‘O Lord!’ cried the poor Curate again. A groan burst from him in spite of himself. It was as if she had asked him if the change was great from the top of an Alpine peak to the bottom of a crevasse. ‘I hope you’ll excuse me,’ he said, with a burning blush, turning to Mrs. Anderson, and wiping the moisture from his forehead. ‘It was such an awfully rapid change for me; I have not had time to get used to it. I come out with words I ought not to use, and feel inclined to do ever so many things I oughtn’t to do—I know I oughtn’t; but then use, you know, is second nature, and I have not had time to get out of it. If you knew how awfully sorry I was——’
‘There is nothing to be awfully sorry about,’ said Mrs. Anderson, with a smile. But she changed the conversation, and she was rather severe upon her guest when he went away. ‘It is clear that such a young man has no business in the Church,’ she said, with a sharpness quite unusual to her. ‘How can he ever be a good clergyman, when his heart is so little in it? I do not approve of that sort of thing at all.’
‘But, auntie, perhaps he did not want to go into the Church,’ said Kate; and she felt more and more certain that it was not the thing for Bertie Hardwick, and that he never would take such a step, except in defiance of her valuable advice.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Circumstances after this threw Mr. Sugden a great deal in their way. He lived in a superior sort of cottage in the village, a cottage which had once been the village doctor’s, and had been given up by him only when he built that house on the Undercliff, which still shone so white and new among its half-grown trees. It must be understood that it was the Shanklin of the past of which we speak—not the little semi-urban place with lines of new villas, which now bears that name. The mistress of the house was the dressmaker of the district as well, and much became known about her lodger by her means. She was a person who had seen better days, and who had taken up dressmaking at first only for her own amusement, she informed her customers, and consequently she had very high manners, and a great deal of gentility, and frightened her humble neighbours. Her house had two stories, and was very respectable. It could not help having a great tree of jessamine all over one side, and a honeysuckle clinging about the porch, for such decorations are inevitable in the Isle of Wight; but still there were no more flowers than were absolutely necessary, and that of itself was a distinction. The upper floor was Mr. Sugden’s. He had two windows in his sitting-room, and one in his bedroom, which commanded the street and all that was going on there; and it was the opinion of the Rector’s wife that no man could desire more cheerful rooms. He saw everybody who went or came from the Rectory. He could moralise as much as he pleased upon the sad numbers who frequented the ‘Red Lion.’ He could see the wheelwright’s shop, and the smithy, and I don’t know how many more besides. From the same window he could even catch a glimpse of the rare tourists or passing travellers who came to see the Chine. And what more would the young man have?
Miss Richardson, the dressmaker, had many little jobs to do for Kate. Sometimes she took it into her head to have a dress made of more rapidly than Maryanne’s leisurely fingers could do it; sometimes she saw a fashion-book in Miss Richardson’s window to which she took a sudden fancy; so that there was a great deal of intercourse kept up between the dressmaker’s house and the Cottage. This did not mean that Kate was much addicted to dress, or extravagant in that point; but she was fanciful and fond of changes—and Maryanne, having very little to do, became capable of doing less and less every day. Old Francesca made all Mrs. Anderson’s gowns and most of Ombra’s, besides her other work; but Maryanne, a free-born Briton, was not to be bound to any such slavery. And thus it happened that Miss Richardson went often to the Cottage. She wore what was then called a cottage-bonnet, surrounding, with a border of clean quilted net, her prim but pleasant face, and a black merino dress with white collar and cuffs; she looked, in short, very much as a novice Sister would look now; but England was very Protestant at that moment, and there were no Sisters in Miss Richardson’s day.
‘My young gentleman is getting a little better used to things, thank you, ma’am,’ said Miss Richardson. ‘Since he has been a little more taken out of an evening, you and other ladies inviting him to tea, you can’t think what a load is lifted off my mind. The way he used to walk about at first, crushing over my head till I thought the house would come down! They all feel it a bit, ma’am, do my gentlemen. The last one was a sensible man, and fond of reading, but they ain’t all fond of reading—more’s the pity! I’ve been out in the world myself, and I know how cold it strikes coming right into the country like this.’
‘But he has his parish work,’ said Mrs. Anderson, with a little severity.
‘That is what Mrs. Eldridge says; but, bless you, what’s his parish work to a young gentleman like that, fresh from college? He don’t know what to say to the folks—he don’t know what to do with them. Bless your heart,’ said Miss Richardson, warming into excitement, ‘what should he know about a poor woman’s troubles with her family—or a man’s, either, for that part? He just puts his hand in his pocket; that’s all he does. “I’m sure I’m very sorry for you, and here’s half-a-crown,” he says. It’s natural. I’d have done it myself when I was as young, before I knew the world, if I’d had the halfcrown; and he won’t have it long, if he goes on like this.’