They hurried after him, and overtook him, with his hand upon a cottage gate.
“Will you come and dine with us, Mr. North? It is a gala night at the hall, and many of your people will be there. They will like to see you, and you will add to our pleasure also.”
“Thank you, Miss Hallam. It will be very pleasant to me. My duty will be finished in half an hour, then I will follow you.”
His face was as happy and as candid as a child’s, as he lifted his hat, and entered the cottage garden. Elizabeth involuntarily watched him. “He seems to tread upon air. I don’t believe he remembers he is still in the body. He looks like a gentleman to-day.”
“He is always a gentleman, Elizabeth. I am told he has about L70 a year. Who but a gentleman could live upon that and look as he does? Ben Craven has double it, but who would call Ben a gentleman?”
“There is a singular thing about the appearance of Methodist preachers, Phyllis; they all look alike. If you see a dozen of them together, the monotony is tiresome. The best of them are only larger specimens of the same type—are related to the others as a crown piece is related to a shilling. You know a Methodist minister as soon as you see him.”
“That is just as it ought to be. They are the Methodist coin, and they bear its image and its superscription. The disciples had evidently the same kind of ‘monotony.’ People who were not Nazarenes ‘took knowledge of them, that they had been with Jesus.’ But if this is a fault, surely the English clergy have it in a remarkable degree. I know an Episcopal clergyman just as soon and just as far as I can see him.”
“Their cloth—”
“O, it is not only their ‘cloth.’ That long surtout, and nicely adjusted white tie, and general smoothness and trimness, is all very distinctive and proper; but I refer quite as much to that peculiar self-containedness of aspect and that air of propriety and polish which surrounds them like an atmosphere.”
“Now we are quits, Phyllis, and I think we had better walk faster. See what large flakes of snow are beginning to fall!”