Abington Abbey: A Novel

by Archibald Marshall

The Vicar was taking tea at Surley Rectory, after the afternoon service. Old Mr. Cooper, the Rector of Surley, was over eighty, and getting infirm. His daughters took all the responsibility for 'running the parish' off his hands, but ecclesiastical law forbade their taking the services in church, which otherwise they would have been quite willing to do, and he had to call in help from among his colleagues for this purpose, when he was laid up. There was no one more ready to help him than the Vicar of Abington. His own service was in the evening, and he was always willing to take that at Surley in the afternoon.

The living of Surley was a 'plum,' in the gift of the Bishop of the diocese. It was worth, 'gross,' over a thousand a year, and although its emoluments had shrunk to a considerably lower figure, 'net,' its rector was still to be envied as being in possession of a good thing. There was a large house and an ample acreage of glebe, all very pleasantly situated, so that Surley Rectory had the appearance and all the appanages of a respectable-sized squire's house, and was only less in importance in the parish than Surley Park, which it somewhat resembled, though on a smaller scale. Mr. Cooper had held it for close upon forty years, and had done very well out of it. His daughters would be well provided for, and if at any time he chose to retire he would have ample means, with the pension he would get from his successor, to end his days in the same sort of comfort as that in which he had lived there for so long. But he had become a little 'near' in his old age. He would not retire, although he was gradually getting past what little work he had to do himself, and he would not keep a curate. What he ardently wished was that his son, who had come to him late in life, should succeed him as Rector of Surley. Denis would be ready to be ordained in the following Advent, and would come to him as curate. If the old man managed to hang on for a few years longer it was his hope that Denis would so have established himself as the right man to carry on his work that he would be presented to the living. It was a fond hope, little likely of realisation. The Vicar of Abington was accustomed to throw scorn upon it when discussing the old man's ambitions with his wife. "If it were a question of private patronage," he said to her once after returning from Surley, "I don't say that it might not happen. But there would be an outcry if the Bishop were to give one of the best livings in his diocese to a young man who had done nothing to deserve it. Quite justifiably too. Livings like Surley ought to be given to incumbents in the diocese, who have borne the burden and heat of the day in the poorer livings. I'm quite sure the Bishop thinks the same. I was telling him the other day how difficult it would be for a man to live here, and do his work as it ought to be done, unless he had private means behind him; and he said that men who took such livings ought to be rewarded. It's true that there are other livings in the diocese even poorer than this, but I was going through them the other day and I don't think there's a man holds any of them who would be suitable for Surley. There's a position to keep up there, and it could not be done, any more than this can, without private means. I don't suppose Mr. Cooper will last much longer. I fancy he's going a little soft in the head already. This idea that there's any chance of Denis succeeding him seems to indicate it."

The Vicar, however, did nothing to discourage the old man's hopes when he so kindly went over to take his duty for him. Nor did he even throw cold water upon those which the Misses Cooper shared with their father on their brother's behalf, but encouraged them to talk about the future, and showed nothing but sympathy with them in their wishes.

They talked about it now over the tea-table, in the large comfortably furnished drawing-room, which was so much better than the drawing-room at Abington Vicarage, but would look even better than it did now if it had the Abington Vicarage furniture in it, and a little money spent to increase it. Perhaps the carpet, which was handsome, though somewhat faded, and the curtains, which matched it well, might be taken over at a valuation if it should so happen that——

"I think dear father is a little easier," Rhoda was saying, as she poured tea out of an old silver tea-pot into cups that had belonged to her grandmother. "We shan't get him up yet awhile though, or let him out till the weather turns fine again. Denis will be home next Sunday, and he can take the sendees now, with his lay-reader's certificate."

"But I shall be delighted to come over in the afternoons until your father is better," said the Vicar. "It has been a great pleasure to me to help an old friend."

"I'm sure you've been most kind, Mr. Mercer," said Ethel. "Later on, when Denis has to go back for his last term, we may have to call on you again. But it won't be for long now. When Denis is once ordained and settled down here we shall breathe again."

"I believe father will be better altogether when that happens," said Rhoda. "He can't get it out of his head that he may die before Denis is ready to take his place. I don't think there's any danger of it, but naturally, it depresses him. I'm afraid, if anything so dreadful were to happen, one could hardly expect the Bishop to keep the living open for Denis until he's priested. Do you think so, Mr. Mercer?"

"I shouldn't let the old gentleman think it couldn't happen, if I were you," said the Vicar.

"Oh, no; we do all we can to keep up his hopes. If only we could get the Bishop to make him some sort of a promise!"