George Leatrim

by Susanna Moodie

'If the good Doctor had an idol in the world, it was his son George. The lad possessed the most amiable disposition, uniting to the talent and earnestness of the father, the gentle, endearing qualities of his mother. He was handsome, frank, and graceful; the expression of his face so truthful and unaffected, that it created an interest in his favour at first sight. Religious without cant, and clever without pretence, it is no wonder that his father, who was his sole instructor, reposed in the fine lad the utmost confidence, treating him more like an equal than a son, over whom he held the authority of both pastor and parent.

'There was none of the nervous timidity that marked Mrs. Leatrim's intercourse with her husband in the conduct of her son. His love for his stern father was without fear, it almost amounted to worship; and the hope of deserving his esteem was the motive power that influenced his studies, and gave a colouring to every act of his life.

'The father, on his part, regarded his son as superior being—one whom the Lord had called from his birth to be His servant.

'There was another person in the house, whom, next to his wife and son, Doctor Leatrim held in the greatest esteem and veneration, not only on account of his having saved him, when a boy, from drowning, at the imminent peril of his own life, but from his having persuaded him, when a youth, to abandon a career of reckless folly and become a Christian. Ralph Wilson was an old and faithful servant, who had been born in his father's house, and had nursed the Doctor when a little child upon his knees. When his master died, Ralph was confided to the care of his son; and as he had never married, he had grown grey in the Doctor's service, and his love for him and his family was the sole aim and object of his life.

'Everything about the parsonage was entrusted to Ralph's care, and he was consulted on all business matters of importance. All the money transactions of the family went through his hands; and, like most old servants, his sway over the household was despotic. The Doctor gave him his own way in everything, for it saved him a great deal of trouble. His mind was too much engrossed with his ministerial duties to attend to these minor concerns. Ralph was a better business man, he said; he could manage such matters more skilfully and economically than he could.

'If Mrs. Leatrim came to consult him about any domestic arrangements, it was always put a stop to. "Don't trouble me, Mary; go to Ralph, he can advise you what to do." Poor Mrs. Leatrim did not like Ralph as well as her husband did, and would much rather have had the sanction of the legitimate master of the house.

'By his fellow-servants the old grey-headed factotum was almost detested. They could receive orders from the rector, and yield to him cheerful and hearty obedience; but to be under the control of a stingy, canting old hypocrite like Ralph Wilson was hard to be borne. The Bible, that was so often in his mouth, might have taught him 'that no man can serve two masters.' This fact was fully illustrated in their case, for they loved the one and hated the other. There was always trouble in the household—a perpetual changing of domestics, greatly to the annoyance of Mrs. Leatrim; but the matter was one of small importance to the rector, provided he was left in peace to pursue his studies.

'Amiable and gentle as George was, he could not force himself to feel any affection for Ralph Wilson. He treated him with respect for his father's sake, more than from any personal regard, though the old man was servile in his protestations of love and devotion. Some minds are surrounded by a moral and intellectual atmosphere, into which other minds cannot enter without feeling a certain degree of repulsion. Such an insensible but powerfully acknowledged antagonism existed between the faithful old servant and his young master. They did not hate one another—that would have been too strong a term—but Doctor Leatrim often remarked with pain that there was no love lost between them, and often blamed George for the indifference he manifested towards his humble friend.

'You remember the beautiful old church at Westcliff, surrounded by its venerable screen of oaks and elms, and the pretty white parsonage on the other side of the road, facing the principal entrance to the church? The house occupies an elevation some feet above the churchyard. The front windows command a fine view of the sacred edifice, particularly of the carved porch within the iron gates at the entrance, and the massive oak door through which you enter into the body of the building. A person standing at one of these windows at sunset, and looking towards the porch, can see everything there as distinctly as if he were in it. Recollect this circumstance, for it is connected with my story.

'In the porch Dr. Leatrim had placed a box against the wall, on the right-hand side as you went in, for receiving contributions for the poor. It was only unlocked twice a year, at Christmas and Easter, and its contents distributed to the most needy among his parishioners. There were many wealthy people in the neighbourhood, and the poor-box generally yielded a plentiful harvest for the destitute.