The Vicar of Wrexhill Part 41

Again f.a.n.n.y Mowbray trembled. "Alas! then I may still risk the danger of eternal fire by this thing,--for am I of the elect?"

The vicar knew that Mrs. Mowbray was waiting for him, and fearing that this long delay might have a strange appearance, he hastily concluded the conversation by exclaiming with as much vehemence as brevity, "You are! You are!"

CHAPTER XIII.

MRS. SIMPSON'S CHARITABLE VISIT.--CHARLES'S TROUBLES CONTINUE.

From this time most of f.a.n.n.y Mowbray's hours were spent in writing tracts; which, as soon as completed, were delivered to Mr. Cartwright.

He received them ever with expressions of mingled admiration and grat.i.tude, constantly a.s.suring her, the next time they met, that nothing could be more admirably calculated to answer the effect intended, and that the last was incomparably superior to all which had preceded it.

This occupation of writing tracts, first hit upon for the convenient occupation of f.a.n.n.y Mowbray, was soon converted, by the ready wit of Mr.

Cartwright, into an occupation, in one way or another, for all the professing Christians in his parish who happened to have nothing to do.

Those who are at all acquainted with the manner in which the "Church Methodists," as they are called, obtain the unbounded influence which they are known to possess in their different parishes, particularly over the female part of their congregations, must be aware, that, great and violent as the effect of their pa.s.sionate extempore preaching often is, it is not to that alone that they trust for obtaining it. From the time Mr. Cartwright became Vicar of Wrexhill, he had been unremitting in his exertions of every kind to obtain power, influence, and dominion throughout the parish, and, on the whole, had been pretty generally successful. How far his handsome person and pleasing address contributed to this, it is not here necessary to inquire; but it is certain that he drew upon these advantages largely in his intercourse with the females in general, and with the ladies in particular. But though at first this particular species of devotion was exceedingly agreeable to him, both in its exercise and its success, he now found very considerable inconvenience from the difficulty of keeping up the frequency of his pastoral visits to his fair converts without giving more time to them than was consistent with his infinitely more important avocations at the Park.

As soon, however, as he perceived how completely the writing of tracts occupied f.a.n.n.y Mowbray during the time that was formerly bestowed upon listening to his sentimental divinity, he determined that several others of his female parishioners should dispose of their superfluous time in the same manner.

Within twenty-four hours after he came to this decision, the three Misses Richards had, each and every of them, purchased a quire of foolscap paper, a quarter of a hundred of goose-quills, with a bottle of ink, and a Concordance, in common between them. Miss Stokes too, the little blue-eyed milliner, and Mrs. Knighton, the late post-master's widow, and Mrs. Watkins, the haberdasher's wife, were all furnished with abundant materials of the same value; and all of them determined to give up every earthly thing, if it were necessary, rather than disappoint the dear, blessed Mr. Cartwright of the comfort of receiving any thing he expected from them.

The widow Simpson, and even her little holy Mimima, had also employment found for them; which, though it could but ill supply to that regenerate lady the loss of Mr. Cartwright's society, which at this particular time she was in a great degree deprived of, served, nevertheless, to soothe her by the conviction, that though not seen, she was remembered.

The part of the business consigned to Mrs. Simpson was the selling the tracts. It was not without surprise that the people of the neighbourhood, particularly the unawakened, saw the parlour-windows of "the princ.i.p.al person in the village" disfigured by a large square paper, looking very much as if it announced lodgings to let, but which, upon closer examination, proved to be inscribed as follows: "Religious tracts, hymns, and meditations sold here, at one penny each, or ninepence halfpenny for the dozen."

Miss Mimima's duty was to hold in her hand a square box, with a slit cut in the lid thereof, in which all who purchased the tracts were requested to deposit their money for the same; and when the customer's appearance betokened the possession of more pennies than their purchase required, the little girl was instructed to say, "One more penny, please ma'am, (or sir,) for the love of the Lord."

Thus, for the pleasant interval of a few weeks, every thing went on smoothly. Helen, at the earnest request of her brother, and convinced by his arguments, as well as those of Lady Harrington and Rosalind, that, under existing circ.u.mstances, it was right to do so, made several morning visits to Oakley.

Had she been questioned concerning this, she would most frankly have avowed both the act and the motives for it. But no such questionings came. Charles himself dined there repeatedly, but was never asked why he absented himself, nor where he had been.

During this period, Mrs. Mowbray seemed to encourage rather more than usual the intercourse of the family with their Wrexhill neighbours. The season being no longer favourable for walking, the Mowbray carriage was to be seen two or three times in a week at Mrs. Simpson's, Mrs.

Richards's and the Vicarage; but it often happened, that though Mrs.

Mowbray proposed a visit to Wrexhill while they were at the breakfast-table, and that the coachman immediately received orders to be at the door accordingly, when the time arrived her inclination for the excursion was found to have evaporated, and the young people went thither alone.

Upon one occasion of this kind, when, f.a.n.n.y being deeply engaged in the composition of a tract, and Charles gone to Oakley, Miss Torrington and Helen had the carriage to themselves, they agreed that instead of making the proposed visit to Mrs. Simpson, they should go to inquire for a little patient of Helen's, the child of a poor hard-working woman, who had long been one of her pensioners at Wrexhill.

The entrance to the house was by a side door from a lane too narrow to permit the carriage to turn; the two young ladies therefore were put down at the corner of it, and their approach was unheard by those who occupied the room upon which the door of the house opened, although it stood ajar. But as they were in the very act of entering, they were stopped by words so loud and angry, that they felt disposed to turn back and abandon their charitable intention altogether.

But Rosalind's ear caught a sound that made her curious to hear more; and laying her hand on Helen's arm, and at the same time making a sign that she should be silent, they stood for a moment on the threshold, that they might decide whether to retreat or advance.

"You nasty abominable woman, you!" these were the first words which distinctly reached them; "you nasty untidy creature! look at the soap-suds, do, all splashed out upon the ground! How can you expect a Christian lady, who is the princ.i.p.al person in the parish, to come and look after your nasty dirty soul, you untidy pig, you?"

"Lord love you, my lady! 'tis downright unpossible to keep one little room neat, and fit for the like of you, when I have the washing of three families to do in it.--Heaven be praised for it!--and to cook my husband's bit of dinner, and let three little ones crawl about in it, besides."

"Stuff and nonsense!" responded the princ.i.p.al person in the village, "whoever heard of washing making people dirty? Look here,--put out your hand, can't you? I am sure I shall come no nearer to you and your tub.

Take these three tracts, and take care you expound them to your husband; and remember that you are to bring them back again in one month without a single speck of dirt upon them."

"You be sent by the new vicar, beant you, Madam Simpson?" inquired the woman.

"Sent, woman? I don't know what you mean by 'sent.' As a friend and joint labourer with Mr. Cartwright in the vineyard, I am come to take your soul out of the nethermost pit; but if you will persist in going on soaping and rubbing at that rate instead of listening to me, I don't see that you have any more chance of salvation than your black kettle there.

Mercy on me! I shall catch my death of cold here! Tell me at once, do you undertake to expound these tracts to your husband?"

"Dear me! no, my lady; I was brought up altogether to the washing line."

"What has that to do with it, you stupid sinner? I can't stay any longer in this horrid, damp, windy hole; but take care that you expound, for I insist upon it; and if you don't you may depend upon it Mr. Cartwright won't give you one penny of the sacrament money."

So saying, the pious lady turned away and opened the door upon Miss Torrington and Helen.

Conscious, perhaps, that her _Christian duty_ had not been performed in so lady-like a manner as it might have been, had she known that any portion of the Park family were within hearing, the princ.i.p.al person in the village started and coloured at seeing them; but, aware how greatly she had outrun the two young ladies in the heavenly race, she immediately recovered herself and said, "I am afraid, young ladies, that your errand here is not the same as mine. Betty Thomas is a poor sinful creature, and I hope you are not going to give her money till she is reported elect, Miss Mowbray? It will really be no less than a sin if you do."

"She has a sick child, Mrs. Simpson," replied Helen, "and I am going to give her money to buy what will make broth for it."

Helen then entered the room, made her inquiries for the little sufferer, and putting her donation into sinful Betty Thomas's soapy hand, returned to Mrs. Simpson and Rosalind, who remained conversing at the door.

It was raining hard, and Miss Mowbray asked Mrs. Simpson if she should take her home.

"That is an offer that I won't refuse, Miss Mowbray, though I am within, and you are without, the pale. But I am terribly subject to catching cold; and I do a.s.sure you that this winter weather makes a serious Christian's duty very difficult to do, I have got rid of seventy tracts since first of December."

"You sell the tracts, do you not, Mrs. Simpson?" said Rosalind.

"Yes, Miss Torrington,--I sell them and lend them, and now and then give them, when I think it is a great object to have them seen in any particular house."

"Have you collected much, ma'am, by the sale?"

"Not a very large sum as yet, Miss Torrington; but I am getting on in many different ways for the furtherance of Heaven's work. Perhaps, ladies, though you have not as yet put your own hands to the plough that shall open the way for you to a place among the heavenly host, you may like to see my account?"

"I should like it very much, Mrs. Simpson," said Rosalind.

The lady then drew from her reticule a small pocket-book, from which she read several items, which from various sources contributed, as she said, "to fill a bag for the Work," to be expended upon the saints by the hands of their pious vicar.

By the time this interesting lecture was finished, the carriage had reached Mrs. Simpson's door, and having set her down, was ordered home.

"Now will I give Charles a _pendant_ to the exquisite poetical effusion which he bestowed on me some time since," said Rosalind, drawing forth pencil and paper from a pocket of the carriage, in which Mrs. Mowbray was accustomed of late to deposit what the vicar called "sacred memoranda;" by which were signified all the sc.r.a.ps of gossip respecting the poor people among whom she distributed tracts, that she could collect for his private ear.

Having invoked the Sisters Nine for the s.p.a.ce of five minutes, she read aloud the result to Helen, who declared herself willing to give testimony, if called upon, to the faithful rendering (save and except the rhymes) of the financial doc.u.ment to which they had just listened.

Sixpence a week paid by each serious pew In Mr. Cartwright's church, makes--one pound two; From Wrexhill workhouse, by a farthing rate Collected by myself, just one pound eight; Crumbs for the Lord, gather'd from door to door Through Hampshire, makes exactly two pound four; From twelve old ladies, offerings from the hive In various sums, amount to three pound five; From our new Sunday school, as the Lord's fee, By pennies from each child, we've shillings three; And last of all, and more deserving praise Than all the sums raised by all other ways, "The desperate Sinner's certain Road to Heaven,"

Sold at the gallows foot,--thirteen pound seven.

"This is a new accomplishment," said Helen, laughing; "and I declare to you, Rosalind, I think it very unnecessary, Roman Catholic-like, and unkind, to perform any more works of supererogation in that fascinating style upon the heart of poor Charles. I am afraid he has had more than is good for him already."

"I do not think the beauty of my verses will at all tend to injure Mr.

Mowbray's peace of mind," replied Rosalind rather coldly. "However, we can watch their effects, you know, and if we see any alarming symptoms coming on we can withdraw them."

Just before they reached the lodge-gates, they perceived Charles on foot before them; and stopping the carriage, Helen made him get in, just to tell them, as she said, how her dear G.o.dmother was, what kind messages she had sent her, and though last, not least, whether any tidings had been heard of the commission.