As she spoke, Mrs. Colville placed the note in her daughter’s-hands. It ran thus:—
“Dear Sir,—I have at length found a suitable person on whom to bestow the living of Ashburn. The new incumbent will read himself in on Sunday next. I presume, from the length of time which has elapsed since the late rector’s decease, that his family have quitted the parsonage. Should this not be the case, will you apprise Mrs. Colville of my desire that she should do so with as little loss of time as possible. The gentleman to whom I have given the preferment, holds most strongly the same views as myself, as to the necessity of guarding against the deterioration of Church property, and has, at my suggestion, written to Mrs. Colville’s solicitor, to announce his intention of claiming, to the utmost farthing, the sum due for dilapidations; which debt I depend upon you to see liquidated. You will oblige me by doing everything in your power to facilitate all arrangements the new rector may wish to make. I leave Ashburn early to-morrow for London; therefore shall be glad to see you this evening, when I can explain my intentions more fully.
“I remain, dear sir,
“Yours, &c.,
“Thomas Crawley, K.C.B.”
“What a cruel, heartless letter!” exclaimed Emily; “and this horrible new rector appears to be as unfeeling as his patron, but of course Sir Thomas lias picked out some dreadful old creature like himself; he had better have given the living to dear, tiresome Mr. Slowkopf than to this unpleasant man. But mamma, dearest, what is to become of us?”
“Mr. Selby advises my taking the cottage on the common,” was the reply: “it will just hold us and the boys, and I do not wish to quit this neighbourhood, at least till Percy is old enough to leave school.”
“Well, the plan has its advantages; it would break my heart to leave dear Caroline, certainly,” rejoined the Rosebud, musing; “the worst feature in the case is this dreadful new rector—I’ve taken a thorough aversion to him already—it is so unpleasant to dislike one’s clergyman! I know he will be horrible, I’ve a presentiment about him, and my presentiments always come true.”
And so the Rosebud chatted on, partly to make up for her long silence, and partly to divert her mother from the sad thoughts which she could see were still depressing her, till Sarah coming to lay the cloth for their frugal meal, she tripped off to get ready for dinner, quite forgetting a certain portrait she had sketched; and Mrs. Colville, being of a neat and orderly disposition, perceiving a stray volume of Blair’s Sermons lying about, put it, and all it contained, away in its proper place in the book-shelves.
Saturday came, and with it the new rector; he was to stay at Mr. Selby’s till the rectory was ready for him. Despite her prejudices and presentiments, the Rosebud was decidedly curious to see him, and actually made a pretence to gather some flowers for the drawing-room (although they were to leave on Monday), in hopes that, hidden behind the great laurel, she might catch a glimpse of him in the act of arriving, Caroline having told her by what train he was to travel. But unfortunately, after waiting a quarter of an hour, she had just gone into the house for the garden-scissors, when the railway fly drove past, and her utmost endeavours only enabled her to catch the retreating outline of—a black leather portmanteau. Before she went in, however, Mr. Slowkopf, who in his heavy way was always extremely gallant towards the Rosebud, made his appearance, clad in his best suit of black (which was inferior to any other clergyman’s worst), on his way to dine chez Selby, and be introduced to his new rector; and hearing from the young lady (who looked upon him in the light of a half-childish grandpapa, or thereabouts) that she wished to learn something of the appearance, manners, habits, customs, zoology, pathology, ethnology, and general statistics, of the illustrious stranger, he promised to look in for five minutes on his way home (being Saturday night, he should come away very early), and report progress.