Mr. Tracy drew his chair closer to the sofa on which she was seated: it was only a mechanical movement on his part—the movement of one who draws nearer as the conversation becomes more confidential.
"But why should I intrude my sorrows upon you?" suddenly exclaimed Cecilia. "And yet if it be not to the minister of religion to whom we poor creatures must unburden our woes, where else can we seek for consolation? from what other source can we hope to receive lessons of resignation and patience?"
"True," said the rector. "And that has often appeared to me the best and redeeming feature in the Roman Catholic world, where the individual places reliance upon his priest, and looks to him for spiritual support and aid."
"Ah! would that our creed permitted us the same privilege!" said Lady Cecilia, with great apparent enthusiasm.
"I know of no rule nor law which forbids the exercise of such a privilege," said Reginald; "unless, indeed, usage and custom be predominant, and will admit of no exceptions."
"For my part, I despise such customs and usages, when they tend to the exclusion of those delightful outpourings of confidence which the individual pants to breathe into the ears of the pastor in whom implicit faith can be placed. In how many cases could the good clergyman advise his parishioners, to the maintenance of their domestic comfort? how many heart-burnings in families would not such a minister be enabled to soothe? Oh! sir, I feel that your eloquence could teach me how to bear, unrepiningly, and even cheerfully, all the sorrows of my own domestic hearth!"
"Then look upon me as a friend, my dear Lady Cecilia," said the clergyman, drawing his chair a little closer still: "look upon me as a friend; and happy indeed shall I be if my humble agency or advice can contribute to smooth the path of life for even only one individual!"
"Mr. Tracy, I accept your preferred friendship—I accept it as sincerely as it is offered," exclaimed Lady Cecilia; and she extended her hand towards him.
He took it. It was soft and warm, and it gently pressed his. He returned the pressure:—was it not the token, the pledge of friendship? He thought so—and he meant no harm.
But again did the contact of that soft and warm hand awake within his breast a flame till then unknown; and his cheeks flushed, and his eyes met those of the fair—the fascinating creature, who craved his friendship!