Next day the Miss Wentworths made a solemn call at the Rectory, having
known an aunt of Mrs Morgan at some period of their history, and being
much disposed, besides, with natural curiosity, to ascertain all about
their nephew's circumstances. Their entrance interrupted a consultation
between the Rector and his wife. Mr Morgan was slightly heated, and had
evidently been talking about something that excited him; while she, poor
lady, looked just sufficiently sympathetic and indignant to withdraw
her mind from that first idea which usually suggested itself on the
entrance of visitors--which was, what could they possibly think of her
if they supposed the carpet, &c., to be her own choice? Mrs Morgan cast
her eye with a troubled look upon the big card which had been brought to
her--Miss Wentworth, Miss Leonora Wentworth, Miss Dora Wentworth.
"Sisters of his, I suppose, William," she said in an undertone; "now
_do_ be civil, dear." There was no time for anything more before the
three ladies sailed in. Miss Leonora took the initiative, as was
natural.
"You don't remember us, I daresay," she said, taking Mrs Morgan's
hand; "we used to know your aunt Sidney, when she lived at the
Hermitage. Don't you recollect the Miss Wentworths of Skelmersdale?
Charley Sidney spent part of his furlough with us last summer, and Ada
writes about you often. We could not be in Carlingford without coming
to see the relation of such a dear friend."
"I am so glad to see anybody who knows my aunt Sidney," said Mrs
Morgan, with modified enthusiasm. "Mr Morgan, Miss Wentworth. It was
such a dear little house that Hermitage. I spent some very happy days
there. Oh yes, I recollect Skelmersdale perfectly; but, to tell the
truth, there is one of the clergy in Carlingford called Wentworth, and
I thought it might be some relations of his coming to call."
"Just so," said Miss Wentworth, settling herself in the nearest
easy-chair.
"And so it is," cried Miss Dora; "we are his aunts, dear boy--we are
very fond of him. We came on purpose to see him. We are so glad to
hear that he is liked in Carlingford."
"Oh--yes," said the Rector's wife, and nobody else took any notice of
Miss Dora's little outburst. As for Mr Morgan, he addressed Miss
Leonora as if she had done something particularly naughty, and he had
a great mind to give her an imposition. "You have not been very long
in Carlingford, I suppose," said the Rector, as if that were a sin.
"Only since Saturday," said Miss Leonora. "We came to see Mr Frank
Wentworth, who is at St Roque's. I don't know what your bishop is
about, to permit all those flowers and candlesticks. For my part, I
never disguise my sentiments. I mean to tell my nephew plainly that
his way of conducting the service is far from being to my mind."
"Leonora, dear, perhaps Mr Morgan would speak to Frank about it,"
interposed Miss Dora, anxiously; "he was always a dear boy, and advice
was never lost upon him. From one that he respected so much as he must
respect the Rector--"
"I beg your pardon. I quite decline interfering with Mr Wentworth; he
is not at all under my jurisdiction. Indeed," said the Rector, with a
smile of anger, "I might be more truly said to be under his, for he is
good enough to help in my parish without consulting me; but that is
not to the purpose. I would not for the world attempt to interfere
with St Roque's."
"Dear, I am sure Mr Wentworth is very nice, and everything we have
seen of him in private we have liked very much," said Mrs Morgan, with
an anxious look at her husband. She was a good-natured woman, and the
handsome Curate had impressed her favourably, notwithstanding his
misdoings. "As for a little too much of the rubric, I think that is
not a bad fault in a young man. It gets softened down with a little
experience; and I do like proper solemnity in the services of the
Church."
"I don't call intoning proper solemnity," said Miss Leonora. "The
Church is a missionary institution, that is my idea. Unless you are
really bringing in the perishing and saving souls, what is the good?
and souls will never be saved by Easter decorations. I don't know what
my nephew may have done to offend you, Mr Morgan; but it is very sad
to us, who have very strong convictions on the subject, to see him
wasting his time so. I daresay there is plenty of heathenism in
Carlingford which might be attacked in the first place."
"I prefer not to discuss the subject," said the Rector. "So long as Mr
Wentworth, or any other clergyman, keeps to his own sphere of duty, I
should be the last in the world to interfere with him."
"You are offended with Frank," said Miss Leonora, fixing her iron-grey
eyes upon Mr Morgan. "So am I; but I should be glad if you would tell
me all about it. I have particular reasons for wishing to know. After
all, he is only a young man," she continued, with that instinct of
kindred which dislikes to hear censure from any lips but its own. "I
don't think there can be anything more than inadvertence in it. I
should be glad if you would tell me what you object to in him. I think
it is probable that he may remain a long time in Carlingford," said
Miss Leonora, with charming candour, "and it would be pleasant if we
could help to set him right. Your advice and experience might be of so
much use to him." She was not aware of the covert sarcasm of her
speech. She did not know that the Rector's actual experience, though
he was half as old again as her nephew, bore no comparison to that of
the Perpetual Curate. She spoke in good faith and good nature, not
moved in her own convictions of what must be done in respect to
Skelmersdale, but very willing, if that were possible, to do a good
turn to Frank.
"I am sure, dear, what we have seen of Mr Wentworth in private, we
have liked very much," said the Rector's sensible wife, with a
deprecating glance towards her husband. The Rector took no notice of
the glance; he grew slightly red in his serious middle-aged face, and
cleared his throat several times before he began to speak.
"The fact is, I have reason to be dissatisfied with Mr Wentworth, as
regards my own parish," said Mr Morgan: "personally I have nothing to
say against him--quite the reverse; probably, as you say, it arises
from inadvertence, as he is still a very young man; but--"
"What has he done?" said Miss Leonora, pricking up her ears.
Once more Mr Morgan cleared his throat, but this time it was to keep
down the rising anger of which he was unpleasantly sensible. "I don't
generally enter into such matters with people whom they don't concern,"
he said, with a touch of his natural asperity; "but as you are Mr
Wentworth's relation--. He has taken a step perfectly unjustifiable in
every respect; he has at the present moment a mission going on in my
parish, in entire independence, I will not say defiance, of me. My
dear, it is unnecessary to look at me so deprecatingly. I am indignant
at having such a liberty taken with me. I don't pretend not to be
indignant. Mr Wentworth is a very young man, and may not know any
better; but it is the most unwarrantable intrusion upon a clergyman's
rights. I beg your pardon, Miss Wentworth: you have nothing to do with
my grievances; but the fact is, my wife and I were discussing this very
unpleasant matter when you came in."
"A mission in your parish?" said Miss Leonora, her iron-grey eyes
lighting up with a sparkle which did not look like indignation; at
this point it was necessary that Miss Dora should throw herself into
the breach.
"Oh, Mr Morgan, I am sure my dear Frank does not mean it!" cried the
unlucky peacemaker; "he would not for the world do anything to wound
anybody's feelings--it must be a mistake."
"Mr Morgan would not have mentioned it if we had not just been talking
as you came in," said the Rector's wife, by way of smoothing down his
ruffled temper and giving him time to recover. "I feel _sure_ it is a
mistake, and that everything will come right as soon as they can talk
it over by themselves. The last Rector was not at all a working
clergyman--and perhaps Mr Wentworth felt it was his duty--and now I
daresay he forgets that it is not his own parish. It will all come
right after a time."
"But the mission is effective, I suppose, or you would not object to
it?" said Miss Leonora, who, though a very religious woman, was not a
peacemaker; and the Rector, whose temper was hasty, swallowed the bait.
He entered into his grievances more fully than his wife thought
consistent with his dignity. She sat with her eyes fixed upon the floor,
tracing the objectionable pattern on the carpet with her foot, but too
much vexed for the moment to think of those bouquets which were so
severe a cross to her on ordinary occasions. Perhaps she was thinking
secretly to herself how much better one knows a man after being married
to him three months than after being engaged to him ten years; but the
discovery that he was merely a man after all, with very ordinary
defects, did not lessen her loyalty. She sat with her eyes bent upon the
carpet, feeling a little hot and uncomfortable as her husband disclosed
his weakness, and watching her opportunities to rush in and say a
softening word now and then. The chances were, perhaps, on the whole,
that the wife grew _more_ loyal, if that were possible, as she perceived
the necessity of standing by him and backing him out. The Rector went
very fully into the subject, being drawn out by Miss Leonora's questions,
and betrayed an extent of information strangely opposed to the utter
ignorance which he had displayed at Mr Wodehouse's party. He knew the
hours of Mr Wentworth's services, and the number of people who attended,
and even about Tom Burrows's six children who had been baptised the day
before. Somehow Mr Morgan took this last particular as a special
offence; it was this which had roused him beyond his usual self-control.
Six little heathens brought into the Christian fold in his own parish
without the permission of the Rector! It was indeed enough to try any
clergyman's temper. Through the entire narrative Miss Dora broke in now
and then with a little wail expressive of her general dismay and grief,
and certainty that her dear Frank did not mean it. Mrs Morgan repeated
apart to Miss Wentworth with a troubled brow the fact that all they had
seen of Mr Wentworth in private they had liked very much; to which aunt
Cecilia answered, "Quite so," with her beautiful smile; while Miss
Leonora sat and listened, putting artful questions, and fixing the
heated Rector with that iron-grey eye, out of which the sparkle of
incipient light had not faded. Mr Morgan naturally said a great deal
more than he meant to say, and after it was said he was sorry; but he
did not show the latter sentiment except by silence and an uneasy
rustling about the room just before the Miss Wentworths rose to go--a
sign apparent to his wife, though to nobody else. He gave Miss Wentworth
his arm to the door with an embarrassed courtesy. "If you are going to
stay any time at Carlingford, I trust we shall see more of you," said Mr
Morgan: "I ought to beg your pardon for taking up so much time with my
affairs;" and the Rector was much taken aback when Miss Wentworth
answered, "Thank you, that is just what I was thinking." He went back to
his troubled wife in great perplexity. What was it that was just what
she was thinking?--that he would see more of them, or that he had spoken
too much of his own affairs?
"You think I have been angry and made an idiot of myself," said Mr
Morgan to his wife, who was standing looking from a safe distance
through the curtains at the three ladies, who were holding a consultation
with their servant out of the window of the solemn chariot provided by
the Blue Boar, as to where they were to go next.
"Nonsense, dear; but I wish you had not said quite so much about Mr
Wentworth," said the Rector's wife, seizing, with female art, on a cause
for her annoyance which would not wound her Welshman's _amour propre_,
"for I rather think he is dependent on his aunts. They have the living
of Skelmersdale, I know; and I remember now that their nephew was to
have had it. I hope this won't turn them against him, dear," said Mrs
Morgan, who did not care the least in the world about Skelmersdale,
looking anxiously in her husband's face.
This was the climax of the Rector's trouble. "Why did not you tell me
that before?" he said, with conjugal injustice, and went off to his
study with a disturbed mind, thinking that perhaps he had injured his
own chances of getting rid of the Perpetual Curate. If Mrs Morgan had
permitted herself to soliloquise after he was gone, the matter of her
thoughts might have been interesting; but as neither ladies nor
gentlemen in the nineteenth century are given to that useful medium of
disclosing their sentiments, the veil of privacy must remain over the
mind of the Rector's wife. She got her gardening gloves and scissors,
and went out immediately after, and had an animated discussion with the
gardener about the best means of clothing that bit of wall, over which
every railway train was visible which left or entered Carlingford. That
functionary was of opinion that when the lime-trees "growed a bit" all
would be right: but Mrs Morgan was reluctant to await the slow processes
of nature. She forgot her vexations about Mr Wentworth in consideration
of the still more palpable inconvenience of the passing train.