“Edith,” he said quietly, “do you know why I came down here?”
Something in his tone rather than his words made her start and flush painfully. She did not raise her eyes or cease her work. Before she could answer, he had taken her hand.
“I came for you, Edith,” he continued passionately. “Listen to me, my darling. Do not answer hastily, if you cannot give me a decided answer. At least let me hope.”
Decidedly yet tremblingly the girl put his hands from her, and half rose from her seat. His words had frozen her to ice again.
“Why did you come here?” she said. “Do you call it manly or kind to persecute me? I tell you I shall never marry.”
As she spoke her eye fell upon the altar-cloth, which she held in her hand: Walter saw the look, and as he was walking back to the inn that night it recurred to his mind again. The altar-cloth! There was the symbol of the thing which had come between them—which was blighting his life and hers. Edith was changing; but she was not utterly changed. He resolved to do the only thing which now remained to be done. He determined to appeal to her spiritual adviser.
All night his mind was filled with this idea; it troubled his sleeping as well as his waking moments, and when he rose in the morning it was the one thing which possessed him. Now, he had never seen the clergyman, but he had pictured him as a middle-aged, benevolent-looking man, perhaps with spectacles; a gentle fanatic in religion, willing, through the very bigotry of his nature, to sacrifice everything for the good of the Church, but still, perhaps, amiable. He might be open to reason, and an appeal made directly to him might be the means of putting an end to all the trouble.
Breakfast over, the young man issued from the inn, and strolled deliberately through the village in the direction of the Vicarage. It was early in the day to make a call, so he walked very slowly, meditating as he went on the nature of his errand; and the course he was about to take, after what had passed between him and his cousin, was, perhaps, a little unwarrantable, and Edith might be inclined to resent it if she knew. But then, he reflected, she need never know. Mr. Santley would surely grant him the favour of keeping the matter a secret; and afterwards, when the shadow of the Church had ceased to darken her life, and she was happy with him in her married home, she would be glad to hear that it was he who had saved her.
These were the kind of rose-coloured visions which filled his brain as he walked on towards the Vicarage, and by the time he had reached the hall door and pulled the bell, he had even converted Mr. Santley into the good fairy of the tale, or rather a sort of Father Christmas, in a surplice, smiling benevolently upon them and pairing their hands. A trim little servant came to the door, and, in answer to his inquiries, informed him that Mr. Santley was not at home. He was expected in immediately, however, if the gentleman would like to wait.. Yes; Walter would wait. So he followed the little maid across the hall, into a somewhat chilly but sufficiently gorgeous room, which was reserved solely for the comfort and convenience of Mr. Santley’s guests. As Walter sank down into an easy-chair, the arms of which seemed to enfold him in a close embrace, and looked about the room, he acknowledged that Mr. Santley at least did not give all his substance to the poor. Here at least there was no appearance of penury, or of sackcloth and ashes; all was comfortable and luxurious in the extreme. He walked about the room; examined the books upon the tables, which were all works of education, elegantly bound; noticed the engravings on the walls—one or two of Raphael’s Madonnas (coloured copies), and an old engraving after Andrea del Sarto. Mr. Santley did not come. He rang the bell, gave the little maid his card, told her he would call again, and left the Vicarage.
This time he walked in the direction of the schoolhouse. He had his sketchbook under his arm, and in it a half-finished sketch of the schoolmistress’s picturesque home. He would fill up his spare time by adding a few touches to the sketch before he returned to the Vicarage.