Harry had gone. Clara felt very sad; her eye was constantly at the
telescope in the drawing-room, looking out for the steamer which was
conveying him to Alexandria. She at length caught sight of a long white
line and a puff of grey smoke above it, which she believed must belong
to the ship. She was still watching it as it was growing less and less
distinct, when her aunt, entering the room, said, "I am afraid that your
father is very ill. I went into his study just now; when I spoke to
him, he was unable to answer me."
Clara flew to the study, and found her father seated in his arm-chair.
There was a pained expression in his eyes, and he was speechless. He
had been seized with a paralytic stroke. The servant was immediately
despatched to bring the doctor, who was found not far off, and quickly
came. He pronounced the captain to be in considerable danger. Clara,
ever dutiful and affectionate, was constant in her attendance on her
father. Even Miss Pemberton's manner softened, and she did her best to
comfort her niece. In the course of two or three days, Captain Maynard
had somewhat recovered, and was able to speak without much difficulty.
General Caulfield, who had heard of his illness, came over to see him.
The brave sailor believed himself to be dying.
"It is a knock at my door to which I am bound to attend, General," he
said.
"I have no fear for myself, for I trust in One `mighty to save;' but I
am anxious about my gentle Clara, so ill able to battle with the
troubles of life. I wish that we had not let Harry go; I could have
left her with confidence in his care. Would that he could be recalled!"
"His ship is across the bay by this time. We acted for the best, and
must trust to Him who ever cares for the orphan and widow. While I
live, I will be a father to your child, and assist her aunt in watching
over her," answered the general; "but cheer up, my friend, I do not
speak to one ignorant of the truth, and therefore I can say that God may
still preserve your life for her sake, though you will undoubtedly be
the gainer by going hence, as all are who die in the Lord. We can pray
to Him to protect her." And the gallant old soldier knelt down by the
side of his friend, as by that of a beloved brother, and together they
lifted up their voices to Him in whom they trusted. Though Captain
Maynard could but faintly repeat the words uttered by the general, his
heart spoke with the fervency of a true Christian who expects soon to be
in the presence of his Saviour. He pressed the general's hand. "And
whatever happens, my dear friend, I feel confident that you will fulfil
your promise," he said.
Before the general left the house, he spoke for some time to Miss
Pemberton, who was fully convinced that her brother-in-law had not many
hours to live. The captain, however, the next day had greatly
recovered; and while Miss Pemberton was seated in the drawing-room,
Clara being with her father, Mr and Mrs Lerew were announced. Mrs
Lerew advancing, took Miss Pemberton's hand, and sank into a seat, her
husband following with the most obsequious of bows and blandest of
smiles.
"My dear lady, I rejoice to find you within," he said, "as I am anxious
to have some earnest conversation with you, while perhaps, if I may
venture to make the request, your niece will show the garden to Mrs
Lerew."
"Clara is with her father, who is still, I regret to say, very ill,"
answered Miss Pemberton; "but I will summon her, that she may have the
pleasure of seeing Mrs Lerew."
"Not for the world," answered the vicar: "the present opportunity is
propitious. I was aware of Captain Maynard's serious illness; indeed, I
am most desirous to speak to him on the subject of his soul's welfare.
From what his medical attendant tells me, I fear that his days are
numbered; and you will pardon me when I say it, I grieve to hear that he
has been sadly neglectful of his religious duties."
"I hope you are mistaken," answered Miss Pemberton, somewhat astonished
at the remark; "though I have not resided long with him, I have always
understood that he was specially attentive to them."
"Not to some of the most important," said Mr Lerew: "he has not once
been to the celebration of the Holy Eucharist since I became vicar of
the parish, nor has he attended matin-song or even-song, which I have
performed daily; and I regret to observe that neither you nor your niece
have been present."
"My brother-in-law has not been in the habit of attending any but Sunday
services, nor have I, I confess," said Miss Pemberton; "but I shall be
very happy, if he gets better, to drive over with my niece, should you
think it right."
"Right!" exclaimed Mr Lerew in a tone of amazement; "I consider it a
great sin to neglect such means of grace, and by neglecting them you
encourage others to do so likewise; whereas if people of position set a
good example, it will be followed by their inferiors. But, my dear
lady, I fear that I have said what may sound harsh in your ears. One of
my great objects to-day is to see your brother-in-law alone, and I must
ask you to enable me to do so while Mrs Lerew is paying her respects to
your niece."
Miss Pemberton, seeing no objection to this, undertook to send Clara
down, and to beg Captain Maynard to receive the vicar. She went
upstairs for this purpose. Of course the sick man could not decline the
vicar's visit, and Clara having very unwillingly left her father, Mr
Lerew was ushered into his room. The new vicar spoke softly and gently,
and expressed his sorrow to hear of the captain's serious illness. He
then went on to speak of the importance of being prepared for death.
"I would urge you, therefore, my dear sir, to confess your sins to me,
that I may absolve you from them, as I have authority from my office."
"Yes, sir, I have many sins to confess, and I have already with hearty
repentance done so to my God," answered the captain, sitting up in bed.
"I am very sure, too, that they are all washed away in the blood of
Jesus Christ."
The vicar gave a suppressed hem. He at once saw that he must drop the
point of confession. "Then, my dear sir," he added, "I should have no
hesitation in administering to you the Holy Eucharist, which, knowing
your dangerous state, I reserved for you on Sunday last, and have now
brought in my pocket."
"I do not exactly understand you, sir," answered the captain, wondering
what his visitor could mean.
"You would surely wish to enjoy the benefit of that Holy Sacrament,"
said the vicar, "and I have brought the consecrated elements with me,
the wafer and the wine mingled with water, which latter it is lawful in
the Anglican Church to administer."
"I understand you now, and am much obliged to you for your kind
intentions," said the captain, "but the truth is, I should prefer taking
the sacrament with my old friends, Mr Lennard and General Caulfield,
with my daughter, and sister-in-law, and the members of my household.
We have always an ample supply of bread and wine for the purpose."
"Of my predecessor I say nothing, and hope that he will be brought ere
long to the knowledge and practice of the truth," exclaimed Mr Lerew.
"General Caulfield--pardon me for saying it--is, I understand, a
schismatic with whom we are bound to hold no communion. He has for
several Sundays attended a dissenting conventicle, and actually takes
upon himself to preach and to attempt to teach his ignorant
fellow-creatures; for ignorant and benighted those must be who listen to
him. It will be at the peril of your soul, I am bound to tell you,
Captain Maynard, should you invite him to be present at the awful
ceremony you propose to hold."
"I will be responsible for the risk I may run," answered Captain
Maynard, the spirit of the old sailor rising within him. "I cannot
allow my dearest friend, in whose truly religious character I have
unbounded confidence, to be so spoken of without protest. In my state,
especially, I would quarrel with no man. You made a mistake, Mr Lerew,
in thus speaking of that excellent man."
"I deeply regret it," said the vicar. "I must not longer intrude on
you, but I am bound to tell you, Captain Maynard, that I consider your
soul in imminent danger, and I earnestly pray that another day, ere it
be too late, a benign influence may induce you more willingly to receive
my ministrations. Farewell." And Mr Lerew, rising with a frowning
brow, walked to the door, while the captain, sinking back on his pillow,
rang his bell. Soon after Mr Lerew had returned to the drawing-room,
the servant entered to say that the captain wished to see Miss Clara,
and she, without even stopping to say good-bye to her guests, hurried
upstairs. The vicar's manner was calm as usual. Miss Pemberton had
scarcely time to ask whether he had had a satisfactory interview with
her brother-in-law, when Lieutenant and Mrs Sims entered the room.
Miss Pemberton was compelled to shake hands with them, as the lieutenant
advanced in his usual hearty fashion, but she showed that their arrival
caused her no great satisfaction. Mr Lerew and his wife received them
in a stiff manner, and the former held out two fingers, which Sims
nearly dislocated as he grasped them in his rough palm. The lieutenant,
having enquired after Captain Maynard, and being informed by Miss
Pemberton that he was as well as she could hope, found himself compelled
to relapse into silence, as Mr Lerew, giving a hint to his wife to
attend to Mrs Sims, requested a few moments conversation with Miss
Pemberton in the bay window. Leading the lady to it, he spoke in so low
a voice, that even Mrs Sims, much as she might have wished to do so,
could not catch a word--while the honest lieutenant, who did not trouble
himself about the matter, endeavoured to make amends for the somewhat
unintelligible replies which his wife gave to Mrs Lerew.
The first portion of the vicar's conversation had reference to Clara; he
then continued in the same suppressed tone, "The General, also, is not a
man on whose religious opinions you should place reliance, my dear
madam, and I would especially urge you to prevent him, by every means in
your power, from coming here. He can only lead your poor brother-in-law
from the right path, and may induce him to refrain from taking advantage
of the sacred offices I am so anxious to render."
In a few minutes Mr Lerew and Miss Pemberton returned to their seats,
the former observing in a voice which he intended should be heard,
"General Caulfield may be a very worthy soldier, but I unhesitatingly
say, and I wish it to be known, that I consider any person, whatever his
rank, is to be greatly blamed who enters a dissenting chapel, and
without authority pretends to preach to the ignorant populace."
"But, sir, I can say I once listened to as good a sermon preached by the
general as I ever heard from parson or bishop, begging your pardon,"
exclaimed Mr Sims, the colour mounting to his honest cheeks as he
spoke; "he preaches simply from the Bible, and just says what the Bible
says; and that, I hold, is the best test of a good sermon."
"The Bible, Mr Sims, is a very dangerous book, if read by the laity,
without the proper interpretation of those deputed by Holy Church to
explain its meaning," emphatically replied Mr Lerew.
The lieutenant gave an involuntary whew. "Then I suppose that you mean
the Bible should not be read by us laity," he exclaimed.
"Certainly, not without the written or verbal explanation of the priests
of our Church," answered Mr Lerew.
"And that is your opinion?" asked the lieutenant, resolving then and
there that he would never allow the vicar an opportunity of explaining
the Bible to him or any of his family according to his interpretation;
"and you wish this to be known in the parish, Mr Lerew?"
"Certainly, I do not desire to conceal my opinions--I speak with
authority," answered the vicar.
"But, my dear, the people may misunderstand you," observed Mrs Lerew,
who reflected that her husband had made an acknowledgment which some of
his parishioners might take up, and perhaps cause him annoyance; but the
vicar was not a man to be withheld from expressing his opinion by any
such fears. He was aware that he would be supported by Sir Reginald and
Lady Bygrave, and he secretly held such persons as Lieutenant Sims and
the rest of his parishioners of inferior rank in the utmost contempt.
"I will take good care that your opinion is known, though I do not agree
with it, I can tell you, Mr Lerew," exclaimed the lieutenant, rising.
"I am sorry, Miss Pemberton, that I cannot see my excellent friend this
morning. I served under him six years or more--there is no man I more
esteem, and I know what his opinion is of General Caulfield. Give him
my love and respects, and say I hope to have a talk with him another day
when he is better. Come, my dear, it is time we should be jogging
home."
This was said to his wife; and the two rising, took their departure,
receiving the most freezing of looks from the vicar and the two ladies.
At that instant a servant girl entered, to beg that Miss Pemberton would
come up immediately into her master's room.
"We didn't like to interrupt you, marm, but I am afraid the captain's in
a bad way," she said, "I will attend you," exclaimed Mr Lerew: "a
priest is ever in his proper place beside the bed of the dying."
Without waiting for permission, he followed Miss Pemberton into Captain
Maynard's room. Clara was at her father's bedside, holding his hand.
She had found him, when she returned from the drawing-room after his
interview with the vicar, speechless. He had endeavoured to say
something to her, but his tongue refused its office; his mind was,
however, it was evident, unimpaired. He looked up with a pained
expression, and tried to show that he wished to write; but when a slate
was brought him, his fingers were unable to hold the pencil Clara had
immediately sent off for the doctor, and was now endeavouring, by
chafing her father's hands, to restore their power.
On seeing the vicar in the doorway a peculiar expression passed over
Captain Maynard's countenance, and he made another desperate effort to
utter a few words in his daughter's ear, but in vain--no articulate
sounds proceeded from his lips.
"I feel the deepest sympathy and compassion for you, my dear young
lady," said the vicar in a gentle tone. "We will pray for the soul of
the departing--join me, I beseech you--induce your niece to kneel with
us," he whispered to Miss Pemberton, who nodded, and placing a chair by
the bedside, almost compelled Clara to kneel on it, while she continued
the act of filial affection in which she had been engaged. The vicar
then taking from his pocket a book, read a service, of which poor Clara,
agitated as she was, did not comprehend a word. Captain Maynard all the
time was looking into her fair face with the same pained expression in
his eyes which they had assumed on the entrance of the vicar. Doctor
Brown, a worthy and excellent man, arrived just as the vicar had
concluded; and exercising his authority, requested him and Miss
Pemberton to leave the room, observing that perfect quiet was necessary
for his patient.
"You may stay," he whispered to Miss Maynard, as he felt the captain's
pulse. "The captain has had another attack--very slight, I assure you--
he'll rally from it, I hope, but we must allow nothing to agitate him.
There, there, he understands what we say. Don't be cast down, Captain;
God will take care of her, and she has many true friends. It is about
you, my dear, he is thinking--I know it by the way his eyes turn towards
you."
Clara could no longer restrain her tears, though she tried to conceal
them from her father. The doctor's predictions were in part verified:
Captain Maynard again rallied sufficiently to make signs for everything
he wanted, and showed that his intellect was perfectly clear. With the
doctor's permission he received several visits from General Caulfield,
though no one else was allowed to see him. Mr Lerew called frequently.
On each occasion he had an interview with Miss Pemberton, and twice he
saw Clara, when she was not in attendance on her father. He did his
best, as he well knew how, to ingratiate himself with both ladies. He
was making way with Miss Pemberton, and hoped that he was gradually
winning over Clara. He took good care in her presence to say nothing
harsh of General Caulfield, though what he did say was calculated to
undermine him in her opinion, but he so cautiously expressed himself
that she had no suspicion of the object of his remarks. He managed also
never to call when the general was likely to be at the house, as he
especially wished to avoid meeting him in the presence of Clara or her
aunt. The vicar on three occasions ventured to speak much more openly
to Miss Pemberton than he did to Clara.
"What a blessed thing it is, my dear lady, that our Holy Church
possesses divinely appointed priests who can unerringly guide and direct
their flock; who can rightly administer all the sacraments and interpret
the Scriptures! and how sad it is that any should obstinately refuse to
take full advantage of all these spiritual blessings!" he remarked.
"You and your sweet niece will, I trust, not be among those who thus
risk the loss of their souls."
"I hope not," answered Miss Pemberton, becoming somewhat alarmed. "I am
sure that I wish to do everything which religion requires."
"There is one great omission of which you have been guilty," continued
Mr Lerew. "I wish to speak with all love and gentleness. You have
never yet come to confession."
"Is that necessary?" asked Miss Pemberton, feeling more than ever
uneasy, "I did not know that it was required by the Church of England."
"You have read your Prayer-Book to little purpose, if you think so,"
said Mr Lerew, with more sternness than he had hitherto shown. "Only
think of the unspeakable comfort obtained through priestly absolution,
which will be thus afforded you. You will then know that your sins are
put away. You will feel so holy, and clean, and pure. Let me, with all
loving earnestness, urge you and your sweet niece to come without delay
to that holy ordinance, too long ignored and neglected in our Church;
and let me assure you that I believe every true daughter of that Church,
were she aware of the blessed advantages to be gained, would avail
herself of the opportunities now being offered throughout the kingdom."
"Your remarks take me, I own, by surprise," answered Miss Pemberton.
"None of my acquaintance, that I am aware of, have ever been in the
habit of confessing."
"`Wide is the gate and broad is the way which leadeth to destruction;
many there be that go in thereat.' Think of that text, Miss Pemberton;
join the privileged few, and I shall be most thankful to receive you as
a penitent," answered Mr Lerew. "Endeavour, also, by all means to
induce your niece to follow your pious example. My dear friends, Sir
Reginald and Lady Bygrave, and many other persons of distinction, come
regularly to confession; and I trust that by degrees the whole of my
flock will take advantage of the opportunity, which I shall have the
happiness of offering them, of being absolved from sin."
Miss Pemberton did not exactly say that she would go to confession, as
she felt rather doubtful whether Clara would accompany her, but she
promised that she would consider the matter; and the vicar on leaving
felt satisfied with the way he had made. As yet, however, he had not
got so far as to set up a confessional box in his church. He intended,
in the first instance, to employ the vestry for that purpose. He had
his doubts whether Mr Lennard might not withdraw the support he was now
affording him; still, he had made considerable progress. His first step
was to select a dozen of the schoolboys of the parish to form a choir,
and to clothe them in surplices; the instruments which had hitherto led
the parishioners in their singing being banished, an organ, presented by
Lady Bygrave, was put up, and an organist with high ritualistic
proclivities appointed. The hymn-books with the good old tunes which
all the parish knew by heart were discarded, and Hymns Ancient and
Modern were introduced. The communion-table was next raised and adorned
with a richly embroidered cover, and on the following Sunday four
magnificent branch candlesticks appeared upon it. Mr Lennard had
hitherto not made any remarks on the alterations going forward; but when
he saw the candlesticks, he enquired of Mr Lerew, who was calling on
him, what funds he possessed for the purchase of such articles, and what
was their object, as he feared that they would not be appreciated by the
parishioners at large.
"I have ample funds for all such purposes; and ignorant as the people
are at present, we will so educate them that by degrees they will see
the value and significance of the improvements we are introducing,"
answered Mr Lerew; "I contemplate having a reredos erected, which will
add greatly to the beauty of the church; as it will be expensive, I own,
I trust that you and other friends will contribute from your means
towards the important work. I wish to ornament those blank spaces along
the aisle with appropriate pictures. I should prefer having them
painted on the walls, of medallion shape; but as it may be difficult to
get an artist down here, we must be content to have them in moveable
frames. I purpose also having a large picture of the Crucifixion, or
perhaps one of the Holy Virgin, put up over the altar, instead of the
Ten Commandments, which greatly offend my eye; while I confess that I
cannot consider the altar complete without the symbol of our faith
placed on it. I should have preferred a crucifix of full size, and I
think that the cross might be so arranged that the figure can at any
time be added; but I fear that at present some of the parishioners in
their ignorance might raise objections which would cause us some
trouble."
"I should think, indeed, that they would object!" exclaimed Mr Lennard.
"Are you not going on too fast? I do not complain that your
improvements cast some reflection on me; as being a mere _locum tenens_,
I could not have made the alterations you propose, even had I wished to
do so; but others might find very great fault with you."
"You will come over fully to agree with me, as my kind friends Sir
Reginald and Lady Bygrave have done," said the vicar, and with a gentle
smile he bid his host good-bye.
Scarcely had Mr Lerew gone than a note was brought to Mr Lennard, from
Lady Bygrave, requesting him, with his son and daughter, to spend a few
days at Swanston Hall. Lady Bygrave was a very charming person, and
pleasant people were generally to be met with at the Hall. He gladly
accepted the invitation. Alfred was delighted; Mary would rather have
gone back to stay with Clara. Mr Lennard was somewhat surprised to
find that the abbe and Father Lascelles were still there. "The friends
to whom they were going were unable to receive them, and Sir Reginald
requested them to stay on as long as they found it convenient," remarked
Lady Bygrave. Mr Lennard was disappointed at finding no one else at
the house, with the exception of a young lady rather older than Mary, of
grave and sedate manners. As she was dressed in black, Mr Lennard
concluded that she was in mourning for a parent or some other near
relative, which accounted for the gravity of one so young. She,
however, smiled very sweetly when Mary was introduced to her, and said
in a gentle voice, "I know that we shall become good friends, so pray
let us begin at once, and talk to each other without reserve."
Mr Lennard, who had often wished that Mary could enjoy the
companionship of a girl of her own age, was glad to find so apparently
amiable a young lady in the house. The abbe, on entering the room,
expressed his pleasure at seeing Mr Lennard, and certainly did his best
to make amends for the want of other society. Father Lascelles,
observing that Alfred did not know what to do with himself, proposed
taking a turn round the grounds. "I am not much of a sportsman," he
said as they walked on, "but I am fond of fishing, as I dare say you
are, and we will fish together to-morrow, if you like." He had
discovered that angling--an art in which he was an adept in more ways
than one--was the only amusement which suited Alfred's tastes.
The few days spent at the Hall went rapidly by. At first the abbe
carefully avoided any but secular subjects, and being a remarkably
well-informed man, he made himself very agreeable. Even when Sir
Reginald or Lady Bygrave seemed inclined to speak on religion, he
quickly turned the conversation, but by degrees he, with apparent
unwillingness, entered into matters of faith. Mr Lennard, who had
never given any attention to the Papal system, was surprised to find how
little, according to the abbe's showing, the Church of England differed
from that of Rome in all matters of importance.
"Ah," remarked the abbe, with a smile, "your Church is like a wandering
child--though you have gone away from the parent, you retain all your
main features and doctrines, and have but to own obedience to the chief
head, and you would again be one with us. What a happy consummation!
Would that it were brought about! Why should those of the same kindred
be divided?"
"It is sad that it should be so," remarked Lady Bygrave, "perhaps, if
His Holiness, the Pope, were not so exigeant in his demands, the
glorious union might soon be accomplished."
"It is there that you are in error, my dear lady," remarked the abbe,
blandly; "His Holiness is too loving a parent to be exigeant without
good reason. Think of the parable of the Prodigal Son--what a warm
welcome! what rich treasures the father had for him, who was willing to
return! such as all will experience who, having eaten of the husks of
Protestantism, fly back to the bosom of the mother-Church."
Mr Lennard above all things hated an argument, and would always rather
side with a companion than oppose him; still he was not won by the
sophisms of the abbe; but he did not, unhappily, reflect on the effect
they might produce on Alfred and Mary. He had studied the Thirty-nine
Articles when he had taken his ordination vows, and he saw that the
opinions expressed by Lady Bygrave, and occasionally by Sir Reginald,
who was even more open than his wife, could not be reconciled to them.
The abbe never uttered a word which showed that he considered there were
any material differences in the two creeds, with the exception of the
single one of want of obedience to the heads of the Church.
"You have simplified your services; you have eliminated several
doctrines which we consider of importance; but such doctrines are, I
rejoice to see, in the course of being rapidly restored to their proper
position, as are many of the practices and observances of our Holy
Church," said the abbe, "and all you have now to say is, I will return,
I will obey, and the union is complete."
"You make the matter certainly very easy," said Mr Lennard; "but having
been for forty years of my life accustomed to consider that there is a
much wider gap between our Churches than that you have so quickly passed
over, you must not be surprised if I hesitate to take the leap; but I
will consider the subject."
"Far be it from me to advise you to do what your conscience might
disapprove," observed the abbe.
Father Lascelles found that he could be more open with Alfred. His
chief aim was to impress upon the young man's mind that there was but
one true Church, and that of Rome being the most ancient and most
powerful, and holding out unspeakably greater advantages to its
followers, must be that true one. Still, Alfred was neither very
impressive not communicative; the Jesuit priest could draw no positive
conclusion as to the effect his remarks had produced, though he felt
sure that, could he obtain time to play the fish he had hooked, he
should land him safe at last.
Mary's friend, Emmeline Tracy, was unexpectedly called away from the
Hall. Even to Mary she did not say where she was going, as she bid her
good-bye, but she hoped, she said, ere long to see her again. Mr
Lennard observed that his daughter looked more thoughtful and in less
good spirits than usual; it reminded him of his often expressed
determination of sending her to a finishing school, that she might have
the benefit of young companions, and form pleasant friendships. He
mentioned his idea to Lady Bygrave. "By all means, Mr Lennard; it is
what I should strongly recommend," answered her ladyship. "It is
curious that I was thinking of the same thing. There is a school at
Cheltenham exactly of the character you would wish for your daughter.
Mrs Barnett, the mistress, is a lady of high attainments and amiable
disposition, and she receives only girls of the first families; so that
Mary would be certain of forming desirable acquaintances. I shall have
great pleasure in writing to Mrs Barnett, saying who you are, and
requesting her to receive your daughter directly she has a vacancy."
Mr Lennard returned home; and a few days afterwards Lady Bygrave sent
him a letter from Mrs Barnett, who said, that in consequence of the
very satisfactory account her ladyship had written of Mr Lennard and
his daughter, she should be happy to receive the young lady as an inmate
immediately, to fill up the only vacancy in her establishment, and which
she regretted that she could not keep open beyond a week or so.
"Let me earnestly advise you to send Mary at once," added her ladyship.
"It would be a grievous pity to lose so favourable an opportunity of
placing her in a satisfactory school; for good schools are, I know, rare
enough."
Mr Leonard accordingly made up his mind to take his daughter to
Cheltenham. Mary had only time to drive over and pay a short visit to
Clara.
"I hope you will be happy," said Clara. "As I never was at school, I
don't know what sort of life you will have to lead, but I should think
with the companionship of a number of nice girls it must be very
cheerful. You can never for a moment feel out of spirits for want of
society, as I do too often here, now that I am unable to converse with
my poor father, and you know that Aunt Sarah is not the most
entertaining of persons."
Mary went away in good spirits, promising to write to Clara, and tell
her all about the school. Mr Lennard and his daughter arrived safely
at Cheltenham, and reached Mrs Barnett's handsome mansion. Everything
about it appeared to be as he could desire; the sitting-rooms were well
furnished, and the bedroom his daughter was to occupy with several other
girls looked remarkably comfortable, the walls being adorned with
pictures, of which, however, he did not take much notice, though he saw
by a glance he gave at them that they were Scripture subjects. As they
were passing along a passage, the mistress hastily closed a door, but
not until he observed at the farther end of the room a table, on which
stood vases of flowers and candlesticks surmounted by what looked very
like a crucifix; but he was too polite to interrogate Mrs Barnett on
the subject, and she evidently did not intend that he should look into
the room. To most of his inquiries he received satisfactory answers:
the young ladies attended church regularly, and were visited and
catechised periodically by a clergyman in whose judgment and piety Mrs
Barnett said she had the most perfect confidence. Poor Mary threw her
arms round her father's neck as he was taking his leave, and burst into
tears.
"I wish that I had not come, papa," she whispered. "I don't know why,
but I can't bear the thoughts of parting from you."
He endeavoured to comfort her, and consoled himself that he had acted
for the best, though it cost him much to leave his little girl in the
hands of strangers.
He had another duty to perform, less trying to his feelings, however.
It was to take Alfred up to Oxford. Alfred had specially requested to
be allowed to go to--College, which, though not enjoying the fame of
older institutions, Alfred averred that he should feel more at home at
than in any other. He was duly introduced to the head of his college,
where rooms were allotted to him, and forthwith matriculating, he became
an undergraduate. Mr Lennard, believing that he had performed his
duty, left his son to make his way as thousands of young men have had to
do before him.