THE RECTOR OF SAINT DAVID'S.
It is not necessary to explain to our readers the precise locality of
the splendid Chapel of Ease known by the name of Saint David's. Suffice
it to say, that it is situate not a hundred miles from Russell or
Tavistock Square; and that the clergyman attached to it at the period of
which we are writing was the Rev. Reginald Tracy.
It was Sunday morning.
A crowd of well-dressed persons, of both sexes, poured into the chapel
of Saint David's. The street was lined with carriages; and when each in
its turn drew up at the door of the sacred edifice, the _élite_ of the
aristocracy might have been observed to alight and hasten to form part
of the immense congregation assembled to hear the most popular preacher
of the day.
The interior of the chapel was vast, and of a convenient oblong form. It
was lofty, and beautifully fitted up. On three sides were large and
roomy galleries, amphitheatrically arranged with pews. The magnificent
organ stood in the gallery over the entrance; and at the further end was
the communion-table. The pulpit, with its annexed reading-desk, stood a
little in front of the altar, and facing the organ. The pews both of the
galleries and the body of the church were provided with soft cushions;
for this was a proprietary chapel, and there was but a slender
accommodation for the poor. Indeed, this class occupied plain benches in
the aisles, and were compelled to enter by a small side-door so that
they might not mingle with the crowd of elegantly dressed ladies and
fashionable gentlemen that poured into the chapel through the grand
entrance in front.
A policeman maintained order at the side-door, which admitted the
humbler classes; but two beadles, wearing huge cocked hats and ample
blue cloaks bedizened with broad gold-lace, and holding gilt wands in
their hands, cleared the way for the wealthy, the great, and the proud,
who enjoyed the privilege of entrance by means of the front gates.
"This way, my lord. Pray step this way, my lady," said the polite
beadles, in their blandest tones. "The pew-opener is in attendance, my
lord. My lady, here is the hymn-book, which your ladyship commanded me
to procure for your ladyship. My lord, take care of the step. This door,
ladies, if you please. Gentlemen, this way, if you would be so
condescending. Yes, sir--certainly, sir--the pew-opener will find _you_
a seat, sir--immediately, sir. Ladies, this way is less crowded. You
will find the left aisle comparatively empty. My lord, straight forward,
if your lordship will be so good. Ladies, the pew-opener is in
attendance. This way, ladies and gentlemen!"
And at the side-door the policeman might be heard vociferating in
somewhat like the following manner:--
"Now, then, you young woman, where the deuce are you pushing to? Want to
get a good place, eh? What! with sich a rag of a shawl as that
there?--I'm afeard I can't admit you. Now, boy, stand back, or I'll show
you the reason why. I say, old woman, you ain't wanted here; we doesn't
take in vimen with red cloaks. You'd better go to the dissenting chapel
round the corner, you had: that's good enow for you. Holloa! what's this
mean? a sweep in his Sunday toggery. Come, come; that's rayther too
strong, chummy. You toddle off, now. Here, young woman, you may come in;
you may--'cos you're very pretty: that way, my dear. Holloa! here comes
a feller without a nose. No--no--that won't do at no price; my orders is
partickler; no von comes here vithout a nose. Vy, you'd frighten all the
great ladies out o' their vits. They already complains of the riff-raff
that comes to this here chapel; so we must try and keep it
_se_-lect--just like Gibbs's westry. Ha! ha! now then, who's that
blaigaird a-talking so loud there? It's on'y me as can talk here at this
door, 'cos I'm official--I am. This vay, young woman: push the door, my
dear. Well, if you ain't married, I'm sure you ought to be. Now, then,
who's that a guffawing like a rhinoceros? I'll clap a stopper on your
mug, I will. Come, come; you go back, old chap: no workus-livery here;
this is the wrong shop for the workus people; this is--I can tell yer.
Vell, you're a genteel couple, I don't think--coming to a
pro-pri-_ai_-tory chapel vithout no gloves, and fists as black as
tinkers. Stand back there, boys, and let that young gal vith the yaller
ribands come up: she's decent, she is. Yes, my dear,--you may go in, my
dear. Now, then, stand back--no more comes in this mornin': the orgin's
begun."
With these words the policeman thrust the poor people violently down the
steps, entered the chapel, and closed the door in their faces.
The interior was crowded throughout; and it was very evident that
curiosity and fashion, more than devotion, had congregated in that
chapel the rank, wealth, and beauty that filled the pews below and
above.
The solemn swell of the organ pealed through the sacred edifice; and
then arose the morning hymn, sung by a select corps of choristers and
by twelve youths belonging to the school of a celebrated professor of
Music for the Millions.
A venerable clergyman, with hair as white as his own surplice, occupied
the reading-desk; and in a pew close by the pulpit, was the cynosure
that attracted all eyes--the Rev. Reginald Tracy.
The tall commanding form of this clergyman would have rendered him
conspicuous amongst the congregation, had no other circumstance tended
to endow him with popularity. His countenance was eminently handsome:
his high and open forehead was set off, but not shaded, by dark brown
hair which curled naturally; his hazel eyes beamed with the fire of a
brilliant intellect; his Roman nose, small mouth, and well-turned chin
formed a profile at once pleasing and commanding; and his large
well-curled whiskers, meeting beneath his chin, confirmed the manly
beauty of that proud and imposing countenance.
There was a profound, but totally unassuming, sense of the solemnity of
the scene and of the sanctity of his profession in his manner and
deportment: his voice did not join in the hymn, but his mind evidently
followed the words, as he from time to time glanced at the book which he
held in his hand.
Doubtless he was well aware--but nothing in his demeanour seemed to
indicate this consciousness--that he was the centre of all attraction:
though not servilely meek nor hypocritically austere, he was still
surrounded by a halo of religious fervour which commanded the most
profound respect.
And towards him were turned hundreds of bright eyes; and the glances of
fair maids dwelt upon his countenance rather than on their books.
The hymn ceased, and the service proceeded.
At length the anthem succeeding the communion-service, filled the chapel
with its solemn echoes, accompanied by the pealing of the magnificent
organ. Then a simultaneous sensation pervaded the entire congregation,
and all eyes were directed towards the Rev. Reginald Tracy, who was now
ascending the steps to the pulpit.
The anthem was ended; the congregation resumed their seats; and the
preacher commenced.
It is not, however, our intention to treat our readers to a sermon:
suffice it to say, that the eloquence and matter of the discourse which
the Rev. Reginald Tracy delivered upon this occasion, were well
calculated to sustain his high reputation.
But of the attentive audience, no individual seemed to be more deeply
impressed with his sermon than Lady Cecilia Harborough, who sate in a
pew near the pulpit--next indeed to the one which the clergyman himself
had occupied during the former part of the service.
She was alone; for on the previous day she had hired that pew for her
own especial use.
Whenever the eyes of the preacher were turned in the direction where she
sate, she appeared to be wiping away tears from her cheeks; for the
sermon was on a solemn and pathetic subject.
More than once she fancied that _he_ observed her; and her heart beat
triumphantly in her bosom.
When the sermon was concluded she remained in her pew, and allowed the
rest of the congregation to leave the chapel ere she moved from her
seat. At length the sacred edifice was deserted, save by herself and two
or three officials connected with the establishment.
In a few minutes the pew-opener--an elderly matron-like person--accosted
her, and said, "If you please, ma'am, the doors will be closed almost
directly."
"Could you--could you oblige me with a glass of water?" faltered Lady
Cecilia: "I feel as if I were about to faint."
"Oh! certainly, ma'am," answered the pew-opener; and she hurried to the
vestry.
Presently she returned, accompanied by the Rev. Reginald Tracy himself.
"Is the lady very unwell?" inquired the clergyman of the pew-opener, as
they advanced together towards Lady Cecilia's seat.
"She seems very languid--quite overcome, sir," was the answer. "But this
is the pew."
The clergyman stepped forward, and instantly recognised the fair
indisposed.
"Lady Harborough!" he exclaimed. "Is your ladyship unwell?"
And taking the tumbler of water from the pew-opener, he handed it to the
baronet's wife.
"It is nothing--the heat, I suppose," murmured Lady Cecilia; and she
drank a portion of the water. "Thank you, Mr. Tracy, for your attention:
I feel better--much better now."
"Will your ladyship step into the vestry and sit down for a few
minutes?" inquired the clergyman, really concerned at the presumed
indisposition of the lady.
"If it would not be indiscreet, I should esteem it a favour," answered
Cecilia, still speaking in a tremulous and faltering tone.
Reginald Tracy instantly proffered his arm to the lady, and conducted
her to the vestry, where the venerable clergyman who had read the
service was calmly discussing a glass of sherry.
"I am ashamed--perfectly ashamed to give you all this trouble, Mr.
Tracy," said Cecilia, as she accepted the chair which was offered her;
"but the heat of the chapel--and, to tell the truth, the emotions which
your beautiful discourse aroused within me--quite overcame me."
"The chapel was, indeed, very much crowded," answered Reginald Tracy,
touched by the homage rendered to his talent in the second cause which
Lady Cecilia alleged for her indisposition.
"Nevertheless, this little incident will not in future prevent me from
becoming one of the most regular of your congregation," observed
Cecilia, with a smile.
Mr. Tracy bowed, and smiled also.
Both had brilliant teeth, and it was impossible for either to fail to
notice this beautiful feature in each other.
"I feel quite recovered now," said Cecilia, after a short pause, "and
will return home. I offer you my best thanks for this kind attention on
your part."
"Do not mention it, Lady Harborough. But I cannot permit you to return
alone, after this indisposition: allow me to conduct you as far as your
own door?"
"I could not think of taking you out of your way--"
"It happens that I have a call to make in Tavistock Square, and am
actually going that way," interrupted Reginald Tracy.
Lady Cecilia, like a well-bred person as she was, offered no farther
objection, but accepted the clergyman's escort to her own abode.
During the short walk she rendered herself as agreeable as possible;
though purposely conversing upon topics suitable to the sabbath, and to
the profession of her companion. She also introduced one or two
delicate, and apparently unsophisticated, allusions to the eloquence
which had produced so deep an impression upon a crowded congregation,
and the profound attention with which the sermon was received. Then she
artfully, but with admirably assumed sincerity, questioned Mr. Tracy
upon two or three passages in that discourse, and suffered him to
perceive that not one word of it had been lost upon her.
Mr. Reginald Tracy was mortal like any other human being, and was not
exempt from some of the weaknesses of that mortality. It was impossible
for him not to experience a partial sentiment of pride and satisfaction
at the impression which his eloquence had evidently made upon a young
and beautiful woman; and that feeling became in the least degree more
tender by the fact that this young and beautiful woman was leaning upon
his arm.
Then how could he feel otherwise than flattered when, with her witching
eyes upturned towards his countenance, she questioned him--so meekly and
so sincerely, as he thought--upon the very passages of his sermon which
he himself considered to be the best, and which he had studied to render
the most effective? He _was_ flattered--he smiled, and endeavoured to
render himself agreeable to so charming a woman.
At length they reached the door of Lady Harborough's abode. The syren
invited him to walk in, as a matter of course; but Mr. Tracy was
compelled to forego that pleasure. He was really engaged elsewhere; or
there is no saying but that he might have stepped in--only for a few
minutes.
Lady Cecilia extended her hand to him at parting, and held his for just
two or three moments, while she renewed her thanks for his attention.
The action was perfectly natural; and yet the gentle contact of that
delicate hand produced upon Reginald Tracy a sensation which he had
never before experienced. It seemed to impart a glow of warmth and
pleasure to his entire frame.
At length they separated; and as the Rector of Saint David's pursued his
walk, he found his mind from time to time wandering away from more
serious reflections, and reverting to the half hour which he had passed
so agreeably in the society of Lady Harborough.