CHAPTER VII.
On the following morning the news of Dr Greendale’s sudden death reached the neighbouring village of Neverden. Mr Darnley was deeply concerned at the intelligence, and prepared to pay an immediate visit to the afflicted widow to offer such consolation and assistance as circumstances might require. On his way from home he went through Neverden park, and called at the hall to acquaint his patron baronet of the dismal intelligence just received. Sir George met Mr Darnley at the door of the house, and thus the rector was saved the trouble of alighting. Another trouble was also saved him, namely, that of communicating the news to the baronet: for as soon as the worshipful magistrate saw Mr Darnley, he bawled out at the top of his voice:
“Good morning, Darnley, good morning. Bad news from Smatterton; poor Greendale’s dead. What will become of the poor widow and his pretty niece? Very sudden indeed. I always thought he would go off so. Will you alight? I suppose you are going over to Smatterton. Do you know who is to have the living? It is a pretty good thing, I believe.”
This was a mode of address not at all in unison with the feelings of Mr Darnley, though quite in keeping with the character and habits of Sir George Aimwell. Not that Sir George was by any means destitute of feeling. It is very likely he might have been as much concerned at the loss, as others who might express themselves more pathetically; but, as the proverbial expression has it, it was his way. This expression is an apology for anything, and for everything, and more especially for all breaches of decorum and violations of propriety. It is quite enough to say, “he means no harm, it is his way.” It was a way however which Mr Darnley did not approve and dared not rebuke; for he had so high a respect for rank, as one of the glorious blessings of our constitution, that he could never violate its sacredness by making it the subject of reproof, otherwise than by indirect and general hints. Mr Darnley was a strict, but not a sturdy moralist. To the questions of Sir George he returned such answers as he was able to give, and, bowing politely, was about to continue his ride, when the baronet called out to him again:
“Well, but I am sorry for the doctor, poor fellow. I was going to send him some game this morning, though we had but a bad day’s sport yesterday. I shall send you a brace or two of birds, Darnley.”
Mr Darnley made his acknowledgments for the baronet’s liberality, and pursued his journey, meditating on the various subjects and thoughts which such events as these usually excite in such minds as his. When he arrived at Smatterton, at the very entrance of the village he saw symptoms of a general calamity. The old men were standing in little groups, and looking serious, and talking with great earnestness on the subject of their loss: and when they saw Mr Darnley ride past they drew aside and made more serious reverence than usual; and, while they uncovered their silvery heads and bowed to the clergyman, there was in their looks an expression which seemed to ask for some more acknowledgment of their homage than the return bend of the head; they seemed to implore him to address them. And, as he was a man of discernment and observation, he stopt his horse and spoke to an old, a very old man, who was leaning on a stick which trembled under his pressure, and said:
“So, my good friend, I am concerned to hear that you have lost your worthy rector.”
“Yes, sir, it is God’s will. I am sure I did not think that I should live to see that day. Please your reverence, it was but yesterday morning that I was speaking to my children about putting me into the ground; and I told them that I should die contented if I thought that they would continue to attend to the good doctor’s instructions. And I thought that I should have that good man to read at my grave. Ah! sir, these are mysteries in providence; here am I spared year after year merely to cumber the ground, while our dear rector is cut off in the midst of his days and usefulness.”
“You are rather advanced in years, I believe; I have not seen you for some time. Have you been unwell?”
“Yes, sir, I am nearly ninety, and at my time of life I cannot expect anything else than illness and infirmity. I have not been out of my doors for many months, but I could not help hobbling out a little way just to hear some particulars about our worthy rector. Alack, sir, I had need give him a good word. He was my best friend, so kind——”
The old man wept audibly; and Mr Darnley, who had been affected by the very aspect of the village as he entered it, felt himself unable to make any reply, and rode on. When he reached the rectory, and enquired for Mrs Greendale, the domestic announced that her mistress was too ill to be seen, but that Miss Primrose would make her appearance immediately. Happy was it for Penelope that there was on the present occasion a division of interests and an opposing set of feelings. Her troubles had come thickly upon her; but the very meeting together of these sorrows tended to soften them, or, what was equivalent to that, to excite and compel her to an unusual exertion of moral fortitude; and the very circumstance of Mrs Greendale’s acute and severe feeling was also the means of exciting and rousing Penelope.
When therefore she met Mr Darnley, it was with great composure and steadiness of countenance, and she was able to narrate, with consistency and intelligibility, the particulars of her uncle’s decease. She mentioned the visit of Lord Spoonbill, and spoke very highly of the great propriety of his behaviour and the manifestation which he gave of good feeling. Mr Darnley was pleased to hear so good an account, and hoped that so solemn and impressive a scene might be instrumental in producing some good effect on the young lord’s conduct. As Penelope was always regarded by the family at Neverden as possessing a steadiness of judgment beyond her years, Mr Darnley, after the ordinary talk on such occasions, ventured to extend his inquiries as to the probable disposition of the widow and Penelope after they should leave the rectory, which must of course be resigned to the doctor’s successor.
The young lady professed herself quite at a loss to know what arrangements might be contemplated by Mrs Greendale; but as to herself she expressed her determination to take, as soon as possible, a situation as governess in a private family, and said that she was sure that the Countess of Smatterton would give every assistance in her power.
Mr Darnley expressed himself somewhat astonished at this decision, under what he called present circumstances. Now here it may be proper and necessary to explain. We have narrated, or at least very strongly intimated, that there subsisted between the niece of the late Dr Greendale and the only son of Mr Darnley an engagement, sanctioned by the parents of the latter. We have also said, that Lord Spoonbill had cast the eyes of affection on Penelope Primrose, and that in order to wean her affections from him to whom she was engaged, he had intercepted more than once letters sent from Mr Robert Darnley to her. We have stated also, that the apparent cessation of the correspondence on the part of the young gentleman had disturbed and distressed the mind of Penelope. Her spirit, however, was above naming or hinting the matter to the parents of her absent friend. We have also informed our readers that, only on the very day of Dr Greendale’s decease, a letter had been intercepted and destroyed by Lord Spoonbill, and that a letter had reached the rectory of Neverden from the young gentleman. In this letter Mr Robert Darnley had apprised his parents and sisters that they might expect him in England in about six weeks after the arrival of that communication: he had also informed them that he had written to Penelope by the same conveyance, informing her of the same fact. He had also, in one part of that letter which he had sent to Neverden, addressed a line or two to his sister Ann, requesting her to observe if there were in Penelope Primrose any symptoms of alienated affection, or any manifest partiality to any other person. This last enquiry was thought merely the effect of that fanciful jealousy which is, in some peculiarly-constructed minds, the effect and concomitant of love: and the general impression at the rectory of Neverden was, that Robert Darnley would be in England in six weeks, and that, as soon as conveniently it could be arranged after his return, he would be married to Penelope. It was therefore with no small share of astonishment that Mr Darnley heard the young lady make such a declaration as that above recorded.
“But, my young friend, why have recourse to such a step as that? It would be much better that you should take up your abode with us at Neverden. Indeed, I must almost insist upon it, if you will not otherwise be induced to comply. Under any other circumstances I should not perhaps recommend such a step, but now that you are so situated that you must soon leave Smatterton, I think you cannot with propriety do otherwise.”
To this language of Mr Darnley Penelope only replied with great composure, indeed almost with apathy: “I must beg, sir, that you will not press that subject. You will, no doubt, be ultimately convinced that I am acting more properly in submitting myself to the direction and advice of Lady Smatterton.”
At this speech of the young lady there came into the mind of Mr Darnley a suspicion that the jealousy expressed in his son’s letter was not altogether unfounded. Not that he could have supposed that Penelope Primrose should deliberately prefer a lover like Lord Spoonbill to a young man of sense and good conduct like Mr Robert Darnley; but he was well aware of the fascinations of rank and the allurements of fashionable splendour, and he also knew that it was very possible for worthless and ignorant men, by means of the mockery and mummery of conventional politeness, to render themselves not only not disagreeable, but absolutely engaging and interesting to the young and unpractised. He recollected the very handsome manner in which Penelope had spoken of Lord Spoonbill, and he also bethought himself of the unusual event of the heir of Smatterton honoring the party of Mrs Greendale with his company. Then there came to his remembrance that, during the whole, or nearly the whole evening, Penelope was engaged at the pianoforte, and that she joined Lord Spoonbill in several duets: and there was also a recollection that his lordship, as soon as he entered the room at the rectory, took a seat on a sofa by the side of Miss Primrose, and directed his conversation for awhile almost exclusively to her. Mr Darnley, having compared all these circumstances, began to wonder at himself that he should ever have been so dull as not to observe that the affections of Penelope Primrose belonged more to Lord Spoonbill than to Robert Darnley.
Having made this discovery, and having silently reproached himself for his stupidity that he had not made it before, he did not hint the least word of his suspicion to Miss Primrose; but simply abstained from farther urging the matter about her residence at Neverden. Mr Darnley was too proud a man to stoop to any expostulations or reproofs, or to show anything like resentment upon the occasion. For he did not consider that Penelope had inflicted an injury on his family, but had merely declined a proffered honor.
He continued therefore his conversation upon other topics connected with the doctor’s decease, and, leaving a message of sympathy for Mrs Greendale, politely, rather more politely than usual, took his leave of Penelope. She observed indeed a change in his manner, but ascribed it to the unusually serious impression produced on his mind by the loss of a friend and acquaintance.
From the rectory Mr Darnley proceeded to the castle, to make a call of homage on the Earl of Smatterton. His lordship received the homage graciously, and said, as was usual with him on all such occasions, “Mr Darnley, I beg you will be seated.”
Mr Darnley accordingly took a seat, and Lord Smatterton accordingly began to speak forth his own praises of his own most mighty condescension and benevolence.
“You have been at the rectory this morning, Mr Darnley? It was very proper and suitable that your’s should be the first visit to the house of mourning. You found the poor woman well, I hope; that is, as well as may be under present circumstances?”
Mr Darnley informed his lordship of the particulars of his visit to the rectory, not forgetting to mention his own offer to give an asylum to the doctor’s niece.
“Mr Darnley,” replied his lordship, “I very much approve of your liberality. I can assure you that I shall take care that neither the widow nor the niece shall be destitute. I have always entertained a very high opinion of Dr Greendale. He was truly an excellent man. As soon as I heard of his illness I sent for my own physician to attend him, and had it not been so very late in the evening I should have gone down to see him myself. And indeed, notwithstanding it was so late, I certainly should have gone had I been aware of the danger in which he was. However I did everything in my power, and I shall also have an eye to the well-being of those who are by his death left destitute; for I think I have understood that the doctor had no property of any consideration independently of his living. But pray, Mr Darnley, what think you of the propriety of giving to the world a volume or two of the doctor’s sermons? They contain much good sense and sound doctrine. They are not indeed so sublime as Irving’s, or so beautiful as Alison’s, nor was it necessary that they should be; for the common people cannot understand the sublime and beautiful. What think you, I say, Mr Darnley, of the propriety and eligibility of publishing some of Dr Greendale’s sermons?”
“With all due deference to your lordship’s superior judgment in such matters, I am humbly of opinion,” replied Mr Darnley, “that good sense and sound doctrine are no great recommendation of sermons, at least they do not ensure popularity so effectually as sublimity and beauty. But I believe, my lord, that Dr Greendale was engaged on a very important controversial work. Now I have heard that controversial theology has a much better sale than practical divinity, and that sermons hardly ever go off, unless there be some peculiar interest attached to the person who wrote them, or to the circumstances under which they were preached. If, therefore, your lordship is disposed to assist in the publication of any of the late doctor’s writings, I should humbly apprehend that his great controversial treatise would be most profitable to his widow, and bring more fame to his memory.”
“That may be very true, Mr Darnley, but I do not like controversy; it unsettles people’s minds. I never knew any good come of it. But while there are sectarians there must, to be sure, be refutations of their errors, and the best way to oppose sectarianism is by means of argument; for I am a decided advocate for religious liberty, only I do not like to have the minds of the common people disturbed and unsettled. These matters, Mr Darnley, I shall leave to you as a friend of the late doctor; and if you are disposed to publish any of his writings, they cannot come out under better auspices. At all events I shall subscribe for a certain number of copies.”
“Your lordship is very generous; and I hope you will not find in the writings of the worthy rector anything that shall tend to unsettle the minds of the people, but rather the reverse. For I understand that the object of the treatise which I have mentioned to your lordship, is to put an end to controversy. I recollect hearing my worthy friend say, that he had answered and refuted every objection that had ever been urged against the established church, and that there was not a single sect which he had not opposed and confuted.”
“Well, well, if the work is of such a comprehensive nature, I think it important that it should be published. It is a great pity, however, that it did not make its appearance during the doctor’s life-time, it might have procured him a bishopric; but really, Mr Darnley, I don’t know how it is, but I have observed that ministers are not sufficiently attentive to men of merit. They give away their preferment merely for the purpose of parliamentary influence. Now, for my part, I never do anything of the kind—I always patronize merit. I gave the living of Smatterton to Dr Greendale, purely on account of his merit. I wish that this consideration weighed more than it does with those whose patronage is more extensive and important than mine.”
Mr Darnley had a better opinion of his majesty’s ministers than the Earl of Smatterton had expressed, and therefore he did not very readily echo the last speech which his lordship made. He took however especial care not to say anything that might impeach his lordship’s judgment and sagacity. The peer and the clergyman parted on very good terms. The first was delighted that he had enjoyed an opportunity of speaking in laudatory terms of his own benevolence and wisdom; and the last was very well satisfied that while he had paid due reverence to rank, he had not compromised his loyalty to his majesty’s ministers, by complimenting at their expense a member of his majesty’s opposition.