CHAPTER XIII.—AN ‘ELEGANT EXTRACT’ FROM BLAIR’s SERMONS.
An unfortunate necessity existing to compress this our veracious history of “the Fortunes of the Colville Family” within the limits of one small volume, a great many incidents on which we would gladly expatiate can merely be sketched in outline, while we must leave the reader’s imagination to till in the details.
Amongst these “fancy portraits” must be included the pretty face of our little heroine, characterised by the look of astonishment with which she recognised, in her new spiritual pastor, the handsome hero of the footpad adventure, together with the becoming blush consequent upon the discovery.
Another leaf of the sketch-book must be devoted to Percy and Hugh’s first return for the holidays, and their delight in renewing their acquaintance with their kind friend and protector at Tickletown, together with the consequent intimacy which ensued between the cottage and the rectory.
The new incumbent soon won “golden opinions” from rich and poor. Sir Thomas Crawley, who had wriggled himself into the new ministry, and obtained the appointment of envoy to the court of one of the German potentates—a position which he hoped would secure for him the baronetcy as a retiring pension—had taken up a superstitious notion that his success was a reward for the good action of appointing Ernest Carrington to the living of Ashburn; and in order still to propitiate the tickle goddess, he continued to heap favours upon his protégé, till worthy Mr. Selby, unaccustomed to such freaks of benevolence on the part of his patron, began to fear the air of Germany had produced some strange effect upon Sir Thomas’s brain.
Mr. Slowkopf, too, had gradually arrived at the conviction that Mr. Carrington was “a most praiseworthy and remarkable young man,” and, once assured that he had no lingering affection for modern Teutonic heresies, he yielded himself to the-fascinations of his rector’s manner and address, and became one-of the most devoted of his admirers.
Faithful to his pledge, Ernest exacted every farthing of the dilapidations to which he had a legal claim; but then he took-at a valuation Mrs. Colville’s furniture and live stock (comprising Samson the pony, an orthodox and superannuated cow, some fine old Protestant cocks and hens, the annual pig, and the perennial yard-dog, which latter individual always barked at the wrong time, would go to church, and howl at the singing-psalms, whenever he could get loose, and cost rather more to feed than did his new master), and, trusting to the widow’s ignorance of business matters, contrived to pay a sum for these conveniences which made the dilapidations fall very lightly upon her pocket.
Whether Mrs. Colville was more clear-sighted than he-expected, or whether his kind interference to protect Hugh from punishment, of which she heard an account from Percy, had won her heart, certain it is that the dislike with which the widow was prepared to view her lost husband’s successor, soon changed to an almost maternal regard for the young man who so well performed the duties which Mr. Colville’s death had left unfulfilled. The only person who appeared insensible to the merits of this general favourite, was the capricious little Rosebud; but she, very early in the session, seceded to the opposition benches, and constituted in her own pretty person a formidable minority of one.
Nearly two years had elapsed since our tale began, and Percy and Hugh were again at home for their Christmas holidays. The party, consisting of Mrs. Colville and Emily, the two boys, their cousin Wilfred—now promoted to tail coats and a stool in the paternal counting-house—and the rector and curate, who, having happened to look in, had been asked to stay to tea, were gathered round the fire in the snug little drawingroom in the cottage. There had been a pause in the conversation, of which Mr. Slowkopf availed himself to address the Rosebud.
“It is a singular and remarkable fact, Miss Emily,” he-began in his usual deliberate manner: “it is a most singular and remarkable fact, that, intimate as I have long had the-privilege of being in this family, I never, until this morning when Master Hugh obligingly gave me an account of the transaction, was aware of your having been alarmed by a footpad, And providentially rescued by the benevolent interference of our excellent rector here and as he spoke he indicated Ernest by a flap of his larboard fin, with about as much grace as a seal might have displayed under similar circumstances.