"To the heaven, I hope, that our merciful God has provided for us," he answered, meeting the query solemnly and with some emotion. "Some of those dearer to me than life have gone on thither to wait for me."
At which Miss Blake drew up her pious head, and intimated that she feared it might be another kind of place, unless he should mend his manners. And Sir Karl closed the interview, leaving her to understand that she had received her congé.
The circumstance to which he alluded was this. A day or two before, some prying boys, comrades of Tom Pepp's, were about St. Jerome's as usual. For, ever since its establishment, the place had been quite a point of attraction to these young reptiles; and keep off they would not. On the morning in question, hovering around the vestry window and the walls generally, a slight inlet of view was discovered, in consequence of the blinds being accidentally drawn somewhat aside. Of course as many eyes were applied to the chink as could find space; and they had the pleasure of seeing the parson steal a kiss or two from the blushing cheek of Miss Jemima Moore. Rare nuts for the boys to crack! Before the day had closed, it was being talked of in Foxwood, and reached the ears of Miss Diana. She handed the case over to the doctor.
Down he went to St. Jerome's on the following morning, and caught Mr. Cattacomb alone in the vestry, just getting into his sheep-skin. Mr. Moore wasted no time in circumlocution or superfluous greeting.
"You were seen to kiss my daughter, yesterday, young man."
To be pounced upon in this unprepared manner is enough to try the nerves of almost any hero; what must it have been then for a modest young clergyman, with a character for holiness, like Guy Cattacomb? He stammered and stuttered, and blushed to the very roots of his scanty hair. The tippet itself turned of a rosy hue.
"No equivocation, sir. Do you acknowledge it, or do you not?"
Gathering up his scared wits, and a modicum of courage, in the best way he could, the Reverend Guy virtually acknowledged it to be true. He added that he and Miss Jemima were seriously attached to each other; that he hoped sometime to win her for his wife; and that a sense of his utter want of means had alone prevented his speaking to the doctor.
"Now, look here," said the surgeon, after a pause of consideration, perceiving from the young man's earnest manner that this was the actual state of the case, "I say No to you at present. It lies with yourself whether I ever say yes. If you and she care for one another, I should be the last to stand in your way, once you have proved yourself worthy of her. Get rid of all the rubbish that's filling up your foolish brain;"--and he gave his hand a sweep around--"become a faithful, honest clergyman of the Church of England, serving your Master to the best of your power; and then you may ask for her. A daughter of mine shall never tie herself to a vain fop. No; though I had to banish her to the wilds of Kamschatka."
"I'll do my best, sir, to become what you will approve of," returned the parson humbly, "if you will only give me hope of Miss Jemima."