"It is a most interesting question, my young friend," replied the vicar mildly; "and you really cannot pay too much attention to it. I am happy to see that it leaves you not, even at the festive board; and I sincerely hope it will finally be settled to your satisfaction. But as yet it is impossible to decide."
"I shall not fail to ride over to hear you preach, excellent Mr. Cartwright!" said a gentleman of the neighbourhood, who, though not hitherto enrolled in the evangelical calendar, was so struck on the present occasion with the hospitable entertainment he received, that he determined to cultivate the acquaintance.
"You do me great honour, sir!" replied the vicar. "If you do, I hope it will be on a day when you can stay supper with us."
"You are excessively kind, my dear sir!" answered the guest; "but as my place is at least ten miles distant from yours, I fear, if you sup in the same style that you dine, it would be somewhat late before I got home."
Mr. Cartwright bowed, dropped his eyes, and said nothing.
"Oh, sir!" said Mr. Hetherington, who, though he had drunk more than any man at table, excepting the cousin Corbold, had as yet in no degree lost his apprehension,—"Oh, sir! you quite mistake. The supper that the excellent Mr. Cartwright means, is to be taken at the table of the Lord!"
"Dear me!" exclaimed the squire, who really meant to be both civil and serious, "I beg pardon, I made a sad blunder indeed!"
"There is nothing sad but sin, Mr. Wilkins!" replied the vicar meekly. "A mistake is no sin. Even I myself have sometimes been mistaken."
"What heavenly-minded humility there is in Mr. Cartwright!" said Mr. Hetherington in a loud whisper to his neighbour: "every day he lives seems to elevate my idea of his character. Is not this claret admirable, Mr. Dickson?"
Just at this moment Chivers the butler entered the room and whispered something in his master's ear.