The Vicar's People Part 73

"No," he said, "I am sick at heart. We don't see one another often, Trethick. May I walk with you?"

"Oh, if you like," said Geoffrey, as the vicar turned and walked by his side. "I was going over the hill yonder by Horton mine, to let the wind blow some of my bad temper out of me."

"I should like to go with you, Trethick," said the vicar, eagerly.

"Look here, Lee," exclaimed Geoffrey, "I'm a man of the world, and rough usage has made me rough. If you want to talk pious plat.i.tudes to me by rote, please don't, for we should be sure to quarrel. I am horribly unholy this morning."

"But I do not," exclaimed the vicar, earnestly. "I want to talk to you as a man of the world."

"Come on, then," said Geoffrey; "it's a treat to talk to a civilised being now."

He thrust his arm through that of the young vicar, and hurried him on and on up-hill till the latter was breathless. Then he stopped.

"Now then!" said Geoffrey, "here we are, right out on the top, with heaven above and the free air around; now talk to me like a man of the world."

The vicar followed Geoffrey's example, and threw himself on the short, crisp turf, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, and gazing at his companion with a curiously troubled air.

"Now then," said Geoffrey, "man of the world, make a beginning."

The vicar hesitated, and Geoffrey smiled.

"Well, I'll help you," he said. "You want to know why I have not been at church lately?"

"Yes," said the vicar, eagerly catching at the ball thrown to him, "I did want to speak to you about that for one thing."

"Too wicked!" said Geoffrey. "Mind too much taken up with other things."

"Too much bent upon laying up treasure upon earth, Trethick, thinking too little of the treasure in heaven."

"I thought you said that you were going to talk to me like a man of the world," said Geoffrey, sharply.

"Yes, yes--I am," was the hasty reply, for the vicar saw that a few more words in the same strain would send his companion away.

"Go on then. You said you were heart-sick," said Geoffrey. "What's the matter?"

"I am in a great deal of trouble, Trethick," said the vicar, heavily.

"I'm not a man of the world, but you are, and--and--I like you, Trethick, I don't know why, but I wish we were better friends."

"You like me?" said Geoffrey, laughing. "Why, my good sir, you and I are like positive and negative poles; we repel one another."

"But why should we, Trethick? You seem always to exercise a strange power over me. I did not like you at first."

"No," said Geoffrey. "I was too rough and outspoken; too irreligious.

I shocked you."

"Yes, yes. That is true," said the vicar.

"Then you found that I was a rival, and you hated me?"

"No: not hated you," said the vicar, sadly. "I felt that we could never be friends. That was all."

"Look here, Lee," said Trethick; "are you a saint, or a humbug?"

"Certainly not the first," said the vicar, smiling. "I sincerely hope not the second."

"No: I don't believe you are," said Geoffrey, shortly. "Well, sir, the game's up. I've failed in my projects, and I've failed in my love. The way is open. I am no rival now."

"Trethick," said the vicar, earnestly, "can't we be friends?" and he held out his hand.

"Oh, yes, if you like," said Geoffrey, bitterly. "But why should you want to be friends with such a blackguard? There, man, go and have your way. I'm out of the race."

"You are speaking very bitterly, Trethick," said the vicar, sadly.

"You are bitterly disappointed with your failures. So am I. It is as Mr Penwynn said that evening: we have not been able to make our way."

"But you are making your way," said Geoffrey.

"No," replied the vicar, shaking his head, "not at all. I cannot move these people. I try all I can; I have done every thing possible, but they prefer to go to that wretched chapel, and to hear such men as Pengelly. Trethick, I speak to you as a man of the world," he continued, growing each moment more earnest, and his face flushing. "I am in despair; that is why I came to you, whom I know to be disappointed, as I am myself. I cannot get at these people's hearts. I yearn to do good amongst them, but I cannot stir them, while you seem to touch them to the core. If I announced that you would preach to them next week, the place would be thronged; as it is, it is nearly empty.

Why is this?"

"Because I am the sinner, you the saint," said Geoffrey, bitterly.

"There, don't look shocked, man; it is because you are too clever--too scholarly with them; you put on the priest's garment, and with it the priest's mask, and completely hide your nature. Let them know your profession by your ways, sir, and not by your ca.s.sock. I believe you are a good fellow at heart. Your words now prove it; but you have grown so full of belief in form and ceremony that you think them all in all.

Why, Lee," he cried, lighting up, "I could get these people to follow me like dogs."

"Yes," said the vicar, sadly; "but they shun me."

"No," said Geoffrey; "I am boasting. But still I believe I could move them. Look here, Lee, you are in earnest over this?"

"Earnest?" cried the other. "I'd give any thing to win them to my side."

"Then be more of a man, less of a priest. Don't draw such a line of distinction between you. Mix with them more. Never mind the long ca.s.sock and ritualistic hat. Take more interest in their pursuits, and let them feel how much your nature, however polished, is like theirs."

"I will, Trethick. Yes, you are right. I am sure you are right."

"I believe--I hope I am," said Geoffrey.

"I am sure of it," cried the vicar; "and I see now how unsuited much of my teaching has been. But now about yourself, Trethick, let me begin by being more human, and helping you."

"How can you help me?" said Geoffrey, bitterly. "I am a hopeless bankrupt in pocket and morals, so the world says; and I am cut off from all that I looked forward to with happiness. Why don't you be up and doing, man, as I told you?" he cried, with a mocking devil in his eyes; "the way is open--go and win the race."

"I do not understand you," said the vicar, sadly.

"Don't understand? You know you loved Rhoda Penwynn."

"I did love her--very dearly," said the vicar, simply.

"And not now?"