“I am so glad to have this chance of speaking to you,” she began rather nervously. “I wanted particularly to ask your advice.”
Mr. Blackthorne, being human and young, was not unnaturally flattered by this remark. True, he was becoming well accustomed to this sort of thing, since the ladies of Muddleton were far more fond of seeking advice from the young and good-looking curate than from the elderly and experienced rector. They said it was because Mr. Blackthorne was so much more sympathetic, and understood the difficulties of the day so much better; but I think they unconsciously deceived themselves, for the rector was one of a thousand, and the curate, though he had in him the makings of a fine man, was as yet altogether crude and young.
“Was it about anything in your district?” he asked, devoutly hoping that she was not going to propound some difficult question about the origin of evil, or any other obscure subject. For though he liked the honour of being consulted, he did not always like the trouble it involved, and he remembered with a shudder that Miss Houghton had once asked him his opinion about the ‘Ethical Concept of the Good.’
“It was only that I was so troubled about something Mrs. O’Reilly has just told me,” said Lena Houghton. “You won’t tell any one that I told you?”
“On no account,” said the curate, warmly.
“Well, you know Mr. Zaluski, and how the Morleys have taken him up?”
“Every one has taken him up,” said the curate, with the least little touch of resentment in his tone. “I knew that the Morleys were his special friends; I imagine that he admires Miss Morley.”
“Yes, every one thinks they are either engaged or on the brink of it. And oh, Mr. Blackthorne, can’t you or somebody put a stop to it, for it seems such a dreadful fate for poor Gertrude?”
The curate looked startled.
“Why, I don’t profess to like Mr. Zaluski,” he said. “But I don’t know anything exactly against him.”