Sobs and tears choked further utterance. Ann gave a quick start, when her mistress mentioned the priest's name. She could hardly believe she had heard aright. She was used to almost every caprice from Mrs. Temple, but this last transcended every other. What did it portend?
Mrs. Lang, who was about the size and height of Mrs. Temple, had kindly taken upon herself the care of procuring her sister's mourning. Having submitted to all the troubles and inconveniences, she had, but the day before, sent home several dresses. She would herself have accompanied them, had she not repeatedly been refused admittance to her sister. Juliet's hair being finished, she ordered Ann to undo the small mountain of mourning goods, and select the plainest garment. And, after all, it was with much hesitation, and continued wringing of hands, and moans and lamentations, that she allowed herself to be arrayed in these insignias of her widowhood. She more than once gave up her purpose, only as often to resume it.
CHAPTER XX.
JULIET.
Ann, having completed her mistress' unusual and oft-resisted toilet, received with surprise a message to convey to Father Duffy. She glanced at Mrs. Temple, to discover if she were really in her right mind. Upon this point she could not satisfy herself, for Juliet had buried her flushed face in the fresh handkerchief she had just given her, and added but the words: "go at once!"
Father Duffy, but little past the prime of life, was in the full vigor of energy and usefulness. A worker himself, he infused others with his spirit; droneishness wilted under the scorching rays of his perpetual activity, as weeds wither in the noon-day sun. He had accomplished wonders in his parish, and many another, less efficient than himself, might have supposed nothing more was to be done. Not so, thought Father Duffy. Literally and figuratively hills were to be brought down, and level places to be made smooth.
By precept, and still more by example, he taught his people to bear their burdens heroically, their prosperity with humility, their adversity with pious resignation. He had little patience with indecision, still less with querulousness and complaints. With those of his class, he believed that one's "first fruits" should be given unto God. One's best emotions, fullest love, highest loyalty, precious treasure. He had no faith in the piety of him, who, living in a costly dwelling, proposed to worship God in a habitation mean and contemptible; nor in that of her, who, clad in a thousand-dollar shawl, would drop a five-cent upon the plate of charity.
He was as quick to perceive, as was his will to act, or his hand to do. He saw at once through all sham and artifice. He could be almost said to perceive what was passing through one's mind, so quick was his discernment, so penetrating his thought. He might have been a Jesuit, nor fallen a whit behind the most polished and profound of that marvellous society of men.