27 draw poor little Fanny back again into the bosom of Mother Church by laughing at her, rather than by making her believe herself a martyr." " Your laughter is a species of martyrdom which she will be taught to glory in enduring. But at present I feel sure that all our discus- sions on this topic must be in vain. I rejoice that you are here, though it is plain that you do not think her situation requires your pre- sence ; and I will ask no further submission of your judgment to mine, tiian requesting that you will not leave Mowbray till your mother returns." " Be assured I will not : and be assured also, that however much it is possible we may differ as to the actual atrocity of this new vicar, or the danger Fanny runs in listening to him, I shall never cease to be grateful, dearest Miss Torrington, for the interest you have shown for her, and indeed for us all.'' " Acquit me of silly interference," replied Rosalind, colouring, " and I will acquit you of all obligation." " But I don't wash to be acquitted of it," said Charles rather tenderly : " you do not c 2 28 THE VICAR OF know how much pleasure I have in thinking that you already feel interested about us all !'' This was giving exactly the turn to what she had done which poor Rosalind most depre- cated. The idea that young Mowbray might imagine she had sent for him from a general feeling of interest for the family, had very nearly prevented her writing at all— and no- thing l)ut a sense of duty had conquered the repugnance she felt at doing it. It had not been a little vexing to perceive that he thought lightly of what she considered as so important; and now that in addition to this he appeared to conceive it necessary to return thanks for the interest she had manifested, Rosalind turned away her head, and not without diffi- culty restrained the tears which were gathering in her eyes from falling. She was not in general slow in finding words to express what she wished to say ; but at this moment, though extremely desirous of answering suitably, as she would have herself described the power she wanted, not a syllable would suggest itself which she had courage or inclination to speak : so, hastening her steps towards the house, she murmured, " You are very kind — it is WREXHILL. 29 almost time to dress, I believe/' and left him. Charles felt that there was something wrong between them, and decided at once very gene- rously that it must be his fault. There is nothing more difficult to trace with a skilful hand than the process by which a young man and maiden often creep into love, without either of them being at all aware at what moment they were first seized with the symp- toms. When the parties fall in love, the thing is easy enough to describe : it is a shot, a thunderbolt, a whirlwind, or a storm; no- thing can be more broadly evident than their hopes and their ecstasies, their agonies and their fears. But when affection grows un- consciously, and, like a seed of mignonette thrown at random, unexpectedly shows itself the sweetest and most valued of the hearths treasures, overpowering by its delicious breath all other fragrance, the case is different. Sometliing very like this creeping process was now going on in the heart of young Mowbray. Rosalind's beauty had appeared to him veiled by a very dark cloud on her first arrival from Ireland : she was weary, heartsick, frightened, and, moreover, dressed 30 THE VICAR OF in very unbecoming mourning. But as tears gave place to smiles, fears to hopes, and ex- hausted spirits to light-hearted cheerfulness, he found out that •' she was very pretty indeed" — and then, and then, and then, he could not tell how it happened himself, so neither can I ; but certain it is, that her letter gave him almost as much pleasure as alarm ; and if, after being convinced that there was no danger of Mr. Cartwright's becom- ing his brother-in-law, he showed a somewhat unbecoming degree of levity in his manner of treating Fanny's case, it must be attribvited to the gay happiness he felt at being so un- expectedly called home. As for the heart of Rosalind, if anything was going on therein at all out of the common way, she certainly was not aware of it. She felt vexed, anxious, out of spirits, as she sought her solitary dressing-room : but it would have been no easy task to persuade her that love had anything to do with it. WREXHILL. 31 CHAPTER IlL CHARLES WALKS OVER TO OAKLEY. — THE VICAR IMPROVES IN HIS OPINION. At the time Miss Torrington observed to Mr. Mowbray that it was near dressing-time, it wanted about four hours of dinner ; so, having followed her with his eyes as she mounted the steps and entered the house, he drew out his watch, and perceiving that he had quite enough time for the excursion before " dressing-time" would be over, set off to walk to Oakley. How far Rosalind might have been disposed to quarrel with him for the very small propor- tion of meditation which he bestowed on Fanny during his dehghtful stroll through the well- known shady lanes, or how far she might have 32 THE VICAR OF been tempted to forgive him for the much greater portion devoted to herself, it is im- possible to say ; but he arrived at Sir Gilbert's hall-door in that happy state of mind which is often the result of a delicious day-dream, vrhen Hope lends the support of her anchor to Fancy. Sir Gilbert and the colonel were out on horseback, the servant said — but " my lady is in the garden." And thither Mowbray went to seek her. He was somewhat startled at his first re- ception ; for the old lady watched his approach for some steps, standing stock-still, and with- out giving the slightest symptom of recog- nition. At length she raised her glass to her eye and discovered who the tall stranger was ; upon which she sent forth a sound greatly resembhng a view " hollo !" which imme- diately recalled the servant who had mar- shalled Mowbray to the garden, and without uttering a word of welcome, gave the following order very distinctly : " Let Richard take the brown mare and ride her sharp to Ramsden. Sir Gilbert is gone to the post-office, the bank, the sadler's, and the nursery-garden. Let him be told that Mr. WREXHILL. 33 Mowbray is waiting for him at Oakley- and let not a single instant be lost." The rapid manner in which " Very well, my lady,'^ was uttered in reply, and the man vanished out of sight, showed that the order was likely to be as promptly executed as spoken. " My dear, dear Charles!" cried the old lady; then stepping forward and placing her hands in his, " what brings you back to Mowbray ? But never mind what it is — nothing very bad, I hope, and then I must rejoice at it. I am most thankful to see you here, my dear boy. How is my sweet Helen ? — could you not bring her with you, Charles ?" " She is in London, my dear Lady Har- rington, with my mother. Where is the co- lonel ?" " With his father; — they will return to- gether ; no grass will grow under their horses' feet as they ride homeward to meet you, Charles ! But how comes it that you are at home? If you have left Oxford, why are you not with your mother and Helen ?" A moment's thought might have told Mow- c 3 54 THE VICAR OF bray that this question would certainly be asked, and must in some manner or other be answered ; but the moment's thought had not been given to it, and he now felt considerably embarrassed how to answer. He lamented the estrangement already existing, however, too sincerely, to run any risk of increasing it by ill-timed reserve, and therefore, after a mo- ment's hesitation, very frankly answered — " I can tell you, my dear lady, why I am here, more easily than I can explain for what pur- pose. I returned post to Mowbray this morn- ing, because Miss Torrington gave me a pri- vate intimation by letter, that she thought the new Vicar of Wrexhill was obtaining an undue influence over the mind of Fanny. She did not express herself very clearly, and I was fool enough to imagine that she sup- posed he was making love to lier : but I find that her fears are only for poor little Fanny's orthodoxy. Mr. Cartwright is one of the evangelical, decidedly, I believe, the most mis- chievous sect that ever attacked the esta- blished church ; and Miss Torrington, not without good reason, fears that Fanny is in danger of becoming a proselyte to his gloomy WREXHILL. 35 and unchristian-like doctrine. But, at her age, such a whim as this is not, I should hope, very likely to be lasting." " I don't know that !" replied Lady Har- rington sharply. " Miss Torrington has acted with great propriety, and exactly with the sort of promptitude and decision of character for which I should have given her credit. Be- ware, Mr. Mowbray, how you make light of the appearance of religious schism among you : it is a deadly weapon of discord, and the poi-i son in which it is dipped seldom finds an antidote either in family affection or filial obedience." " But Fanny is so nearly a child, Lady Harrington, that I can hardly believe her ca- pable of manifesting any very dangerous re- ligious zeal at present." " You don't know what you are talking about, Charles ! Of every family into which this insidious and most anti-christian schism has crept, you would find, upon inquiry, that in nine instances out of ten, it has been the young girls who have been selected as the first objects of conversion, and then made the active means of spreading it afterwards. Don't treat this matter lightly, my dear boy ! Per- 36 THE VICAR OF sonally I know nothing of this Mr. Cart- wright ; — we never leave our parish church and our excellent Dr. Broughton, to run after brawling extempore preachers ; — but I have been told by one or two of our neighbours who do, that he is what is called a shining light ; which means, being interpreted, a rant- ing, canting fanatic. Take care, above all things, that your mother does not catch the infection." " My mother ! — Oh no ! Her steady prin- ciples and quiet good sense would render such a falling oif as that quite impossible." " Very well ! I am willing to hope so. And yet, Charles, I cannot for the life of me help thinking that she must have had some other adviser than her own heart when she left my good Sir Gilbert's letter without an an- swer." " Of what letter do you speak, Lady Har- rington ?" said young Mowbray, colouring ; — " of that whereby he refused to execute the trust my father bequeathed him ?" " No, Charles ! Of that whereby he re- scinded his refusal." " Has such a letter been sent ?" inquired Mowbray eagerly. " I never heard of it." WREXHILL. 37 " Indeed ! Then we must presume that Mrs. Mowbray did not think it worth men- tioning. Such a letter has, however, been sent, Mr. Mowbray ; and I confess, I hoped, on see- ing you arrive, that 3'ou were come to give it an amicable, though somewhat tardy answer, in person." " I am greatly surprised," replied Charles, " to hear that such a letter has been received by my mother, because I had been led to be- lieve that Sir Gilbert had declared himself immovable on the subject ; but still more am I surprised that I should not have heard of it. Could Helen know it, and not tell me ? It must have been to her a source of the greatest happiness, as the one which preceded had been of the deepest mortification and sorrow." " Your sister, then, saw the first letter ?" " She did. Lady Harrington, and ^^TOte me word of it, with expressions of the most sincere regret." " But of the second she said nothins: ? That is not like Helen." *' So Httle is it like her, that I feel confident she never heard of the second letter." 38 THE VICAR OF " t believe so too, Cimrles. But what, then, are we to think of your mother's hav- ing shown the first letter, and concealed the second ?" "It cannot be ! my mother never conceals anything from us. We have never, from the moment we left the nursery, been kept m igno- rance of any circumstance of general interest to the family. My poor father's constant phrase upon all such occasions was — ' Let it be discussed in a committee of the whole house.' " I cannot understand it," repUed the old lady, seating herself upon a bench in the shade ; " but, at any rate, I rejoice that you did not all think Sir Gilbert's recantation — which was not written without an effort, I promise you — so totally unworthy of notice as you have appeared to do." Charles Mowbray seated himself beside her. and nearly an hour was passed in conversation on the same subject, or others connected with it. At the end of that time. Sir Gilbert, booted and spurred, appeared at the door of the mansion, followed by his son. There was an angry spot upon his cheek, and though it WREXHILL. 39 was sufficiently evident that lie was eager to meet young Mowbray, it was equally so that he was displeased with him. Lady Harrington, however, soon cleared the way to the most frank and cordial communi- cation, rendering all explanation unnecessary by exclaiming, " He has never seen nor heard of your second letter, Sir Gilbert — nor Helen either." The baronet stood still for a moment, look- ing with doubt and surprise first at his wife, and then at his guest. The doubt, however, vanished in a moment, and he again advanced, and now with an extended hand, towards Charles. A conversation of some length ensued ; but as it consisted wholly of conjectures upon a point that they were all equally unable to explain, it is unnecessary to repeat it. The two young men met each other with expres- sions of the most cordial regard, and before they parted. Colonel Harrington related the conversation he had held with Helen and Miss Torrington, the result" of which was his father's having despatched the letter whose fate ap- peared involved in so much mystery. Lady Harrington, notwithstanding those who 40 THE VICAR OF did not love her, called her masculine, showed some feminine tact in not mentioning, to Sir Gilbert that it was a letter from Miss Torring- ton which had recalled Charles. It is pro- bable that when her own questionings had forced this avowal from him, she had per- ceived some shade of embarrassment in his answer; but she failed not to mention the serious turn that Fanny Mowbray appeared to have taken, and her suspicions that the new Vicar of Wrexhill must have been rather more assiduous than was desirable in his visits at the Park. " The case is clear — clear as daylight, my lady : I understand it all. ' By their fruits ye shall know them,^ — and by them shall ye know their fruits. Stop a moment, Charles : if you won't stay dinner, you must stay while I furnish you with a document by means of which you may, I think, make a useful ex- periment." Without waiting for an answer. Sir Gilbert left the party in the garden and hurried into the house, whence he returned in a few minutes Vv'ith a scrap of paper in his hand. " Fortunately, Charles, very fortunately, I have kept a copy of my last note to your WREXHILL. 41 mother. I am sure I know not what induced me to keep it : had such a thing happened to Mr. Cartwright, he would have declared it providential — but I in my modesty only call it lucky. — Take this paper, Charles, and read it if you will : 'tis a d — d shame you have not read it before ! You say, I think, that the vicar is expected at Mowbray this even- ing : just put this scrap of paper into his hand, and ask him if he ever read it before. Let him say what he will, I give you credit for sufficient sharpness to find out the truth. If he has seen it, I shall know whom I have to thank for the insolent contempt it has met with." " But my mother !" cried Charles with emo- tion. " Is it possible that she could conceal such a note as this from her children, and show it to this man ? Sir Gilbert, I cannot be- lieve it." " I don't like to believe it myself, Charles ; upon my soul I don't. But what can we think ? At any rate, make the experiment to-night ; it can do no harm ; and come here to dinner to- morrow to tell us the result." " I will come to you with the greatest plea- sure, and bring you all the intelligence I 42 THE VICAR OF can get. My own opinion is, that the note was lost before it reached my mother's hands. The usual hour, I suppose. Sir Gilbert, — six o'clock ?" " Six o'clock, Charles, — and, as usual, punc- tual to a moment." When Mowbray reached his home, it was in truth rather more than time to dress ; but he kept the young ladies waiting as short a time as possible. Fanny presented him in proper style to Miss Cartwright as soon as he appear- ed in the drawing-room ; and he had the honour of giving that silent young lady his arm to the dining-room. Charles thought her deep-set black eyes very handsome ; nevertheless he secretly wished that she were a hundred miles off, for her presence, of course, checked every approach to confiden- tial conversation. Nothing, indeed, could well be more dull and unprofitable than this dinner. Miss Cart- wright spoke not at all ; Fanny, no more than was necessary for the performance of her duty at the head of the table ; and Rosalind looked pale and languid, and so completely out of spirits that every word she spoke seemed a painful eifort to her. She was occupied in re- WREXHILL. 43 calling to mind the tone and air of the party who dined together in that same room about six months before, when Charles had last re- turned from Oxford. The contrast these re- collections offered to the aspect of the present party was most painful ; and as Rosalind turned her eyes round the table with a look of wistful melancholy, as if looking for those who were no longer there, her thoughts were so legibly written on her countenance that Mow- bray understood them as plainly as if they had been spoken. " Rosalind, will you take wine with me ? — You look tired and pale." This was said in a tone of affectionate interest that seemed to ex- cite the attention of Henrietta ; and when Miss Torrington raised her eyes to answer it, she observed that young lady's looks fixed on Mr. Mowbray's countenance with an expression that denoted curiosity. The whole party seemed glad to escape from the dinner-table ; and the young ladies, with light shawls and parasols, had just wandered out upon the lawn, when they met Mr. Cart- wright approaching the house. Fanny coloured, and looked at her brother. Miss Cartwright coloured too; and her eyes 44 THE VICAR OF followed the direction of Fanny's, as if to see how this familiar mode of approach was ap- proved by Mr. Mowbray. Charles certainly felt a little surprised, and did not take much pains to conceal it. For a moment he looked at the vicar, as if not quite certain who it was, and then, touch- ing his hat with ceremonious politeness, said haughtily enough " Mr. Cartwright, I be- lieve ?" It would have been difficult for any one to find fault with the manner in which this salu- tation was returned. In a tone admirably mo- dulated between profound respect and friendly kindness, his hat raised gracefully from his head to greet the whole party, and his hand- some features wearing an expression of the gentlest benevolence, Mr. Cartwright hoped that he had the happiness of seeing Mr. Mow- bray well. Charles felt more than half ashamed of the reception he had given him, and stretched out his hand as if to atone for it. The vicar felt his advantage, and pursued it by the most easy, winning, yet respectful style of conversation. His language and manners became completely those of an accomplished man of the world; WREXHILL. 45 his topics were drawn from the day's paper and the last review : he ventured a jest upon Don Carlos, and a bo7i mot upon the Duke of Wel- lington ; took little or no notice of Fanny ; spoke affectionately to his daughter, and gaily to Miss Torrington ; and, in short, appeared to be as little deserving of all Rosahnd had said of him as it was well' possible for a gentleman to be. " Fair Rosalind has certainly suffered her imagination to conjure up a bugbear in this man," thought Charles. " It is impossible he can be the violent fanatic she describes." After wandering about the gardens for some time, Fanny proposed that they should go in to tea; but before they reached the house, Mr. Cartwright proposed to take his leave, saying that he had an engagement in Wrexhill, which was to prevent his lengthening his visit. The adieu had been spoken on all sides, and the vicar turned from them to depart, when Charles recollected the commission he had re- ceived from Sir Gilbert, and that he had pro- mised to report the result on the morrow. Hastily following him, therefore, he said, " I beg your pardon, Mr. Cartwright ; but, before you go, will you have the kindness to read this 46 THE VICAR OF note, and tell me if you know whether my mo- ther received such a one before she went to London ?" Mr. Cartwright took the note, read it atten- tively, and then returned it, saying, " No, Mr. Mowbray, I should certainly think not: not because I never saw or heard of it, but because I imagine that if she had, she would not have proceeded to London without Sir Gilbert. Was such a note as that sent, Mr. Mowbray ?" Charles had kept his eye very steadily fixed on the vicar, both while he read the note, and while he spoke of it. Not the slightest indica- tion, however, of his knowing anything about it was visible in his countenance, voice, or manner; and, again as he looked at him, young Mowbray felt ashamed of suspicions for which there seemed to be so little cause. " Svich a note as this was sent, Mr. Cart- wright," he frankly replied : " but I suspect that by some unlucky accident it never reached my mother's hands ; otherwise, as you well ob- serve, she would not, most assuredly, have set off to London on this business without commu- nicating with Sir Gilbert Harrington.'' " I conceive it must be so, indeed, Mr. Mow- bray ; and it is greatly to be lamented, for the ii WREXHILL. 47 receiving it would have saved poor Mrs. Mow- bray much anxiety and trouble." " She expressed herself to you as being an- noyed by Sir Gilbert's refusing to act ?" " Oh yes, repeatedly ; so much so, indeed, that nothing but the indispensable duty of my parish prevented my offering to accompany her to London myself. I wished her very much to send for you ; but nothing would induce her to interrupt your studies.' It is not in the nature of a frank-hearted young man to doubt statements thus simply uttered by one having the bearing and appear- ance of a gentleman; and Charles Mowbray reported accordingly at the dinner-table of Sir Gilbert, assuring him that the test had proved Mr. Cartwright's innocence on this point most satisfactorily. 48 THE VICAR OF CHAPTER IV. MR. STEPHEN CORBOLD. We must now follow Mrs. Mowbray and Helen to London, as some of the circumstances which occurred there proved of importance to them afterwards. The journey was a very me- lancholy one to Helen, and her feelings as un- like as possible to those which usually accom- pany a young lady of her age, appearance, and station, upon a visit to the metropolis. Mrs. Mowbray spoke very little, being greatly oc- cupied by the volume recommended to her notice, at parting, by Mr. Cartwright; and more than once Helen felt something like envy at the situation of the two servants, who, perched aloft behind the carriage, were enjoy- ing without restraint the rapid njovement, the WREXHILL. 49 fresh air, and the beautiful country through which they passed ; while she, like a drooping flower on which the sun has ceased to shine, hung her fair head, and languished for the kindly warmth she had lost. They reached Wimpole Street about eight o'clock in the evening, and found everything prepared for them with the most sedulous at- tention in their handsome and commodious apartments. Mrs. Mowbray was tired, and, being really in need of the refreshment, blessed the hand, or rather the thought, which had forestalled all her wants and wishes, and spread that dearest of travelling banquets, tea and coffee, ready to greet her as she entered the drawing-room. " This letter has been left for you, ma'am, by the gentleman who took the apartment," said the landlady, taking a packet from the chimney-piece ; " and he desired it might be given to you immediately." Mrs. Mowbray opened it ; but perceiving it enclosed another, the address of which she glanced her eye upon, she folded it up again, and besr^ed to be shown to her room while the tea was made. Her maid followed her, but was dismissed VOL. II. D 50 THE VICAR OF with orders to see if Miss Mowbray wanted anything. As soon as she was alone^ she pre- pared to examine the packet, the receipt of which certainly startled her, for it was in the handwriting of Mr. Cartwright, from whom she had parted but a few hours before. The envelope contained only these words : " Mr. Stephen Corbold presents his respect- ful compliments to Mrs. Mov/bray, and will do himself the honour of waiting upon her to- morrow morning at eleven o'clock.'^ " Gray's Inn, July 13th, 1833." Mrs. Mowbray ran her eyes very rapidly over these words, and then opened the en- closed letter. It was as follows : — " Do not let the unexpected sight of a letter from your minister alarm you, my dear and much-valued friend. I have nothing pa,inful to disclose ; and my sole object in writing is to make you feel that though you are distant from the sheltered spot wherein the Lord hath caused you to dwell, the shepherd's eye which hath been appointed to \vatch over you is not withdrawn. WREXHILL. 5 1 " I am no longer a young man, my dear Mrs. Mowbray ; and during the years through which I have passed, my profession, my duty, and my indination have ahke led me to exa- mine the souls of my fellow-creatures, and to read them, as it were, athwart the veil of their mortal bodies. Habit and application have given me, I believe, some skill in develo^^ing the inward character of those amongst whom I am thrown : nor can I doubt that the hand of God is in this, as in truth it is in all things if we do but diligently set ourselves to trace it; — I cannot, I say, but believe that this faculty which I feel so strong within me, of discern- ing in whom those spirits abide that the Lord hath chosen for his own, — I cannot but believe that this faculty is given me by his especial will and for his especial glory, I wish well, sincerely well, to the whole human race : I would never lose an opportunity of lifting my voice in warning to them, in the hope that per- adventure there may be one among the crowd who may turn and follow me. But, my friend, far different is the feeling with which my soul clings with steadfast care and love to those on whom I see the anointing finger of the Lord. It is such that I would lead, even as a pilot D 2 52 THE VICAR OF leadeth the vessel intrusted to his skill, into the peaceful waters, where glory, and honour, and joy unspeakable and without end, shall abide with them for ever ! " Repine not, oh ! my friend, if all your race are not of these. Rather rejoice wdth exceed- ing great joy that it hath pleased the Holy One to set his seal on two. To this effect, look round the world, my gentle friend, and see what myriads of roofs arise beneath which not one can be found to show forth the saving power of Christ. Mark them ! how they thread the giddy maze, and dance onward down the slippery path that leads to everlasting damna- tion ! Mark this, sweet spii'it ! and rejoice that you and your Fanny are snatched from the burning ! My soul revels in an ecstasy of rap- ture unspeakable, as I gaze upon you both, and know that is I, even I, whom the Lord hath chosen to lead you to his pastures. What are aU the victories and glories of the world to this ? Think you, my gentle friend, that if all the worldly state and station of Lambeth were offered me on one side, and the task of leading thy meek steps into the way of life called me to the other, that I should hesitate for one single instant which to choose ? WREXHILL. 53 " Oh no ! Trust me, I would meet the scorn and revihngs of all men — ay, and the bitterest persecutions that ever the saints of old were called upon to bear, rather than turn mine eyes from thee and the dear work of thy salva- tion, though princedoms, principalities, and powers might be gained thereby ! " Be strong then in faith, be strong in hope ; for thou art well loved of the Lord, and of him whom it hath been His will to place near thee as his minister on eartli ! " Be strong in faith ! Kneel down, sweet friend ! — even now, as thine eye reads these characters traced by the hand of one who would give his life to guard thy soul from harm, kneel down, and ask that the Holy Ghost may be with thee, — well assured that he who bids thee do so will at the same moment be kneel- ing, likewise, to invoke blessings on thy fair and virtuous head ! " At the moment when the heart is drawn heavenward, as mine is now, how hateful — I may say, how profane, seem those worldly ap- pellations and distinctions with which the silly vanity of man has sought to decorate our indi- vidual nothingness ! How much more befittin)= 5 '1^1 In Q i:. %a]AiNii ..\WrUMVER5-/A. :lOSANCI jAINI) >- < ^.HM ri>^i :^.. .'-^