I could have shouted aloud for joy to have chanced upon so kindred a spirit. "Exactly so," I answered; "my dear boy, you have grasped the idea of what it means to belong to an historic Church: it is the idea of being all part of the one great adventure."
"I know; just like things that have happened to one's own ancestry are so much more thrilling than things which happened to other people's, because they're all in the family, don't you see?"
By this time Blathwayte had apparently succeeded in convincing Annabel that the sun could not put a fire out—or else Annabel had succeeded in convincing him that a fire could put the sun out—I have never yet discovered which; but any way the argument had arrived at a satisfactory conclusion, and the combatants came into the garden together in perfect amity, whereupon Annabel carried off Frank to show him the unworthy forget-me-nots, and consult him as to her dealings with them, whilst Arthur discussed with me the course of proceedings of the coming Easter vestry. Some men have greatness thrust upon them, and the greatness of being rector's warden of Restham parish had been thrust upon me by Blathwayte some years previously.
Thus began my friendship with Frank Wildacre—a friendship which was destined to bring sorrow as well as joy into my life. Do I wish that I had never known him, and so had escaped all the pain that he was foredoomed to cause me? I cannot say. Life would doubtless have been far easier for me had he never crossed my path. But on the other hand he was part of the great adventure on which I embarked when I forsook my backwater, and I still feel for him—after all that has happened—that sense of comradeship which the sharing of an adventure always leaves behind it after the battles and the bitterness are over and done with.
I think that is the reason why—as one grows older—one feels an interest in people one knew when one was young, even if one felt no interest in them at the time. They were part of the great adventure of one's youth.
CHAPTER IV
FAY
The intimacy between Frank Wildacre and myself developed apace. We discussed everything from Shakespeare to the musical glasses (whatever that may mean), and found ourselves wonderfully agreed on most points. On the few points where we did not see eye to eye, our differences were as pleasant as our agreements, for Frank loved argument for argument's sake, and never came within a mile of losing his temper. In my humble opinion people who lose their tempers over arguments are as tiresome as people who lose their tempers over games, and both should respectively be talked to and played with at the expense of the State rather than of Society.
Frank not only firmly established himself in my affections: he made equally secure resting-places in the affections of Annabel and Arthur, and even of Ponty. But—so weak was I—it flattered my vanity to perceive that in his eyes I found the most favour of the four. It was so delightful to feel myself in touch with youth, and to know that youth was not altogether out of touch with me. The angel of youth stirred the pool of my backwater, and rippled the stagnant surface with the breath of healing.
"You seem to have taken to Frank," Annabel remarked. "I am glad, as it will be so nice for him to have a friend like you."