CHAPTER XIV.
REASONING WITHOUT REASON.
One of the most unlucky things, that could befall an unlucky man, in thehour of tribulation, had befallen that slandered Fox; to wit thehelpless condition of the leading spirit, and most active head, in thetroubled parish of Perlycross. Mr. Penniloe was mending slowly; but hisillness had been serious, and the violent chill in a low state of healthhad threatened to cause inflammation of the lungs. To that it would haveled, there can be little doubt, but for the opportune return of Fox, andthe speedy expulsion of Jackson. Now the difficulty was to keep thecurate quiet; and his great anxiety to get to work prolonged thedisability, even as a broken arm in splinters is not likely to dowithout them, while the owner works a pump.
The Doctor caught his patient, on the Friday morning, groping his waythrough the long dark tunnel which underran the rectory, and justemerging, with crafty triumph, into the drive by his own main gate.Thyatira was gone to Jakes the butcher, after locking the front door andcarrying off the key. The parson looked miserably thin and wan, butproud of this successful sortie. He was dressed as if for action in hisSunday clothes, though tottering on his black-varnished stick; while histortoise-shell eyeglass upon its watered ribbon dangled across hisshrunken chest. But suddenly all his scheme collapsed.
"Ah, ah, ah!" he began with his usual exclamation, while his delicateface fell sadly, and his proud simper waned into a nervous smile; "finemorning, Fox; I hope you are quite well--pleasant morning for a walk."
"It may be pleasant," returned the Doctor, trying to look most awful;"but like many other pleasant things it is wrong. Will you do me thehonour to take my arm?"
Fox hooked the baffled parson by the elbow, and gently led him towardshis own front door, guilty-looking, sadly smiling, striving vainly towalk as if he were fit to contest a hurdle-race. But the cup of hisshame was not full yet.
"Oh sir, oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Muggridge, rushing in from the street witha dish of lamb's fry reposing among its parsley. "I never would havebelieved it, sir, if an Angel was to speak the words. To think that hehave come to this!"
"She refers to my moral condition, I fear;" Mr. Penniloe held his headdown, while the key he had thought to elude was used to restore him tosafer durance. "Well perhaps I was wrong; but I only meant to go a veryshort way, I assure you; only as far as the spot where my dear oldfriend is sleeping."
"What a blessing as we caught you, sir!" cried the impulsive Muggridge;while her master looked up in sharp wonder, and the Doctor frowned ather clumsiness.
"Not to the repairs, sir? Oh come, come, come!" Jemmy cut in rapidly,with this attractive subject.
"No, not even to the repairs, or I might even say--the arrest of ruin.Without the generosity of my dear friend, we never should have achievedso much for the glory of--I will not speak proudly--for the doing up ofour old church. Those who should have been foremost--but no doubt theyhad good reason for buttoning up their pockets. Comparatively, I mean,comparatively; for they really did give something. Possibly, all thatthey could afford."
"Or all they thought they couldn't help. It was very hard upon them,sir. But you are getting into a rebellious humour. Sit down by the fire,and allow me to examine you."
"I will carry my rebellion further," said the invalid, after sittingdown. "I know how kind you have been to me, kinder by far than I evercould deserve. And I believe it was the goodness of the Lord thatdelivered me from Jackson. He meant well; but he can not be positivewhether the lungs should be higher up, or deeper down than the liver. Ihave been examined, and examiner as well, at Oxford, and in some publicschools; but the question has never arisen; and I felt myself unable tothrow any light on it. Still it struck me that he ought to know, as aproperly qualified medical man."
"No, sir, no. That is quite a trifle. That should never have lessenedyour confidence in him." Dr. Fox spoke so gravely, that Mr. Penniloe wasangry with his own inside.
"Well, after all, the mind and soul are the parts that we should study.I see that I have wronged poor Jackson, and I will apologise. But what Ihave to say to you is this--even if I am not to take a walk, I must beallowed some communication with people of the parish. I have no ideawhat is going on. I am isolated as if I had the plague, or the choleraof three years ago. Let me see Channing, or Jakes, or Mr. Horner, oreven Robson Adney."
"In a day or two, sir. You are getting stronger fast; and we must notthrow you back. You must have a little patience. Not a service has beenmissed; and you can do no good."
"That may be true," said the parson with a sigh. "Unhappily they alwaystell me that; but it does not absolve me. All my duties are neglectednow. Three pupils, and not a lesson have I heard them. How can that newboy get on without me? A very odd youth, from all that I am told. Hewill require much attention. No, no, it will never do, Fox. I know howkind everybody has been, in doing with only one sermon; and the Lord hasprovided an uncommonly good man. But I feel as if there was somethingwrong. I am sure you are hiding something from me. I am not allowed tosee anybody; and even Fay looks odd sometimes, as if the others werepuzzling her. And the pupils too must have heard of something bad; forpoor little Michael has been forbidden to talk to any of them. What isit? It would hurt me less to know, than to keep on wondering, andprobably imagine it worse than it is. And good or bad for my bodilyhealth, my first duty is not to myself, but to those entrusted to me."
Mr. Penniloe had spoken with more excitement than he often showed whenin his usual health, and the doctor had observed it with some alarm. Buthe had long foreseen that this must come; and it might come in a moreabrupt and dangerous manner, when he was out of reach. So he made uphis mind at once, and spoke without further hesitation.
"Yes, sir, a most disgraceful thing has happened in this parish; and itis better perhaps that you should know it, than be kept in the dark anylonger. But you must not be angry with me, though I have given all theorders which puzzled you. It was not for my own sake, you may be sure;for God only knows how much I have longed for your advice in thismiserable affair. And yet, before I tell you, you must promise to donothing whatever about it, for at least three days. By that time youwill be yourself again, if we can keep you quiet, and if you take thissad blow with your usual strength of mind--and piety."
The parson began to tremble, and the blue lines on his delicate foreheadshone, like little clues of silk. He fingered his open glasses, andbegan to raise them, until it struck him that he might seem rude, if hethus inspected Fox throughout his narrative. A rude act was impossibleto him; so he leaned back in his ancient chair, and simply said--"Bequick, my friend, if you can thus oblige me."
The young man watched him very narrowly, while he told his dreadfultale; and Thyatira in the passage sobbed, and opened hersmelling-bottle, for she had been making urgent signs and piteousappeals from the background to the doctor to postpone this trial. Buther master only clasped his hands, and closed his quivering eyelids.Without a word he heard the whole; though little starts, and twitchinglips, and jerkings of his gaiter'd foot, made manifest that self-controlwas working at high pressure.
"And who has done this inhuman thing?" asked Mr. Penniloe at last; afterhoping that he need not speak, until he felt that he could speak. "Suchthings have been done about Bristol; but never in our county. And mydear friend, my best friend Tom! We dare not limit the mercy of God; forwhat are we? Ah, what are we? But speaking as a frail man should, ifthere is any crime on earth----" He threw his handkerchief over hishead; for what can the holiest man pronounce? And there was nothing thatmoved him more to shame, than even to be called a "holy man."
"The worst of it is," said Dr. Fox, with tears in his eyes, for heloved this man, although so unlike him in his ways of thought; "theworst of it is--or at least from a wretchedly selfish point of view, theworst--that all the neighbourhood has pitched upon the guilty person."
"Who is supposed to have done this horribly wicked thing? Not Gowler?"
"No sir; but somebody nearer home. Somebody well-known in the vil
lage."
"Tell me who it is, my dear fellow. I am sure there is no one here whowould have done it."
"Everybody else is sure there is. And the name of the scoundrelis--James Fox."
"Fox, it is not a time for jokes. If you knew how I feel, you would notjoke."
"I am not joking, sir," said Fox, and his trembling voice confirmed hiswords. "The universal conclusion is, that I am the villain that did it."
"My dear friend, my noble fellow!" The Parson sprang up on his feeblelegs, and took both of Jemmy's strong thick hands in his quiveringpalms, and looked at him; "I am ashamed of my parish; and of myself, asa worthless labourer. And with this crushing lie upon you, you have beentending me, day and night, and shown not a sign of your bitter disdain!"
"I knew that you would acquit me, sir. And what did I care for the restof them? Except one of course--well you know what I mean; and I must nowgive up all hope of that. Now take a little of this strengthening stuff,and rest for a couple of hours."
"I will take the stuff; but I will not rest, until you have told me,upon what grounds this foul accusation has been brought. That I shouldbe in this helpless state, when I ought to go from house to house--trulythe ways of Providence are beyond our poor understanding."
The young man told him in a few hot words, upon what a flimsy tale hisfoes had built this damning charge, and how lightly those who calledthemselves his friends had been ready to receive it. He had had a longinterview with Crang, and had shaken the simple blacksmith's faith inhis own eyes; and that was all. Owing to the sharp frost of the night,there was no possibility of following the track of the spring-cart upthe road, though its course had first been eastward, and in thedirection of the Old Barn. For the same reason, all attempts had failedin the immediate scene of the outrage; and the crisp white frost hadsettled on bruised herbage and heavy footmark.
"There is nothing more to be done in that way;" the Doctor finished witha bitter smile; "their luck was in the right scale, and mine in thewrong one, according to the usual rule. Now what do you advise me to do,dear sir?"
"I am never very quick, as some men are;" Mr. Penniloe replied, withouteven the reproof which he generally administered to those who spoke of"luck." "I am slow in perceiving the right course, when it is a questionof human sagacity. But the Lord will guide this for our good. Allow meto think it over, and to make it a subject of earnest prayer."
Fox was well content with this, though his faith in prayer was limited.But he knew that the clergyman was not of those, who plead so well thatthe answer tallies with their inclinations. For such devoted labourers,when a nice preferment comes in view, lay it before the "Throne ofGrace;" and the heavenly order always is--"Go thou into the fatterVineyard." Mr. Penniloe had not found it thus, when a College living wasoffered to him as a former Fellow, at a time when he and his wife couldscarce succeed in making both ends meet. The benefice being in a part ofWales where the native tongue alone prevailed, his Ministry could beblest to none but the occupants of the rectory. Therefore he did notpray for guidance, but for grace to himself and wife--especially thelatter--to resist this temptation without a murmur. Therein hesucceeded, to the huge delight of the gentleman next upon the roll, andequally ignorant of Welsh, whose only prayer upon the occasionwas--"Thank the Lord, oh my soul!"
In the afternoon, when Fox returned according to arrangement, he foundhis much respected patient looking pale and sad, but tranquil. He hadprayed as only those who are in practice can accomplish it; and hiscountenance showed that mind and heart, as well as soul, were fortified.His counsel to Fox was to withstand, and not to be daunted by the mostinsidious stratagem of the Evil One--whose existence was more personalin those days than it now appears, and therefore met more gallantly--topay no heed to furtive looks, sly whispers, cold avoidance, or evenspiteful insults, but to carry himself as usual, and show an example tothe world of a gentleman and a Christian.
Fox smiled in his sleeve, for his fist was sore with knocking down threelow cads that day; but he knew that the advice was sound, and agreedwith that of Squire Mockham, only it was more pacific, and grounded onlarger principles.
"And now, my dear young friend," the Parson continued very earnestly;"there are two things I have yet to speak of, if you will not think meintrusive. You ought to have some one in the Old Barn to comfort and tocheer you. The evenings are very long and dark, and now I suppose youwill have to spend the greater part of them at home. Even without suchtrouble as yours, a lonely man is apt to become depressed and sometimesbitter. I have heard you speak of your sister, I think--your onlysister, I believe--and if your father could spare her----"
"My father is much stronger, sir. But I could not think of bringingChristie here. Why, it would be wretched for her. And if anybodyinsulted her----"
"Who could insult her, in your own house? She would stay at home mostlyin that very quiet place, and have her own amusements. She would comeacross no one, but old Betty and yourself. It would feel lonely atfirst, no doubt; but a loving sister would not mind that. You would takecare not to vex her by speaking of any of the slights you suffered, oreven referring to the subject at all, whenever it could be avoided. Ifit were only for one week, till you get used to this sad state ofthings, what a difference it would make to you! Especially if she is ofa lively nature. What is her character--at all like yours?"
"Not a bit. She has ten times the pluck that I have. I should like tohear any one dare to say a word against me, before Christie. But it isnot to be thought of, my dear sir. A pretty coward I should be to bringa girl here to protect me!"
"What is her name? Christine, I suppose. A very good name indeed; and Idare say she deserves it." The curate looked at Fox, to have hisinference confirmed; and the young man burst into a hearty laugh--hisfirst for a most unaccustomed length of time.
"Forgive me, sir. I couldn't help it. I was struck with the contrastbetween your idea of a Christian, and Christie's. Though if any onecalled her anything else, he would have a specimen of zeal. For she isof the militant Christian order, girt with the sword of the Spirit. Agreat deal of St. Peter, but not an atom of St. John. Thoroughlyreligious, according to her lights; and always in a flame of generosity.Her contempt for any littleness is something splendid; except when it isfound in any one she loves. She is always endeavouring to 'see herselffrom the outside,' as she expresses it; and yet she is inside all thetime. Without any motive that a man can see, she flares up sometimeslike a rocket, and then she lies rolling in self-abasement. She is asfull as she can be of reasoning; and yet there is not a bit of reason inher. Yet somehow or other, everybody is wonderfully fond of Christie."
"What a valuable addition to this parish! And the very one to keep youup, in this mysterious trial. She would come at once, of course; if sheis as you describe her."
"Come, sir? She would fly--or at least post with four horses. What asensation in Perlycross! But she is not the one to live in a cupboard,and keep silence. She would get up in your pulpit, sir, and flash awayat your Churchwardens. No, I could not think of bringing her into thisturmoil. If I did, it would serve me right enough, never to get out ofit."
"Very well. We shall see," Mr. Penniloe said quietly, having made up hismind, after Fox's description, to write for this doughty champion,whatever offence might come of it. "Now one other matter, and a delicateone. Have you seen Lady Waldron, since this terrible occurrence?"
"No; I have feared to go near the house. It must be so awful for them.It is horrible enough for me, God knows. But I am ashamed to think of myown trouble, in comparison with theirs. I shall never have the courageto go near them."
"It would be a frightful visit; and yet I think that you should gothere. But it is most difficult to say. In all the dark puzzles andtrials of this world, few men have been placed, I should say, in such astrange dilemma. If you go, you may shock them beyond expression. If youdon't go, you must confirm their worst ideas. But there is one who holdsyou guiltless."
"I am afraid that you only mean--the Lord," Jemm
y Fox said, with hiseyes cast down. "It is out of my luck to hope for more. He is very good,of course--but then He never comes and does it. I wish that you meantsome one nearer."
"My dear young friend, my dear young friend! Who can be nearer to us?"The Parson thought of his own dark times, and spoke with reproach, butnot rebuke. "I ought to have meant the Lord, no doubt. But in plaintruth, I didn't. I meant a mere mortal, like yourself. Oh, how we allcome down to ground! I should have referred to Providence. What a sadrelapse from duty!"
"Relapse more, sir. Relapse more!" cried the young man, insisting on thehuman vein. "You have gone so far, that you must speak out, as--as aMessenger of good tidings."
"Really, Jemmy, you do mix things up"--the parson's eyes twinkled atthis turn upon him--"in a very extraordinary manner. You know what Imean, without any words of mine."
"But how can you tell, sir? Oh, how can you tell? If I could only besure of that, what should I care for anything?"
"Young man, you are sure," said Mr. Penniloe, placing his hand uponJemmy's shoulder. "Or if you are not, you are not worthy to have faithin anything. Next to the word of God, I place my confidence in a woman'sheart."
Fox said not another word. His heart was as full as the older man's. Onewith the faithful memory, and the other with the hopeful faith of love.But he kept out of sight, and made a stir, with a box of powders, andsome bottles.
When he got home, in a better state of mind than he had been able toafford for a long time, out rushed somebody, and pulled him off hishorse, and took the whole command of him with kisses.
"I will never forgive you, never, never!" cried a voice of clear music,out of proper pitch with tears. "To think that you have never told me,Jemmy, of all the wicked things they are doing to you!"
"Why, Christie, what on earth has brought you here? Look out! You aregoing all to tatters with my spurs! Was there ever such a headlong girl?What's up now?"
"It won't do, Jemmy. Your poor mind is all abroad. I saw the whole thingin the _Exeter Gazette_. You deserve to be called--even worse than theyhave called you, for behaving so to me."