An English Squire - Christabel R. Coleridge

“I don’t think that marriage will loosen the tie.”

“No; and he is much too unselfish really to regret it. Then all his village boys bring him pets; he says everything makes a link from a horse to a hedgehog. And my curates and the Ashrigg ones run after him, and think it a privilege to take a service for him; and he has done one rather feather-pated fellow, I know, a world of good.”

“That I can believe.”

“Yes; for, after all, Mr Stanforth, it is not his being a Lester of Oakby, nor a man of means, nor his wonderful tact, nor even his great charm of manner in itself that counterbalances his weak health and frequent absences, or makes a life spent among rather uncongenial elements sufficient to him. It is that he has the root of the matter in him as very few have. What he does and says may be less in quantity, but it is infinitely above in quality the ordinary work of his profession. He looks deep and he looks high, and men feel it. He has come through much tribulation, and—well, Mr Stanforth, the dragon slayers have their reward.”

“Yes, one must touch a high note in thinking of him.”

“So high, that one fears ‘to mar by earthly praise,’ one who I verily believe is as true a saint, as full of love and zeal.—Well, being so, as I truly think, he has what some holy souls have lacked, the gift of a gracious manner and a most sympathetic nature; and if a few more years and a little more experience could be granted to him, I believe he will have a great spiritual influence, if not wide, deep. Any way he will leave in one place the memory of a pure and holy life, and will lead others to follow the Master he loves so well.”

The End.