Our worthy curate was a married man, but he had no family; and that circumstance gave him abundant opportunity to interest himself about the affairs of all the town. Mrs. Denver assisted him greatly in this public and universal sympathy. Mrs. Denver was said to be a very intelligent woman, and had enjoyed that reputation for many years. Her maiden name was Smith—no relation to old Richard Smith; and she had borne that name so long, that she was tired of it, regarding it as Archbishop Tillotson did the Athanasian Creed, wishing that she “was well rid of it.” Many people thought that Mr. Denver married her from a motive of pure good nature, because nobody else was likely to marry her. She was of high family “originally,” as she used to say; being descended from the Simsons of Devonshire, one of whom was knighted by Richard the Third; and she was very particular in stating that her ancestors did not spell the name with p, for that was an innovation, and it was a very inferior family that was called Simpson.
All the gossip of the town and neighbourhood flowed to the parsonage as a centre, and again flowed from it as from a perennial and exhaustless fountain. In justice to the worthy curate it must be stated, that so far as he was concerned, there was nothing of censoriousness blended with his collecting and communicating disposition: he was happy to hear intelligence, and pleased to spread it; but he never pronounced an opinion as to the propriety or impropriety of the matters of which he heard and of which he spoke. It was not exactly so with Mrs. Denver; her candour was not equal to that of her husband: not that she was at all censorious, very far from it; but she could not help, as she said, feeling indignant at the vices and wickednesses which abounded in the world; and she was certainly not to be blamed for what she could not help. Sometimes she would even be angry with her husband on account of the placidity of his temper; and she would even acknowledge that she could have no patience with the abominations of the age. It must be also added, that Mrs. Denver was not quite equal to her husband in the virtue of liberality towards sectarians. She had been brought up as a member of the church established by law, and she could not see how it was possible that any other religion should be true; and for her part, she was fully determined not to countenance any false religion. It was rather unfortunate for the poor woman, that, with the exception of the Martindales, the principal people at Brigland were dissenters; and so there were two or three drawing-rooms from which her orthodoxy would have excluded her, but to which her love of the good things of life attracted her. Mrs. Denver was decidedly loyal: her reverence for majesty was unbounded. She was so grateful to Richard the Third for having knighted one of the Simsons, that she thought she could never say enough in favour of royalty.
Now it came to pass in the progress of events, that while Mr. Martindale and Horatio Markham were in Richard Smith’s cottage, Mrs. Price, the wife of Philip Martindale’s attorney, had gained a piece of intelligence which, as she received it, was imperfect and obscure, but which she hoped and trusted that Mr. and Mrs. Denver might be able to elucidate and complete. She therefore made a very early call at the parsonage, and began by offering an apology for looking in so soon in the day. The apology was most readily accepted: for the good people of the parsonage knew that Mrs. Price would not have called so early had there not been something important to communicate. As soon as she was seated she began:—
“I suppose you have heard, Mrs. Denver, of the sheriffs’ officers being in possession at the Abbey.”
“Sheriffs’ officers in possession at the Abbey! Why, Mrs. Price, what do you mean?”
“Mean, Mrs. Denver! why I mean what I say; there are two sheriffs’ officers now at the Abbey. They were sent in yesterday morning; and old Mr. Martindale saw them there, and asked them what business they had there, and they told him that they were in possession; and the old gentleman asked what was the amount of the claim, and it was such an enormous sum that it was more than he could pay. I don’t know all the particulars, but I heard Oliver talking the matter over to my husband; and Mr. Philip is gone to London in a hired chaise, for they would not let him have his own carriage; and he is gone to get some money of the Jews. He intended to travel all night, that he might get home early this morning, and send the officers away before the old gentleman could know any thing of the matter.”
“Bless me, Mrs. Price, why you astonish me! Who would have thought it? Well, that’s what I always said; I knew it must come to that. You know it was not likely that he could ever support the expense of that great house; and really between ourselves, I never thought that old Mr. Martindale was so very rich as some people said.”
“I don’t know whether the old man is very rich,” replied Mrs. Price; “I am sure the young one is very poor. My husband has advanced money to him which has been owing a very long while; and I cannot see any probability of his getting it again in any reasonable time; and then he cannot even pay the damages in which he was cast in the action of old Smith.”
“Oh, now you talk about old Smith,” interrupted Mrs. Denver, “do you know any thing about that man’s history? for I scarcely ever heard of him before this action took place. Pray where does he live?”
“He lives in the lone cottage in Old Field Lane, I understand. But there is something very odd about that man. I thought perhaps you might know something about him. As for his being a poor man, I don’t believe any such thing. Every body says he has money; and my husband says that he is very sure that Flint would never have undertaken that cause for a poor superannuated labourer; and then Flint told my husband that there was no hurry about the damages. I very much doubt whether the man’s real name is Smith; for that is such a very convenient name for any one to assume.”