But I spoke of my study, said the poor minister, as she paused, her indignation growing too eloquent for words: you want me to preach on Sunday, dont you? and I must have some time, you know, to do my work.
Sir, said Mrs. Brown, severely, I know it for a fact that Mr. Wentworth of St. Roques dines out five days in the week, and it dont do his sermons no injury; and when you go out to dinner, it stands to reason its a different thing from a friendly tea.
Ah, yes, most likely! said Mr. Vincent, with a heavy sigh. Ill come, since you wish it so much; but, added the unlucky young man, with a melancholy attempt at a smile, you must not be too kind to me. Too much of this kind of thing, you know, might have an effect Here he paused, inclined to laugh at his own powers of sarcasm. As chance would have it, as he pointed generally to the scene before them, the little wave of his hand seemed to Mrs. Brown to indicate the group round the piano, foremost in which was Phœbe, plump and pink, and full of dimples. The good mistress of the Devonshire Dairy gave her head a little toss.
Ah! said Mrs. Brown, with a sigh, you dont know, you young men, the half of the tricks of them girls that look so innocent. But I dont deny its a pleasant party, added the deaconess, looking round on the company in general with some complacency. But just you come along our way on Thursday, at six, and judge for yourself if mine aint quite as good; though I have not got no daughters, Mr. Vincent, she concluded, with severe irony, elevating her double chin and nodding her flowery head.
The subdued minister made no reply; only deeper and deeper humiliation seemed in store for him. Was it he, the first prize-man of Homerton, who was supposed to be already smitten by the pink charms of Phœbe Tozer? The unfortunate young man groaned in spirit, and, seizing a sudden opportunity, plunged into the black group of deacons, and tried to immerse himself in chapel business. But vain was the attempt. He was recaptured and led back in triumph to Mrs. Tozers sofa. He had to listen to more singing, and accept another invitation to tea. When he got off at last, it was with a sensation of dreadful dwindlement that poor Vincent crossed the street again to his lonely abode. He knocked quite humbly at the big door, and, with a sensation of unclerical rage, wondered to himself whether the policeman who met him knew he had been out to tea. Ah, blessed Mr. Wentworth of St. Roques! The young Nonconformist sighed as he put on his slippers, and kicked his boots into a corner of his sitting-room. Somehow he had come down in the world all at once, and without expecting it. Such was Salem Chapel and its requirements: and such was Mr. Vincents first experience of social life in Carlingford.
CHAPTER II
listlessly up the narrow bare stair of the poor lodging-house, suddenly came to himself as he stood within this humble apartment. If this was to be his penitent, the story she had to tell might be not unworthy of serious listening. He stammered forth a half apology and explanation of his errand, as he gazed surprised at so unexpected a figure, wondering within himself what intense strain and wear of life could have worn to so thin a tissue the outer garment of this keen and sharp-edged soul.
Come in, said the stranger, I am glad to see you. I know you, Mr. Vincent, though I cant suppose youve observed me. Take a seat. I have heard you preach ever since you came so, knowing in a manner how your thoughts run, Ive a kind of acquaintance with you: which, to be sure, isnt the same on your side. I daresay the woman at the Dairy sent you to me?
I understood from Mrs. Brown certainly that you wanted to see me, said the puzzled pastor.
Yes, it was quite true. I have resources in myself, to be sure, as much as most people, said his new acquaintance, whom he had been directed to ask for as Mrs. Hilyard, but still human relations are necessary; and as I dont know anybody here, I thought Id join the Chapel. Queer set of people, rather, dont you think? she continued, glancing up from her rapid stitching to catch Vincents conscious eye; they thought I was in spiritual distress, I suppose, and sent me the butterman. Lord bless us! if I had been, what could he have done for me, does anybody imagine? and when he didnt succeed, there came the Dairy person, who, I daresay, would have understood what I wanted had I been a cow. Now I can make out what Im doing when I have you, Mr. Vincent. I know your line a little from your sermons. That was wonderfully clever on Sunday morning about confirmation. I belong to the Church myself by rights, and was confirmed, of course, at the proper time, like other people, but I am a person of impartial mind. That was a famous downright blow. I liked you there.
I am glad to have your approbation, said the young minister, rather stiffly; but excuse me I was quite in earnest in my argument.
Yes, yes; that was the beauty of it, said his eager interlocutor, who went on without ever raising her eyes, intent upon the rough work which he could not help observing sometimes made her scarred fingers bleed as it passed rapidly through them. No argument is ever worth listening to if it isnt used in earnest. Ive led a wandering life, and heard an infinity of sermons of late years. When there are any brains in them at all, you know, they are about the only kind of mental stimulant a poor woman in my position can come by, for Ive no time for reading lately. Down here, in these regions, where the butterman comes to inquire after your spiritual interests, and is a superior being, added this singular new adherent of Salem, looking full for a single moment in her visitors eyes, with a slight movement of the muscles of her thin face, and making a significant pause, the airs a trifle heavy. It isnt pure oxygen we breathe in Back Grove Street, by any means.