“But that’s everything,” said William, with a hopeless shake of his head.
“What’s everything? I can’t see. I don’t comprehend you. Of course there’s a pleasure in crossing and thwarting me. But of let or hindrance to your entering the Church, there is and can be none, except your secret resolution to lead a wicked life.”
“I’m not worse than other fellows. I’m better, I believe, than many who do get ordained; but I do assure you, I have thought of it before now, often, and it is quite out of the question.”
“You won’t?” said Aunt Dinah, aghast, in a low tone, and she gaped at him with flashing eyes, her gold spectacles shut up, and tightly grasped like a weapon in her hand. He had never seen her, or anyone, look so pallid. And after a pause, she said slowly, in a very low tone—
“Once more, William—yes or no.”
“My dear aunt, forgive me; don’t be vexed, but I must say no,” moaned poor William Maubray thus sorely pressed.
Aunt Dinah Perfect looked at him in silence; the same white, bright stare. William was afraid that she was on the point of having a fit. Who could have imagined the discussion of his profession so convulsive and frightful an ordeal?
