Clara was seated in the drawing-room. She had just written a long
letter to Harry, in which she told him of the various events which had
taken place in the neighbourhood. She wrote unreservedly, describing,
among other persons, Mr and Mrs Lerew, and the constant attention and
kindness they had shown her. She naturally spoke of the church, and of
the various improvements, as she called them, which had been introduced.
"Nothing can be more elegant than the reredos which our excellent vicar
has erected at his own expense," she wrote. "The altar, too, is
beautifully adorned, and the music, considering the performers, is
wonderfully good; for Mrs Lerew has taken great pains to instruct the
choir, and we occasionally have a first-rate musician from London to
lead them; while an air of solemnity pervades the service, both on
Sundays and week-days, very different to anything we have before had in
this neighbourhood." She did not say that she went to confession, but
she remarked that she derived great comfort from the spiritual advice of
the vicar. The letter was closed ready for the post, when General
Caulfield was announced. He came to bid her and her father a hurried
farewell, as he had just been summoned by telegram to the north of
England, to the bedside of a dying brother, whose executor he was, and
he greatly feared that some time might elapse before he should be able
to return.
"I wish to suggest to you, my dear Clara, before I go," he said, "that
it will be well, in the position in which you are placed, to avoid too
great an intimacy with the vicar and his wife, of whose constant visits
to you I have heard. He may be, according to his own notions, a
religious man, but he is not acting faithfully to the Church of which he
is a minister. He has already made many innovations in this parish
which are contrary to the spirit and practice of that Protestant Church,
and, from what I hear and observe, he intends to make others; while he
has openly pleached several Romish doctrines, and I see his name among
the members of the Church Union, which avowedly repudiates Protestant
principles. I am sure that Harry would give you the advice I do, and I
deeply regret that I cannot remain to afford you any assistance you may
require."
A blush rose on Clara's brow. She could not openly express any
disagreement with the general, but she thought he was harsh and
illiberal in the opinion he had uttered. She replied that she had
already written to Harry, and told him all about the church and the
vicar, and hoped that he would not find any great fault with her.
The general appeared satisfied. He remained but a short time with his
poor friend, whom he believed that he should never again see on earth;
for he remarked, what Clara had failed to do, the great change in her
father's countenance since his last visit. He took an affectionate
farewell of his intended daughter-in-law and, not being aware of the
influence the vicar had already obtained over her and her aunt, he did
not further warn her against him. Still, he left her with some anxious
forebodings, regretting the stern necessity which compelled him to be
away from her at the time when his advice might be of so much
importance. The general's absence was felt by others in the parish; he
was looked upon as the person best calculated, from his position and
truly Christian character, to lead those desirous of opposing the
ritualistic practices introduced by the new vicar, which were already
making rapid progress. The general had been faithfully attached to the
establishment; he had gone, as usual, to the parish church, in spite of
the introduction of the surpliced choir, of "Hymns Ancient and Modern,"
the richly adorned communion-table, and several other additions which
had been cautiously introduced; but when he heard from the lips of the
vicar the doctrine of transubstantiation clearly and unmistakably
enounced, and afterwards saw him habited in a robe resembling that of a
Romish priest elevate the elements, he felt compelled to absent himself,
and on the next Sunday to attend the service at a Congregational chapel.
He had, in in the meantime, expostulated with Mr Lerew, both
personally and by letter, but had received only a curt and
unsatisfactory reply. He had afterwards heard, from undoubted
authority, that the doctrine of purgatory was taught to the
schoolchildren; that prayers for the dead were offered up, as also
prayers to the Virgin Mary; that the saints were invoked; that a font
had been placed at the entrance of the church for the reception of holy
water. A considerable number of the parishioners had for some time
withdrawn themselves from the church; Lieutenant Sims had declared that
he would never enter it to listen to Mr Lerew, after he had heard him
say that the Bible was a dangerous book. Many sided with the
lieutenant; others asserted that he must have misunderstood the vicar--
he could not have uttered such an opinion; some even went so far as to
say Mr Sims had through envy, hatred, and malice stated what he knew to
be a falsehood. The lieutenant, supported by his wife, boldly adhered
to what he had said; the parishioners were by the ears on the subject.
Miss Pemberton had been appealed to, but declared she could not
understand what Mr Lerew had said, and her evidence went rather against
Mr Sims; but when candles and flowers appeared on the altar, and a rich
cross rose above it, and the vicar, habited in new-fangled robes, turned
his back on the congregation, the partisans of the gallant lieutenant
increased, and each innovation introduced by the vicar brought Mr Sims
a fresh accession of supporters. They talked seriously of building
another church, and made arrangements to apply to the bishop; but it was
found that both parties were so scattered over the two parishes, which
were of very considerable extent, that their object was unattainable.
While General Caulfield remained among them, he prevented the flame of
discord from bursting forth. He allowed no angry word to escape his
lips, but contented himself with simply preaching the Gospel, either in
the Congregational Chapel on a week-day evening, or in a large barn he
had hired and fitted up for the purpose of holding meetings. It was
always full, and many came from the farther end of the parish. Calm and
calculating as Mr Lerew generally was, he became excessively indignant
on hearing of this; but he considered the general too important a person
to be attacked personally, though he spoke everywhere in the strongest
terms of his unwarrantable conduct, denominating him as a schismatic of
the worst description. Great was his satisfaction when he heard that
the general had gone away. He now fancied that he could carry on his
proceedings without opposition. He was mistaken, however; for
Lieutenant Sims and his party ceased not to protest against all he did;
and petitions were sent to the bishop, who, however, if he did not
encourage Mr Lerew's proceedings, took no steps to put a stop to them.
Mr Lennard was appealed to, but he declined to interfere, declaring
that he saw nothing so very objectionable in the changes which had been
made; and as to doctrines, the vicar of the parish was more likely to
know what was right or wrong than the parishioners whom he came to
teach.
"In my opinion, our late vicar is as bad as the present one," exclaimed
Lieutenant Sims; "but how the poor man, whom all thought so much of, has
been so completely bamboozled is more than I can tell."
Mr Lerew had lately, by the advice of Lady Bygrave, designed a grand
scheme. It was the establishment of a college or school for eighty
young ladies in the parish, for whose accommodation handsome buildings
were to be erected; and Lady Bygrave, with other ladies of consequence
in the county, undertook to be patronesses. In his prospectus Mr Lerew
dwelt especially on the importance of young ladies being carefully
trained in religious principles, and removed from the pernicious
influence of unauthorised instructors; whereas at Saint Agatha's they
would be placed under the direct superintendence of their lawful
priests, and instructed in catholic doctrine. Lady Bygrave had already
recommended as mother superior a lady of great piety and experience, and
the teachers were to be sisters of the community of Saint Mary the
Virgin, in the neighbouring town of Bansfield, who were celebrated for
their truly religious and self-denying lives. The young ladies, thus
judiciously trained, would, it was hoped, become the mothers of
England's future legislators, and materially contribute to the
establishment of catholic principles throughout the land. Mr Lerew
had, however, another prospectus more generally circulated among those
of whose principles he was uncertain, and in which he simply set forth
that an excellent first-class school was about to be established for the
benefit of their own and neighbouring counties, and asking for
subscriptions and support to so desirable an institution.
Subscriptions, however, did not come in with the same rapidity as he had
hoped, and he saw that he must employ other means for raising the
necessary funds. Mrs Lerew wrote to all her more wealthy
acquaintances, and Lady Bygrave was, as usual, most liberal. Few of the
parishioners would subscribe, with the exception of some of the
principal tradesmen, who hoped to do business with the new
establishment, Mr Rowe, an apothecary, who expected to be employed as
medical attendant, and the solicitor who had been engaged in making the
legal arrangements.
People had begun to grow suspicious of the vicar, and even of Lady
Bygrave, in consequence of the long stay at the Hall of the abbe and
Father Lascelles. Lady Bygrave did her utmost to maintain her
popularity by incessantly driving about and visiting the houses of the
better-to-do people and the cottages of the poor, much as she would have
done on an electioneering canvass. She was, of course, politely
received by all classes; but though she won over some, a large number of
people were too sound Protestants to be influenced by her plausible and
attractive manners. It would have been happy for poor Clara and her
Aunt Sarah, had they been equally on their guard. Miss Pemberton,
indeed, declared that whatever so charming a person as Lady Bygrave did
must be right, and she now not only attended all the services at the
church on Sundays and week-days, but induced Clara to accompany her.
Though Clara went, she often felt that it was her duty to be watching by
the bedside of her father; she, indeed, sometimes begged on that plea to
remain at home.
"But, my dear, your duties to God and the commands of our Holy Church
are superior to those you owe to a human parent, and you should
therefore not allow yourself to be influenced by the natural affections
of your heart," observed Miss Pemberton, using the argument she had
previously learned from Mr Lerew.
Clara had been absent at one of these week-day services, and the vicar
had promised to call and have some conversation with her and her aunt,
when on her return she observed an expression of subdued sorrow and
alarm on the countenances of the servants.
"Is my father worse?" she asked anxiously; and before any one could stop
her, she rushed upstairs, and entered Captain Maynard's room. She
approached the bed. There was no movement--his eyes were closed, and
the nurse was standing by the bedside--her father was dead. She knew it
at once, and as she leant over him, she sank fainting on his inanimate
body. Miss Pemberton, having learned the truth, quickly followed, and
directed that she should be carried from the room. On the application
of restoratives Clara revived; but scarcely had she returned to
consciousness than Mr Lerew drove up to the door. Though he was told
what had happened, he insisted on seeing Miss Maynard.
"As a priest, I can afford her spiritual comfort and support," he said,
almost forcing his way in. Miss Pemberton, not daring to decline his
visit, ushered him into Clara's room. He took a seat by her side. He
spoke softly and gently.
"We must look at what has happened as a dispensation of heaven," he
remarked; "but though, unhappily, your father to the last refused the
ordinances of our Church, I am fain to believe that he did so under
malign influence, and from weakness of mind induced by sickness. It is
a consolation to know that prayers continually offered in his behalf by
a true votaress to the loving Mother of God can in time release him from
the condition in which I fear he is placed. With what thankfulness you
should receive this glorious doctrine, my dear Miss Maynard! what calm
should it bring to your troubled heart! I will not fail, believe me, to
offer the prayers of the Church for the same object; and if you did but
consider their efficacy, you would cease to mourn as you now do."
Poor Clara was too completely overwhelmed by grief to understand the
meaning of what the vicar said, though she heard the words issuing from
his mouth.
"I will relieve you," he continued, "from all the painful arrangements
connected with the funeral, in conjunction with your aunt, whom I will
now join in the drawing-room."
"Oh! thank you! thank you!" exclaimed Clara, between her sobs. "I shall
be most grateful--do whatever you think best."
Mr Lerew retired; and after a conversation of some length with Miss
Pemberton he drove away. Clara--so absorbing was her grief--could with
difficulty regain her power of thought. She felt alone in the world.
Had General Caulfield been at home, she would have had him to consult;
but she had no confidence in her Aunt Sarah's judgment, though she had
of late been more guided by her than she was aware of.
"Our excellent vicar and I have arranged everything," said Miss
Pemberton, on entering the room some time afterwards; "so do not further
trouble yourself about the matter."
Clara expressed her thanks to her aunt. Completely prostrate, she
remained in bed. Workmen sent by the vicar came to the house, and were
employed for some time in her father's room. She dared not inquire what
they were about. At length she arose and dressed. She felt a longing
desire once more to gaze on those dear features. She inquired whether
she might go to the room.
"Oh, yes, miss," was the answer. "It's all done up on purpose, and
looks so grand."
She hurried on, and, entering, what was her astonishment to find the
room draped in black, the windows closed, and several long wax candles
arranged round the bed on which her father's body lay, dressed in his
naval uniform. She approached, and leant over the bed, on which, after
standing gazing at his features for some minutes, she sank down with her
arms extended, almost fainting. At that instant the vicar appeared at
the doorway.
"What a lovely picture!" he whispered, as if to himself; "can anything
surpass it?"
Clara heard him, and had still strength sufficient to rise.
"We have done what we can to do honour to your father," he said,
advancing and taking her hand. "Had General Caulfield been present, we
should have been prevented from making these arrangements; and I lay all
the blame of Captain Maynard's neglect of the sacred ordinances on him,
as I am sure it will be laid at the day of judgment; therefore, my sweet
young lady, I would urge you to mourn not as those without hope. I come
to console and sympathise with you. Let me lead you from the room, as
others are anxious to pay their last respects to your parent; it will be
trying to your feelings to receive them."
Clara submitted, and was led by the vicar into the drawing-room, where
she found her aunt. Mr Lerew now became more cheerful in his
conversation, and spoke of his new college, and of a society of Anglican
sisters of mercy, in which he was deeply interested. He enlarged on
their pious, self-denying labours, so admirably adapted to distract the
minds of the sorrowing from worldly cares and the thoughts of the past,
and the charming qualities of the lady superior, and of the calm
happiness enjoyed by all under her rule.
"You will find subjects for consideration in these volumes," said Mr
Lerew, taking two books from his pocket; "the one describes fully the
joys of a religious life, and the other points out to you rules for your
daily government. Your aunt has already several works I left with her
some time ago, to which I would also draw your attention; and may they
prove a blessing to your soul."
Saying this, the vicar took his leave. In the meantime several persons
had come to the house; and scarcely had the vicar left the room than the
voice of Mr Sims was heard exclaiming, "By whose authority, I should
like to know, has the death-bed of my poor friend been surrounded by
those popish play-acting mummeries which I witnessed just now? He was
one of the last men on earth who would have sanctioned such
proceedings."
"Sir, sir!" exclaimed Mr Lerew in an angry tone, "I scarcely understand
your meaning; but if you allude to the arrangements in the chamber of
death above, I have to inform you that they were made by those who had
ample authority for doing as they thought right; and I have to add that
I consider your remarks indecorous and highly impertinent."
"I differ with you on that point," answered the lieutenant, restraining
his anger; "and I only hope my poor friend's daughter has had nothing to
do with the matter. It signifies very little to him, or I believe he'd
get up and capsize all the candles, and cut down the black cloth rigged
round his bed. Why, I'm as sure as I am of my own existence that he
died like a true Christian, and is now in the glorious realms of the
blest, or I don't know what the Gospel means. What does he want with
all that black stuff round him? It's just robbing the orphan to put
money in the pockets of the undertakers. And now you've got my opinion,
I'll wish you good morning;" and Mr Sims walked out of the house,
leaving the vicar fuming and boiling with unwonted rage.
Mr Sims had intended leaving a message expressive of his and his wife's
sympathy for poor Clara; but his indignation at what he had witnessed
very naturally threw everything else out of his head. He
notwithstanding attended Captain Maynard's funeral, which was conducted
with more ceremonies than had ever yet taken place in the parish.
Numerous carriages followed the hearse, and the procession formed in the
church walked after the coffin, the individuals forming it surrounding
the grave, chanting a requiem as the coffin was committed to its last
resting-place.
The vicar had kept secret the last interview he had had with Captain
Maynard, who, he let it be supposed, had gone through all the required
ordinances of the Church before the last seizure, which had deprived him
of the power of speech. Those who knew the captain best averred that he
would never have consented to the performance in his presence of any
Romish ceremony, and that the vicar had some object in view in allowing
the idea to get abroad. The parish became more divided than ever, but
the original cause of dispute held its ground, and those who sided with
the vicar would no longer visit or speak to those who believed that he
had declared the Bible to be a dangerous book.
Clara's grief for the loss of her father was sincere and deep. Her
nature was one requiring such consolation as a sympathising friend could
afford. Her aunt was never sympathising or gentle, and she had become
still less so since she had attended the frequent services of the
Church. Early rising did not suit her constitution; but though she
thoroughly disliked it, she considered it her duty to induce her niece
to accompany her.
Thus time went on at Luton. General Caulfield was detained in the
North; he wrote frequently to Clara. Not aware of the influences to
which she was exposed, he did not mention the vicar, and failed to
caution her, as he otherwise would have done. She, knowing his
opinions, did not venture to tell him all that was occurring, though he
saw by the tone of her letters that she was unhappy and ill at ease from
some cause or other, besides the natural grief she felt for the loss of
her father, and her anxiety about Harry. She had heard of his arrival,
and that his regiment was ordered up the country, but she had received
no answer to the letter she wrote, describing the services at the
church, and the various changes introduced by the vicar. Her aunt had,
in the meantime, become less agreeable and communicative even than
before. She was constantly absorbed in the books lent her by Mr Lerew,
and she very frequently drove over to the Vicarage to see him. Clara
had at first felt but little interest in the two works he had presented
to her; she had glanced over their pages, and was somewhat startled at
the language used and the advice given in them, so different to that to
which she had been accustomed. On one of his visits he inquired whether
she had studied them, and she had to confess the truth. He then
entreated her not to risk her spiritual welfare by any longer neglecting
to read the works so calculated to advance it. She promised to follow
his advice. Had Clara known more of the world, and possessed more
self-reliance, her eyes might have been opened by what she read; but she
wanted some one to lean on, and on her aunt's judgment she had no
reliance. The vicar appeared, from his position and serious manner, to
be the person in whom she ought to confide. Had the general been at
Luton, she would have gone to him; but she could not write what she
might have spoken; and she finally gave herself up to the guidance of
Mr Lerew, as her aunt had long since done.
The following Sunday the communion was to be held, or, as the vicar
expressed it, the Holy Eucharist was to be celebrated; "But," he added,
"I have made it a rule that I will administer it to none who have not
made confession and received that absolution I am authorised to grant."
"I was not aware of that," said Clara; "how long has that rule existed?"
"I have only lately made it," he replied, "and from it I cannot depart."
Clara hesitated; but her aunt, who had several times gone to confession,
assured her that there was nothing in it very terrible, and overcame her
scruples. Clara promised to go. It was held in the vestry, one person
at a time only being admitted. The questions asked and the answers
given cannot be repeated. Clara, as she knelt leaning on a chair in
front of the priest, could with difficulty support herself; her heart
felt bursting; she was nearly fainting; the colour mounted to her cheeks
and brow; she could not lift her eyes from the ground towards the man
who was questioning her. More than once she was inclined to rise and
flee from the room rather than continue to undergo the mental torture
she was suffering. Never afterwards did she look the vicar in the face.
At length the ordeal was over, the _Te absolvo_ was pronounced, and
she, with trembling knees, hanging down her head, tottered to her pew by
the side of her aunt, where she knelt to conceal her features, while
uncontrollable sobs burst from her bosom.
"What's the matter?" whispered Miss Pemberton. "Take my
smelling-bottle. Don't let people hear you; they'll fancy there must be
something very dreadful."
The music that day was unusually good. Several first-rate performers
had been engaged to attend, with three or four clergymen from various
parts of the county. They, in their richest robes, glittering with
embroidery, walked round the church. There were the acolytes with
lighted candles, the thurifer, with the cross-bearer, and others
carrying banners; while the organ played, and the fumes of incense
filled the church. Clara's agitation ceased, but no peace was brought
to her soul. She returned home with her aunt, humbled and more wretched
than she had ever before felt in her life.