Vale Leston Rectory,
18th January.MY DEAR STAPLES,
My wife and I feel greatly obliged to you for your good-will and zeal on our behalf, and have not for a moment justified your dread of being thought officious. In other circumstances, I might be tempted to fight the battle; but it is impossible for several reasons. Were we the losers, we should be totally unable to pay the costs, and a load either of debt or obligation would be a burthen we have no right to assume. Moreover, the uncertainty of our position pending the decision would be as mischievous to myself as to the parishioners. It would destroy any fitness to be their Vicar, whether we gained or not. The holding the Rectory is in itself an abuse; and now that the grapes are sour, I am glad not to encounter the question of conscience, and so shall not adopt any means—to my mind doubtful—for bringing it on myself. This being the case, you will see that the idea of alarming Fulbert Underwood falls to the ground. Supposing he were coerced into the compromise, what a pleasing pair—squire and parson—would be the result! No, my kind friend, be content to see things remain as they are. We carry with us the certainty of our good uncle's kindness, and the non-fulfilment of his intentions is clearly providential. I have heard of a promising curacy, where I shall get the training I need after feeling my wilful way as I have done here. My wife, being the expectant heiress and lay-rectoress, shall write to satisfy you that she is not suffering from my coercion.
Yours, most sincerely obliged,
E. F. UNDERWOOD.
And on another sheet followed:—
DEAR MR. STAPLES,
I think my husband is quite right, and that to go to law would only make things much worse. It is very kind in you, but I really do not care about anything so long as I have my husband and children, and can feel that my dear uncle meant all that was kind. Indeed, I really think my husband enjoys the prospect of a new and more active kind of work. He is sure to be happy anywhere, and as long as that is the case, all will be right; and he says that it will be much better for the children not to grow up in luxury.
With many warm thanks,
Yours very truly,
M. W. UNDERWOOD.
'May I copy them?' asked Felix, looking up with his eyes fuller of tears than suited his reserved disposition.
His father's letter, full of his constant brave cheerfulness in self-abnegation, had not overcome him like the few words that brought back the lovely young mamma he now remembered at Vale Leston, but whom he had too soon known only as the patient, over-tasked, drudging mother, and latterly in the faded helpless invalid. How little she had guessed the life that was before her!
Mr. Staples readily supplied him with the materials, adding, 'I will take care you have the letters by-and-by. I value them too much to part with them in my lifetime.' And presently he interrupted Felix's writing by saying, 'I much wished to have seen Mr. and Mrs. Edward Underwood again, but it seemed to me that they were unwilling to keep up a correspondence.'
'They were so busy,' said Felix.
'No doubt; and I thought they might feel a visit an intrusion. Otherwise, I often thought of running down from Town.'
'My father would have been very glad.'
'I did wish to have seen him again—and your mother, almost a child as she was even at that time, with her flock of pretty children. I shall never forget her—the beauty and darling of all the neighbourhood, as she used to be. All we young men used to rave about her long before she was out.' Mr. Staples smiled at some recollection, and added, 'I never spoke to her four times in my life; but I was as bad as any of them—presumptuous as you may think it.'