‘Thank you, dear Robin,’ cried Phœbe, grateful for the consolation; ‘I am glad you do not think I misrepresented.’
‘You are always accurate,’ he answered. ‘If you did anything undesirable, it was representing at all. But that is nothing to the purpose. It is all over now, and thank you for your constant good-will and patience, my dear. There! now then it is an understood thing that her name is never spoken between us.’
Meanwhile, Robert’s proposal was under discussion by the elders. Mr. Parsons had no abstract dread of a wealthy curate, but he hesitated to accept gratuitous services, and distrusted plans formed under the impulse of disappointment or of enthusiasm, since in the event of a change, both parties might be embarrassed. There was danger too of collisions with his family, and Mr. Parsons took counsel with Miss Charlecote, knowing indeed that where her affections were concerned, her opinions must be taken with a qualification, but relying on the good sense formed by rectitude of purpose.
Honor’s affection for Robert Fulmort had always been moderated by Owen’s antagonism; her moderation in superlatives commanded implicit credence, and Mr. Parsons inferred more, instead of less, than she expressed; better able as he was to estimate that manly character, gaining force with growth, and though slow to discern between good and evil, always firm to the duty when it was once perceived, and thus rising with the elevation of the standard. The undemonstrative temper and tardiness in adopting extra habits of religious observance and profession, which had disappointed Honor, struck the clergyman as evidences both of sincerity and evenness of development, proving the sterling reality of what had been attained.
‘Not taking, but trusty,’ judged the vicar.
But the lad was an angry lover. How tantalizing to be offered a fourth curate, with a long purse, only to find St. Wulstan’s serving as an outlet for a lover’s quarrel, and the youth restless and restive ere the end of his diaconate!
‘How savage you are,’ said his wife; ‘as if the parish would be hurt by his help or his presence. If he goes, let him go—some other help will come.’
‘And don’t deprive him of the advantage of a good master,’ said Honor.
‘This wretched cure is not worth flattery,’ he said, smiling.
‘Nay,’ said Mrs. Parsons, ‘how often have I heard you rejoice that you started here.’