"Do not be so concerned for me. There is no need. Although I have not much replenished the carnal man to-day, yet have I been abundantly refreshed and comforted. I tarried in a small town on the borders of this county at midday, and I found that my ministrations there in the spring season had borne fruit. Many who had been reclaimed from evil courses came about me, and we gave thanks with much uplifting of the heart. And, although I had suffered somewhat from faintness before arriving at that place, yet, no sooner were these chosen persons got about me, and I began to pray and praise, than I felt stronger and more able for exertion than I have many a time felt after a long night's rest and an abundant meal."
Poor Mrs. Thimbleby's mind was divided and "exercised," as she herself would have said, between her reverent faith in Powell's being supported by the supernal powers and her rooted conviction regarding the virtues of a hot posset. Was it for her, a poor, ignorant woman, presumptuously to supplement, as it were, the protection of Providence, and to insist on the saintly preacher's drinking her posset? Yet, on the other hand, arose her own powerful argument, that the Lord might have dispensed with our bodies altogether had it so pleased him; and that therefore, mankind being provided with those appendages, it was but reasonable to conclude they were meant to be taken some care of. At length the widow's mental debatings resulted in a resolution to make the hot posset, and carry it up to the preacher's bedside without consulting him on the subject—"For," said she to herself, "if I persuade him to swallow it out of kindness to me, there'll be no sin in the matter. Or, at least, if there is, it will be my sin, and not his; and that is not of so much consequence."
In this spirit of true feminine devotion she acted, and having coaxed Powell to swallow the cordial mixture—as a mother might coax a sick child—she had the satisfaction of seeing him fall into a deep slumber, he being, in truth, exhausted by fatigue, excitement, and lack of nourishment.
CHAPTER XIV.
Among the first persons to hear of David Powell's return to Whitford, and his intention of preaching there, was Miss Bodkin. As the spectators see more of the play than the actors, so Minnie, from her couch or her lounging-chair, witnessed many a scene in its entirety, which those who performed it were only conscious of in a fragmentary manner. The news of the little town was brought to her through many various channels. Her infirmity seemed to set her in a place apart, and many a one was willing to play the part of Chorus for her behoof, and interpret the drama after his or her own fashion.
Minnie's maid, Jane Gibbs; Mrs. Errington; and Mr. Diamond, had all given her the news about Mr. Powell; and all in different keys, and with such variations of detail as universally attend contemporaneous vivâ voce transmissions.
Jane Gibbs had a strong feeling of respect and gratitude towards the preacher for his having "converted" her brother. And, being herself a member of the Church of England, she looked upon his secession from the main body of the Methodists with great leniency. She dared to say that Mr. Powell would do as much good in Lady Lane as he had done in the Wesleyan Chapel. And seeing that whether you called 'em Wesleyans, or Ranters, or Baptists, or Quakers, or Calvinists, they were all Dissenters, it could not so much matter whether they disagreed among each other or not.
Mrs. Errington, without entering into that question, considered herself peculiarly aggrieved by the circumstance that Powell had come to lodge in the same house with her. "I am doomed, it seems, to be a victim to that man!" said she to Minnie Bodkin. "At Maxfield's house I was frequently disturbed by his hymns and his preachments; and even now, it appears, I am not to escape from him. He absorbs Mrs. Thimbleby's attention to a ludicrous extent. If you will credit the fact, my dear Minnie, only yesterday morning my egg was sent up at breakfast greatly over-boiled; and when I remonstrated with Mrs. Thimbleby on this piece of negligence, what excuse do you suppose she made? She answered that she was very sorry, but she had been getting ready a 'little snack'—that was her expression—for Mr. Powell after his early preaching, and it had slipped her memory that my breakfast-egg was still in the saucepan! I have no doubt the man stuffs and crams himself at her cost. All these dissenting preachers do, my dear."
Whereunto Minnie answered gravely, that it was a great comfort to Church people to reflect that moderation in eating and drinking was entirely confined to the orthodox clergy.