A Tale of a Lonely Parish Part 16

"If you are so positive," said the vicar, resorting to a form of defence generally learned in the nursery, "why do you ask me?"

"I insist upon knowing, Augustin, is it, or is it not, Mrs. G.o.ddard?"

"My dear, I positively refuse to answer any more questions," said the vicar with tardy firmness.

"Oh, it is no matter," retorted Mrs. Ambrose in complete triumph, "if it were not Mrs. G.o.ddard of course you would say so at once."

A form of argument so unanswerable, that the vicar hastily left the room feeling that he had basely betrayed John's confidence, and muttering something about intolerable curiosity. Mrs. Ambrose had vanquished her husband, as she usually did on those rare occasions when anything approaching to a dispute arose between them. Having come to the conclusion that "it" was Mrs. G.o.ddard, the remainder of the secret needed no discovery. It was plain that John must be in love with the tenant of the cottage, and it seemed likely that it would devolve upon Mrs. Ambrose to clear up the matter. She was very fond of John and her first impression was that Mrs. G.o.ddard, whom she now again suspected of having foreign blood, had "led him on"--an impression which the vicar had antic.i.p.ated when he rashly resolved not to tell his wife John's secret.

She knew very well that the vicar must have told John his mind in regard to such an attachment, and she easily concluded that he must have done so on the previous evening when John called him into the study. But she had just won a victory over her husband, and she consequently felt that he was weak, probably too weak to save the situation, and it was borne in upon her that she ought to do something immediately. Unhappily she did not see quite clearly what was to be done. She might go straight to Mrs.

G.o.ddard and accuse her of having engaged John's affections; but the more she thought of that, the more diffident she grew in regard to the result of such an interview. Curiosity had led her to a certain point, but caution prevented her from going any further. Mrs. Ambrose was very cautious. The habit of living in a small place, feeling that all her actions were watched by the villagers and duly commented upon by them, had made her even more careful than she was by nature. It would be very unwise to bring about a scene with Mrs. G.o.ddard unless she were very sure of the result. Mrs. G.o.ddard was hardly a friend. In Mrs. Ambrose's opinion an acquaintance of two years and a half standing involving almost daily meetings and the constant exchange of civilities did not const.i.tute friendship. Nevertheless the vicar's wife would have been ashamed to own that after such long continued intercourse she was wholly ignorant of Mrs. G.o.ddard's real character; especially as the latter had requested the vicar to tell Mrs. Ambrose her story when she first appeared at Billingsfield. Moreover, as her excitement at the victory she had gained over her husband began to subside, she found herself reviewing mentally the events of the last few days. She remembered distinctly that John had perpetually pursued Mrs. G.o.ddard, and that although the latter seemed to find him agreeable enough, she had never to Mrs. Ambrose's knowledge given him any of those open encouragements in the way of smiles and signals, which in the good lady's mind were cla.s.sified under the term "flirting." Mrs. Ambrose's ideas of flirtation may have been antiquated; thirty years of Billingsfield in the society of the Reverend Augustin had not contributed to their extension; but, on the whole, they were just.

Mrs. G.o.ddard had not flirted with John. It is worthy of notice that in proportion as the difficulties she would enter upon by demanding an explanation from Mrs. G.o.ddard seemed to grow in magnitude, she gradually arrived at the conclusion that it was John's fault. Half an hour ago, in the flush of triumph she had indignantly denied that anything could be John's fault. She now resolved to behave to him with great austerity.

Such an occurrence as his falling in love could not be pa.s.sed over with indifference. It seemed best that he should leave Billingsfield very soon.

John thought so too. Existence would not be pleasant now that the vicar knew his secret, and he cursed the folly and curiosity which had led him to betray himself in order to find out whether Mr. Juxon thought of marrying Mrs. G.o.ddard. He had now resolved to return to Cambridge at once and to work his hardest until the Tripos was over. He would then come back to Billingsfield and, with his honours fresh upon him and the prospect of immediate success before him, he would throw himself at Mrs.

G.o.ddard's feet. But of course he must have one farewell interview. Oh, those farewell interviews! Those leave-takings, wherein often so much is taken without leave!

Accordingly at luncheon he solemnly announced his intention of leaving the vicarage on the morrow. Mrs. Ambrose received the news with an equanimity which made John suspicious, for she had heretofore constantly pressed him to extend his holiday, expressing the greatest solicitude for his health. She now sat stony as a statue and said very coldly that she was sorry he had to go so soon, but that, of course, it could not be helped. The vicar was moved by his wife's apparent indifference. John, he said, might at least have stayed till the end of the promised week; but at this suggestion Mrs. Ambrose darted at her husband a look so full of fierce meaning, that the vicar relapsed into silence, returning to the consideration of bread and cheese and a salad of mustard and cress. John saw the look and was puzzled; he did not believe the vicar capable of going straight to Mrs. Ambrose with the story of the last night's interview. But he was already so much disturbed that he did not attempt to explain to himself what was happening.

But when lunch was over, and he realised that he had declared his intention of leaving Billingsfield on the next day, he saw that if he meant to see Mrs. G.o.ddard before he left he must go to her at once. He therefore waited until he heard Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose talking together in the sitting-room and then slipped quietly out by the garden to the road.

He had no idea what he should say when he met Mrs. G.o.ddard. He meant, of course, to let her understand, or at least suppose, that he was leaving suddenly on her account, but he did not know in the least how to accomplish it. He trusted that the words necessary to him would come into his head spontaneously. His heart beat fast and he was conscious that he blushed as he rang the bell of the cottage. Almost before he knew where he was, he found himself ushered into the little drawing-room and in the presence of the woman he now felt sure that he loved. But to his great annoyance she was not alone; Nellie was with her. Mrs. G.o.ddard sat near the fire, reading a review; Nellie was curled up in a corner of the deep sofa with a book, her thick brown curls falling all over her face and hands as she read. Mrs. G.o.ddard extended her hand, without rising.

"How do you do, Mr. Short?" she said. The young man stood hat in hand in the middle of the room, feeling very nervous. It was strange that he should experience any embarra.s.sment now, considering how many hours he had spent in her company during the last few days. He blushed and stammered.

"How do you do? I, in fact--I have come to say good-bye," he blurted out.

"So soon?" said Mrs. G.o.ddard calmly. "Pray sit down."

"Are you really going away, Mr. Short?" asked Nellie. "We are so sorry to lose you." The child had caught the phrase from a book she had been reading, and thought it very appropriate. Her mother smiled.

"Yes--as Nellie says--we are sorry to lose you," she said. "I thought you were to stay until Monday?"

"So I was--but--very urgent business--not exactly business of course, but work--calls me away sooner." Having delivered himself of this masterpiece of explanation John looked nervously at Nellie and then at his hat and then, with an imploring glance, at Mrs. G.o.ddard.

"But we shall hear of you, Mr. Short--after the examinations, shall we not?"

"Oh yes," said John eagerly. "I will come down as soon as the lists are out."

"You have my best wishes, you know," said Mrs. G.o.ddard kindly. "I feel quite sure that you will really be senior cla.s.sic."

"Mamma is always saying that--it is quite true," explained Nellie.

John blushed again and looked gratefully at Mrs. G.o.ddard. He wished Nellie would go away, but there was not the least chance of that.

"Yes," said Mrs. G.o.ddard, "I often say it. We all take a great interest in your success here."

"You are very kind," murmured John. "Of course I shall come down at once and tell you all about it, if I succeed. I do not really expect to be first, of course. I shall be satisfied if I get a place in the first ten.

But I mean to do my best."

"No one can do more," said Mrs. G.o.ddard, leaning back in her chair and looking into the fire. Her face was quiet, but not sad as it sometimes was. There was a long silence which John did not know how to break.

Nellie sat upon a carved chair by the side of the fireplace dangling her legs and looking at her toes, turning them alternately in and out. She wished John would go for she wanted to get back to her book, but had been told it was not good manners to read when there were visitors. John looked at Mrs. G.o.ddard's face and was about to speak, and then changed his mind and grew red and said nothing. Had she noticed his shyness she would have made an effort at conversation, but she was absent-minded to-day, and was thinking of something else. Suddenly she started and laughed a little.

"I beg your pardon," she said. "What were you saying, Mr. Short?" Had John been saying anything he would have repeated it, but being thus interrogated he grew doubly embarra.s.sed.

"I--I have not much to say--except good-bye," he answered.

"Oh, don't go yet," said Mrs. G.o.ddard. "You are not going this afternoon?

It is always so unpleasant to say good-bye, is it not?"

"Dreadfully," answered John. "I would rather say anything else in the world. No; I am going early to-morrow morning. There is no help for it,"

he added desperately. "I must go, you know."

"The next time you come, you will be able to stay much longer," said Mrs.

G.o.ddard in an encouraging way. "You will have no more terms, then."

"No indeed--nothing but to take my degree."

"And what will you do then? You said the other day that you thought seriously of going into the church."

"Oh mamma," interrupted Nellie suddenly looking up, "fancy Mr. Short in a black gown, preaching like Mr. Ambrose! How perfectly ridiculous he would look!"

"Nellie--Nellie!" exclaimed Mrs. G.o.ddard, "do not talk nonsense. It is very rude to say Mr. Short would look ridiculous."

"I didn't mean to be rude, mamma," returned Nellie, blushing scarlet and pouting her lips, "only it would be very funny, wouldn't it?"

"I daresay it would," said John, relieved by the interruption. "I wish you would advise me what to do, Mrs. G.o.ddard," he added in a confidential tone.

"I?" she exclaimed, and then laughed. "How should I be able to advise you?"

"I am sure you could," said John, insisting. "You have such wonderfully good judgment--"

"Have I? I did not know it. But, tell me, if you come out very high are you not sure of getting a fellowship?"

"It is likely," answered John indifferently. "But I should have to give it up if I married--"

"Surely, Mr. Short," cried Mrs. G.o.ddard, with a laugh that cut him to the quick, "you do not think of marrying for many years to come?"

"Oh--I don't know," he said, blushing violently, "why should not I?"

"In the first place, a man should never marry until he is at least five and twenty years old," said Mrs. G.o.ddard, calmly.

"Well--I may be as old as that before I get the fellowship."

"Yes, I daresay. But even then, why should you want to resign a handsome independence as soon as you have got it? Is there anything else so good within your reach?"

"There is the church, of course," said John. "But Miss Nellie seems to think that ridiculous--"

"Never mind Nellie," answered Mrs. G.o.ddard. "Seriously, Mr. Short, do you approve of entering the church merely as a profession, a means of earning money?"