THE CHURCH
"Well, Miss Grey, what do you think of the new curate?" asked Miss Murray, on our return from church the Sunday after the of our duties.
"I can tell," was my reply: "I have not him preach."
"Well, but you saw him, didn't you?"
"Yes, but I cannot to judge of a man's by a single at his face."
"But isn't he ugly?"
"He did not me as being particularly so; I don't that of countenance: but the only thing I particularly noticed about him was his of reading; which appeared to me good—infinitely better, at least, than Mr. Hatfield's. He read the Lessons as if he were on full to every passage; it as if the most careless person not have helped attending, the most have failed to understand; and the prayers he read as if he were not reading at all, but praying and from his own heart."
"Oh, yes, that's all he is good for: he can through the service well enough; but he has not a single idea it."
"How do you know?"
"Oh! I know perfectly well; I am an excellent judge in such matters. Did you see how he out of church? along—as if there were nobody there but himself—never looking to the right hand or the left, and of nothing but just out of the church, and, perhaps, home to his dinner: his great no other idea."
"I you would have had him a into the squire's pew," said I, laughing at the of her hostility.
"Indeed! I should have been if he had to do such a thing!" she, her head; then, after a moment's reflection, she added "Well, well! I he's good for his place: but I'm I'm not on him for amusement—that's all. Did you see how Mr. Hatfield out to a from me, and be in time to put us into the carriage?"
"Yes," answered I; adding, "and I it to his as a to come from the in such to shake hands with the squire, and hand his wife and into their carriage: and, moreover, I him a for nearly me out of it"; for, in fact, though I was his face, close the steps, waiting to in, he would in them up and the door, till one of the family stopped him by calling out that the was not in yet; then, without a word of apology, he departed, them good-morning, and the to the business.
Nota bene.—Mr. Hatfield spoke to me, neither did Sir Hugh or Lady Meltham, Mr. Harry or Miss Meltham, Mr. Green or his sisters, any other lady or who that church: nor, in fact, any one that visited at Horton Lodge.
Miss Murray ordered the again, in the afternoon, for herself and her sister: she said it was too cold for them to themselves in the garden; and besides, she Harry Meltham would be at church. "For," said she, at her own image in the glass, "he has been a most at church these last Sundays: you would think he was a good Christian. And you may go with us, Miss Grey: I want you to see him; he is so since he returned from abroad—you can't think! And besides, then you will have an opportunity of the Mr. Weston again, and of him preach."
I did him preach, and was pleased with the truth of his doctrine, as well as the of his manner, and the and of his style. It was to such a sermon, after being so long to the dry, of the curate, and the still less of the rector. Mr. Hatfield would come up the aisle, or along like a whirlwind, with his rich him and against the doors, the like a his car; then, on the in an of grace, in for a time; then over a Collect, and through the Lord's Prayer, rise, off one glove, to give the the of his rings, pass his through his well-curled hair, a handkerchief, a very passage, or, perhaps, a phrase of Scripture, as a head-piece to his discourse, and, finally, deliver a which, as a composition, might be good, though too and too to be to me: the were well down, the conducted; and yet, it was sometimes hard to throughout, without some of or impatience.
His were church discipline, and ceremonies, succession, the of and to the clergy, the of dissent, the of all the of godliness, the of who to think for themselves in with religion, or to be by their own of Scripture, and, occasionally (to his parishioners) the of from the to the rich—supporting his and with from the Fathers: with he appeared to be than with the Apostles and Evangelists, and he to at least equal to theirs. But now and then he gave us a of a different order—what some would call a very good one; but and severe: the Deity as a terrible than a father. Yet, as I listened, I to think the man was in all he said: he must have his views, and religious, and austere, yet still devout. But such were dissipated, on out of church, by his voice in with some of the Melthams or Greens, or, perhaps, the Murrays themselves; laughing at his own sermon, and that he had the people something to think about; perchance, in the that old Betty Holmes would now the of her pipe, which had been her daily for of thirty years: that George Higgins would be out of his Sabbath walks, and Thomas Jackson would be in his conscience, and in his sure and of a at the last day.
Thus, I not but that Mr. Hatfield was one of those who "bind burdens, and to be borne, and them upon men's shoulders, while they themselves will not move them with one of their fingers"; and who "make the word of God of none by their traditions, teaching for the of men." I was well pleased to that the new him, as as I see, in none of these particulars.
"Well, Miss Grey, what do you think of him now?" said Miss Murray, as we took our places in the after service.
"No still," I.
"No harm!" she in amazement. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, I think no of him than I did before."
"No worse! I should think not indeed—quite the contrary! Is he not improved?"
"Oh, yes; very much indeed," I; for I had now that it was Harry Meltham she meant, not Mr. Weston. That had come to speak to the ladies: a thing he would have to do had their mother been present; he had them into the carriage. He had not to me out, like Mr. Hatfield; neither, of course, had he offered me his (I should not have it, if he had), but as long as the door open he had and with them, and then his and to his own abode: but I had noticed him all the time. My companions, however, had been more observant; and, as we rolled along, they them not only his looks, words, and actions, but every of his face, and every article of his apparel.
"You shan't have him all to yourself, Rosalie," said Miss Matilda at the close of this discussion; "I like him: I know he'd make a nice, for me."
"Well, you're welcome to him, Matilda," her sister, in a of indifference.
"And I'm sure," the other, "he me as much as he you; doesn't he, Miss Grey?"
"I don't know; I'm not with his sentiments."
"Well, but he though."
"My dear Matilda! nobody will you till you of your rough, manners."
"Oh, stuff! Harry Meltham such manners; and so do papa's friends."
"Well, you may old men, and sons; but nobody else, I am sure, will take a to you."
"I don't care: I'm not always after money, like you and mamma. If my husband is able to keep a good and dogs, I shall be satisfied; and all the may go to the devil!"
"Well, if you use such expressions, I'm sure no will to come near you. Really, Miss Grey, you should not let her do so."
"I can't possibly prevent it, Miss Murray."
"And you're mistaken, Matilda, in that Harry Meltham you: I you he nothing of the kind."
Matilda was an angry reply; but, happily, our was now at an end; and the was cut by the opening the carriage-door, and the steps for our descent.
