At this speech of the young lady there came into the mind of Mr Darnley a suspicion that the jealousy expressed in his son’s letter was not altogether unfounded. Not that he could have supposed that Penelope Primrose should deliberately prefer a lover like Lord Spoonbill to a young man of sense and good conduct like Mr Robert Darnley; but he was well aware of the fascinations of rank and the allurements of fashionable splendour, and he also knew that it was very possible for worthless and ignorant men, by means of the mockery and mummery of conventional politeness, to render themselves not only not disagreeable, but absolutely engaging and interesting to the young and unpractised. He recollected the very handsome manner in which Penelope had spoken of Lord Spoonbill, and he also bethought himself of the unusual event of the heir of Smatterton honoring the party of Mrs Greendale with his company. Then there came to his remembrance that, during the whole, or nearly the whole evening, Penelope was engaged at the pianoforte, and that she joined Lord Spoonbill in several duets: and there was also a recollection that his lordship, as soon as he entered the room at the rectory, took a seat on a sofa by the side of Miss Primrose, and directed his conversation for awhile almost exclusively to her. Mr Darnley, having compared all these circumstances, began to wonder at himself that he should ever have been so dull as not to observe that the affections of Penelope Primrose belonged more to Lord Spoonbill than to Robert Darnley.
Having made this discovery, and having silently reproached himself for his stupidity that he had not made it before, he did not hint the least word of his suspicion to Miss Primrose; but simply abstained from farther urging the matter about her residence at Neverden. Mr Darnley was too proud a man to stoop to any expostulations or reproofs, or to show anything like resentment upon the occasion. For he did not consider that Penelope had inflicted an injury on his family, but had merely declined a proffered honor.
He continued therefore his conversation upon other topics connected with the doctor’s decease, and, leaving a message of sympathy for Mrs Greendale, politely, rather more politely than usual, took his leave of Penelope. She observed indeed a change in his manner, but ascribed it to the unusually serious impression produced on his mind by the loss of a friend and acquaintance.
From the rectory Mr Darnley proceeded to the castle, to make a call of homage on the Earl of Smatterton. His lordship received the homage graciously, and said, as was usual with him on all such occasions, “Mr Darnley, I beg you will be seated.”
Mr Darnley accordingly took a seat, and Lord Smatterton accordingly began to speak forth his own praises of his own most mighty condescension and benevolence.
“You have been at the rectory this morning, Mr Darnley? It was very proper and suitable that your’s should be the first visit to the house of mourning. You found the poor woman well, I hope; that is, as well as may be under present circumstances?”
Mr Darnley informed his lordship of the particulars of his visit to the rectory, not forgetting to mention his own offer to give an asylum to the doctor’s niece.
“Mr Darnley,” replied his lordship, “I very much approve of your liberality. I can assure you that I shall take care that neither the widow nor the niece shall be destitute. I have always entertained a very high opinion of Dr Greendale. He was truly an excellent man. As soon as I heard of his illness I sent for my own physician to attend him, and had it not been so very late in the evening I should have gone down to see him myself. And indeed, notwithstanding it was so late, I certainly should have gone had I been aware of the danger in which he was. However I did everything in my power, and I shall also have an eye to the well-being of those who are by his death left destitute; for I think I have understood that the doctor had no property of any consideration independently of his living. But pray, Mr Darnley, what think you of the propriety of giving to the world a volume or two of the doctor’s sermons? They contain much good sense and sound doctrine. They are not indeed so sublime as Irving’s, or so beautiful as Alison’s, nor was it necessary that they should be; for the common people cannot understand the sublime and beautiful. What think you, I say, Mr Darnley, of the propriety and eligibility of publishing some of Dr Greendale’s sermons?”
“With all due deference to your lordship’s superior judgment in such matters, I am humbly of opinion,” replied Mr Darnley, “that good sense and sound doctrine are no great recommendation of sermons, at least they do not ensure popularity so effectually as sublimity and beauty. But I believe, my lord, that Dr Greendale was engaged on a very important controversial work. Now I have heard that controversial theology has a much better sale than practical divinity, and that sermons hardly ever go off, unless there be some peculiar interest attached to the person who wrote them, or to the circumstances under which they were preached. If, therefore, your lordship is disposed to assist in the publication of any of the late doctor’s writings, I should humbly apprehend that his great controversial treatise would be most profitable to his widow, and bring more fame to his memory.”
“That may be very true, Mr Darnley, but I do not like controversy; it unsettles people’s minds. I never knew any good come of it. But while there are sectarians there must, to be sure, be refutations of their errors, and the best way to oppose sectarianism is by means of argument; for I am a decided advocate for religious liberty, only I do not like to have the minds of the common people disturbed and unsettled. These matters, Mr Darnley, I shall leave to you as a friend of the late doctor; and if you are disposed to publish any of his writings, they cannot come out under better auspices. At all events I shall subscribe for a certain number of copies.”