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SALEM      CHAPEL 


Chronicles  of  Carltngfotii 


SALEM     CHAPEL 


IN     TWO     VOLUMES 


VOL.  I. 


WILLIAM    BLACKWOOD   AND   SONS 

EDINBURGH    AND    LONDON 

MDCCCLXIII 


The  Right  of  Trninhuion  is  reserved 


ORIGINALLY    PUBLISHED    IN    BLACKWOOD'S   MAGAZINE 


©jbronicies:  of  0arlingfoi;&. 


SALEM      CHAPEL. 


CHAPTER    I. 


Towards  the  west  end  of  Grove  Street,  in  Carling- 
ford,  on  the  shabby  side  of  the  street,  stood  a  red 
brick  building,  presenting  a  pinched  gable  terminated 
by  a  curious  little  belfry,  not  intended  for  any  bell, 
and  looking  not  unlike  a  handle  to  lift  up  the  edifice 
by  to  the  public  observation.  This  was  Salem  Chapel, 
the  only  Dissenting  place  of  worship  in  Carlingford. 
It  stood  in  a  narrow  strip  of  ground,  just  as  the  little 
houses  which  flanked  it  on  either  side  stood  in  their 
gardens,  except  that  the  enclosure  of  the  chapel  was 
flowerless  and  sombre,  and  showed  at  the  farther  end 
a  few  sparsely -scattered  tombstones  —  unmeaning 
slabs,  such  as  the  English  mourner  loves  to  inscribe 
VOL.  i.  a 


'_'  I  HRONft  I .l>   OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

his  Borrow  on.  On  either  side  of  this  little  taber- 
nacle were  the  humble  houses — little  detached  boxes, 
each  two  storeys  high,  each  fronted  by  a  little  flower- 
plol — clean,  respectable,  meagre,  little  habitations, 
which  contributed  most  largely  to  the  ranks  of  the 
congregation  in  the  Chapel.  The  big  houses  oppo- 
site, which  turned  their  backs  and  staircase  windows 
to  the  street,  took  little  notice  of  the  humble  Dissent- 
ing community.  Twice  in  the  winter,  perhaps,  the 
Miss  Hemmings,  mild  evangelical  women,  on  whom 
the  late  rector — the  Low-Church  rector,  who  reigned 
before  the  brief  and  exceptional  incumbency  of  the 
Rev.  Mr  Froctor — had  bestowed  much  of  his  con- 
fidence, would  cross  the  street,  when  other  profitable 
occupations  failed  them,  to  hear  a  special  sermon  on 
a  Sunday  evening.  But  the  Miss  Hemmings  were 
the  only  representatives  of  anything  which  could,  by 
the  utmost  stretch,  be  called  Society,  who  ever  patron- 
ise I  the  Dissenting  interest  in  the  town  of  Carlingford. 
Nobody  from  Grange  Lane  had  ever  been  seen  so 
much  as  in  Grove  Street  on  a  Sunday,  far  less  in  the 
chapel.  Greengrocers,  dealers  in  cheese  and  bacon, 
milkmen,  with  some  dressmakers  of  inferior  preten- 
sions, and  teachers  of  day-schools  of  similar  humble 
character,  formed  the  dlite  of  the  congregation.  It 
is  not  to  be  supposed,  however,  on  this  account,  that 
a  prevailing  aspect  of  shabbiness  was  upon  this  little 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  .  3 

community  ;  on  the  contrary,  the  grim  pews  of  Salem 
Chapel  blushed  with  bright  colours,  and  contained 
both  dresses  and  faces  on  the  summer  Sundays  which 
the  Church  itself  could  scarcely  have  surpassed.  Nor 
did  those  unadorned  walls  form  a  centre  of  asceticism 
and  gloomy  religiousness  in  the  cheerful  little  town. 
Tea-meetings  were  not  uncommon  occurrences  in 
Salem — tea-meetings  which  made  the  little  taber- 
nacle festive,  in  which  cakes  and  oranges  were  diffused 
among  the  pews,  and  funny  speeches  made  from  the 
little  platform  underneath  the  pulpit,  which  woke 
the  unconsecrated  echoes  with  hearty  outbreaks  of 
laughter.  Then  the  young  people  had  their  singing- 
class,  at  which  they  practised  hymns,  and  did  not 
despise  a  little  flirtation;  and  charitable  societies 
and  missionary  auxiliaries  diversified  the  congrega- 
tional routine,  and  kept  up  a  brisk  succession  of 
"  Chapel  business,"  mightily  like  the  Church  business 
which  occupied  Mr  Wentworth  and  his  Sisters  of 
Mercy  at  St  Roque's.  To  name  the  two  communities, 
however,  in  the  same  breath,  would  have  been  ac- 
counted little  short  of  sacrilege  in  Carlingford.  The 
names  which  figured  highest  in  the  benevolent  lists 
of  Salem  Chapel,  were  known  to  society  only  as 
appearing,  in  gold  letters,  upon  the  backs  of  those 
mystic  tradesmen's  books,  which  were  deposited  every 
Monday  in  little  heaps  at  every  house  in  Grange  Lane. 


4  CHRONICLES  OF  CARLIXGFORD  ! 

The  Dissenters,  on  their  part,  aspired  to  no  conquests 
in  the  unattainable  territory  of  high  life,  as  it  existed 
in  Carlingford.  Tiny  were  content  to  keep  their 
privileges  among  themselves,  and  to  enjoy  their  su- 
perior pxeaching  and  purity  with  a  compassionate 
complacence.  While  Mr  Proctor  was  rector,  indeed, 
Mr  Tozer,  the  butterman,  who  was  senior  deacon, 
Pound  it  difficult  to  refrain  from  an  audible  expres- 
sion of  pity  for  the  "Church  folks"  who  knew  no 
better ;  but,  as  a  general  rule,  the  congregation  of 
Salem  kept  by  itself,  gleaning  new  adherents  by  times 
at  an  "  anniversary"  or  the  coming  of  a  new  minister, 
but  knowing  and  keeping  "its  own  place"  in  a  man- 
ner edifying  to  behold. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  old  Mr  Tufton 
declined  in  popularity,  and  impressed  upon  the  minds 
of  his  hearers  those  now-established  principles  about 
the  unfitness  of  old  men  for  any  important  post,  and 
the  urgent  necessity  and  duty  incumbent  upon  old 
clergymen,  old  generals,  old  admirals,  &c. — every 
aged  functionary,  indeed,  except  old  statesmen — to 
resign  in  favour  of  younger  men,  which  have  been, 
within  recent  years,  so  much  enforced  upon  the  world. 
To  communicate  this  opinion  to  the  old  minister  was 
perhaps  less  difficult  to  Mr  Tozer  and  his  brethren 
than  it  might  have  been  to  men  more  refined  and  less 
practical  ;    but  it  was   an  undeniable  relief  to  the 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  5 

managers  of  the  chapel  when  grim  Paralysis  came 
mildly  in  and  gave  the  intimation  in  the  manner  least 
calculated  to  wound  the  sufferer's  feelings.  Mild  but 
distinct  was  that  undeniable  warning.  The  poor  old 
minister  retired,  accordingly,  with  a  purse  and  a  pre- 
sentation, and  young  Arthur  Vincent,  fresh  from 
Homerton,  in  the  bloom  of  hope  and  intellectualism, 
a  young  man  of  the  newest  school,  was  recognised  as 
pastor  in  his  stead. 

A  greater  change  could  not  possibly  have  happened. 
When  the  interesting  figure  of  the  young  minister 
went  up  the  homely  pulpit-stairs,  and  appeared,  white- 
browed,  white-handed,  in  snowy  linen  and  glossy 
clerical  apparel,  where  old  Mr  Tufton,  spiritual  but 
homely,  had  been  wont  to  impend  over  the  desk  and 
exhort  his  beloved  brethren,  it  was  natural  that  a 
slight  rustle  of  expectation  should  run  audibly  through 
the  audience.  Mr  Tozer  looked  round  him  proudly 
to  note  the  sensation,  and  see  if  the  Miss  Hemmings, 
sole  representatives  of  a  cold  and  unfeeling  aristo- 
cracy, were  there.  The  fact  was,  that  few  of  the 
auditors  were  more  impressed  than  the  Miss  Hem- 
mings, who  were  there,  and  who  talked  all  the  even- 
ing after  about  the  young  minister.  What  a  sermon 
it  was !  not  much  in  it  about  the  beloved  brethren ; 
nothing  very  stimulating,  indeed,  to  the  sentiments 
and  affections,  except  in  the  youth  and  good  looks  of 


6  CHRONICLES   OF   I  AUI.IXGFORD  : 

the  ]  which  naturally  made  a  more  distinct 

impression  upon  the  female  portion  of  his  hearers 
than  <ai  the  stronger  sex.  But  then  what  eloquence! 
what  an  amount  of  thought!  what  an  honest  entrance 
into  all  the  difficulties  of  the  subject!  Mr  Tozer  re- 
marked  afterwards  that  such  preaching  was  food  for 
no  h.  It  was  too  closely  reasoned  out,  said  the  excel- 
lent butterman,  to  please  women  or  weak-minded 
persons  ;  hut  he  did  not  doubt,  for  his  part,  that  soon 
the  yuung  men  of  Carlingford,  the  hope  of  the  coun- 
try, would  find  their  way  to  Salem.  Under  such 
prognostications,  it  was  fortunate  that  the  young 
minister  possessed  something  else  besides  close  rea- 
soning  and  Homerton  eloquence  to  propitiate  the 
women  too. 

Mr  Vincent  arrived  at  Carlingford  in  the  beginning 
of  winter,  when  society  in  that  town  was  reassem- 
bling, or  at  Least  reappearing,  after  the  temporary 
sumiie  i'  seclusion.  The  young  man  knew  very  little 
of  the  community  which  he  had  assumed  the  spiritual 
charge  o£  He  was  almost  as  particular  as  the  Eev. 
.Mr  Went  worth  of  St  Roque's  about  the  cut  of  his 
(■oat  and  the  precision  of  his  costume,  ami  decidedly 
preferred  the  word  clergyman  to  the  word  minister, 
which  latter  was  universally  used  by  his  flock;  but 
notwithstanding  these  trifling  predilections,  ]\ I r  Vin- 
cent, who  had  been  brought  up  upon  the  '  Noncon- 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  7 

forinist '  and  the  '  Eclectic  Eeview/  was  strongly  im- 
pressed with  the  idea  that  the  Church  Establishment, 
though  outwardly  prosperous,  was  in  reality  a  pro- 
foundly rotten  institution ;  that  the  Nonconforming 
portion  of  the  English  public  was  the  party  of  pro- 
gress ;  that  the  eyes  of  the  world  were  turned  upon  the 
Dissenting  interest ;  and  that  his  own  youthful  elo- 
quence and  the  Voluntary  principle  were  quite  enough 
to  counterbalance  all  the  ecclesiastical  advantages  on 
the  other  side,  and  make  for  himself  a  position  of 
the  highest  influence  in  his  new  sphere.  As  he 
walked  about  Carlingford  making  acquaintance  with 
the  place,  it  occurred  to  the  young  man,  with  a  thrill 
of  not  ungenerous  ambition,  that  the  time  might 
shortly  come  when  Salem  Chapel  would  be  all  too 
insignificant  for  the  Nonconformists  of  this  hitherto 
torpid  place.  He  pictured  to  himself  how,  hy-and- 
by,  those  jealous  doors  in  Grange  Lane  would  fly 
open  at  his  touch,  and  how  the  dormant  minds  within 
would  awake  under  his  influence.  It  wras  a  blissful 
dream  to  the  young  pastor.  Even  the  fact  that  Mr 
Tozer  was  a  butterman,  and  the  other  managers  of 
the  chapel  equally  humble  in  their  pretensions,  did 
not  disconcert  him  in  that  flush  of  early  confidence. 
All  he  w anted — all  any  man  worthy  of  his  post 
wanted — was  a  spot  of  standing-ground,  and  an  op- 
portunity of  making  the  Truth — and  himself — known. 


8  CHBONICLBS  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

Such,  at  least,  was  the  teaching  of  Homerton  and  the 
Dissenting  organs.  Young  Vincent,  well  educated 
and  enlightened  according  to  his  fashion,  was  yet  so 
entirely  unacquainted  with  any  world  but  that  con- 
tracted one  in  which  he  had  been  brought  up,  that 
he  believed  all  this  as  devoutly  as  Mr  Wentworth 
believed  in  Anglicanism,  and  would  have  smiled  with 
calm  scorn  at  any  sceptic  who  ventured  to  doubt. 
Thus  it  will  be  seen  he  came  to  Carlingford  with 
elevated  expectations — by  no  means  prepared  to  cir- 
culate among  his  flock,  and  say  grace  at  Mrs  Tozer's 
"  teas,"  and  get  up  soirees  to  amuse  the  congregation, 
as  Mr  Tufton  had  been  accustomed  to  do.  These 
secondary  circumstances  of  his  charge  had  little  share 
in  the  new  minister's  thoughts.  Somehow  the  tone 
of  public  writing  has  changed  of  late  days.  Scarcely 
a  newspaper  writer  condescends  now  to  address  men 
who  are  not  free  of  "  society,"  and  learned  in  all  its 
ways.  The  '  Times '  and  the  Magazines  take  it  for 
granted  that  all  their  readers  dine  out  at  splendid 
tables,  and  are  used  to  a  solemn  attendant  behind 
their  chair.  Young  Vincent  was  one  of  those  who 
accept  the  flattering  implication.  It  is  true,  he  saw 
few  enough  of  such  celestial  scenes  in  his  college- 
days.  But  now  that  life  was  opening  upon  him,  he 
doubted  nothing  of  the  society  that  must  follow  ;  and 
with  a  swell  of  gratification  listened  when  the  advan- 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  9 

tages  of  Carlingford  were  discussed  by  some  chance 
fellow-travellers  on  the  railway  ;  its  pleasant  parties 
— its  nice  people — Mr  Wodehouse's  capital  dinners, 
and  the  charming  "breakfasts  —  such  a  delightful 
novelty! — so  easy  and  agreeable!  —  of  the  pretty 
Lady  Western,  the  young  dowager.  In  imagination 
Mr  Vincent  saw  himself  admitted  to  all  these  social 
pleasures  ;  not  that  he  cared  for  capital  dinners  more 
than  became  a  young  man,  or  had  any  special  ten- 
dencies towards  tuft-hunting,  but  because  fancy  and 
hope,  and  ignorance  of  the  real  world,  made  him 
naturally  project  himself  into  the  highest  sphere 
within  his  reach,  in  the  simple  conviction  that  such 
was  his  natural  place. 

With  these  thoughts,  to  be  asked  to  Mrs  Tozer's 
to  tea  at  six  o'clock,  was  the  most  wonderful  cold 
plunge  for  the  young  man.  He  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders, smiled  to  himself  over  the  note  of  invitation, 
which,  however,  was  very  prettily  written  by  Phoebe, 
Mrs  Tozer's  blooming  daughter,  on  paper  as  pink  as 
Lady  Western's,  and  consented,  as  he  could  not  help 
himself.  He  went  out  from  his  nice  lodgings  a  little 
after  six,  still  smiling,  and  persuading  himself  that 
this  would  be  quite  a  pleasant  study  of  manners,  and 
that  of  course  he  could  not  do  less  than  patronise  the 
good  homely  people  in  their  own  way,  whatever  that 
might  be.    Mr  Vincent's  rooms  were  in  George  Street, 


10        CHRONICLES  OP  CARLIXGFORD  : 

at  whal  the  Grange  Lane  people  called  the  other  end, 
in  an  imposing  house  with  a  large  door,  and  iron 
extinguishers  fixed  in  the  railing,  which  had  in  their 
<l;i\  quenched  the  links  of  the  last  century.  To  cross 
the  street  in  his  evening  coat,  and  walk  into  the 
butter-shop,  where  the  two  white-aproned  lads  be- 
hind the  counter  stared,  and  a  humble  member  of  the 
congregation  turned  sharply  round,  and  held  out  the 
hand,  which  had  just  clutched  a  piece  of  bacon,  for 
her  minister  to  shake,  was  a  sufficiently  trying  in- 
troduction to  the  evening's  pleasure;  but  when  the 
young  pastor  had  been  ushered  up-stairs,  the  first 
aspect  of  the  company  there  rather  took  away  his 
breath,  as  he  emerged  from  the  dark  staircase.  Tozer 
himself,  who  awaited  the  minister  at  the  door,  was 
fully  habited  in  the  overwhelming  black  suit  and 
white  tie,  which  produced  so  solemnising  an  effect 
every  Sunday  at  chapel ;  and  the  other  men  of  the  party 
were,  with  a  few  varieties,  similarly  attired.  But  the 
brilliancy  of  the  female  portion  of  the  company  over- 
powered Mr  Vincent.  Mrs  Tozer  herself  sat  at  the 
end  of  her  hospitable  table,  with  all  her  best  china 
tea-service  set  out  before  her,  in  a  gown  and  cap 
which  Grange  Lane  could  not  have  furnished  any 
rivals  to.  The  brilliant  hue  of  the  one,  and  the 
flowers  and  feathers  of  the  other,  would  require  a 
more  elaborate  description  than  this  chronicle  has 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  11 

space  for.  Nor  indeed  in  the  particular  of  dress  did 
Mrs  Tozer  do  more  than  hold  her  own  among  the 
guests  who  surrounded  her.  It  was  scarcely  dark, 
and  the  twilight  softened  down  the  splendours  of  the 
company,  and  saved  the  dazzled  eyes  of  the  young- 
pastor.  He  felt  the  grandeur  vaguely  as  he  came  in 
with  a  sense  of  reproof,  seeing  that  he  had  evidently 
been  waited  for.  He  said  grace  devoutly  when  the 
tea  arrived  and  the  gas  was  lighted,-  and  with  dumb 
amaze  gazed  round  him.  Could  these  be  the  verit- 
able womankind  of  Salem  Chapel  ?  Mr  Vincent  saw 
bare  shoulders  and  flower- wreathed  heads  bending 
over  the  laden  tea-table.  He  saw  pretty  faces  and 
figures  not  inelegant,  remarkable  among  which  was 
Miss  Phoebe's,  who  had  written  him  that  pink  note, 
and  who  herself  was  pink  all  over — dress,  shoulders, 
elbows,  cheeks,  and  all.  Pink — not  red — a  softened 
youthful  flush,  which  was  by  no  means  unbecoming 
to  the  plump  full  figure  which  had  not  an  angle 
anywhere.  As  for  the  men,  the  lawful  owners  of  all 
this  feminine  display,  they  huddled  all  together,  in- 
disputable cheesemongers  as  they  were,  quite  tran- 
scended and  extinguished  by  their  wives  and  daugh- 
ters. The  pastor  was  young  and  totally  inexperienced. 
In  his  heart  he  asserted  his  own  claim  to  an  entirely 
different  sphere  ;  but,  suddenly  cast  into  this  little 
crowd,  Mr  Vincent's  inclination  was  to  join  the  dark 


12         CHRONICLES  OF  CARLLNGFORD  ! 

group  of  husbands  and  fathers  whom  he  knew,  and 
who  made  no  false  pretences.  He  was  shy  of  ven- 
turing upon  those  fine  women,  who  surely  never 
could  be  Mrs  Brown  of  the  Devonshire  Dairy,  and 
Mrs  Pigeon,  the  poulterer's  wife ;  whereas  Pigeon 
and  Blown  themselves  were  exactly  like  what  they 
always  were  on  Sundays,  if  not  perhaps  a  trifle  graver 
and  more  depressed  in  their  minds. 

"  Here's  a  nice  place  for  you,  Mr  Vincent — quite 
the  place  for  you,  where  you  can  hear  all  the  music, 
and  see  all  the  young  ladies.  For  I  do  suppose  min- 
isters, bein'  young,  are  like  other  young  men,"  said 
Mrs  Tozer,  drawing  aside  her  brilliant  skirts  to  make 
room  for  him  on  the  sofa.  "  I  have  a  son  myself  as 
is  at  college,  and  feel  inotherlike  to  those  as  go  in  the 
same  line.  Sit  you  down  comfortable,  Mr  Vincent. 
There  ain't  one  here,  sir,  I'm  proud  to  say,  as  grudges 
you  the  best  seat." 

"  Oh,  mamma,  how  could  you  think  of  saying  such 
a  thing  !  "  said  Phoebe,  under  her  breath  ;  "  to  be  sure, 
Mr  Vincent  never  could  think  there  was  anybody 
anywhere  that  would  be  so  wicked  —  and  he  the 
minister." 

"  Indeed,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs  Tigeon,  who  was 
close  by,  "  not  to  affront  Mr  Vincent,  as  is  deserving 
of  our  best  respects,  I've  seen  many  and  many's  the 
minister  I  wouldn't  have  given  up  my  seat  to  ;  and 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  13 

I  don't  misdoubt,  sir,  you've  heard  of  such  as  well  as 
we.  There  was  Mr  Bailey  at  Parson's  Green,  now. 
He  went  and  married  a  poor  bit  of  a  governess,  as 
common  a  looking  creature  as  you  could  see,  that  set 
herself  up  above  the  people,  Mr  Vincent,  and  was  too 
grand,  sir,  if  you'll  believe  me,  to  visit  the  deacons' 
wives.  Nobody  cares  less  than  me  about  them  vain 
shows.  What's  visiting,  if  you  know  the  vally  of 
your  time  ?  Nothing  but  a  laying  up  of  judgment 
But  I  wouldn't  be  put  upon  neither  by  a  chit  that 
got  her  bread  out  of  me  and  my  husband's  hard 
earnins  ;  and  so  I  told  my  sister,  Mrs  Tozer,  as  lives 
at  Parson's  Green." 

"  Toor  thing !  "  said  the  gentler  Mrs  Tozer,  "  it's 
hard  lines  on  a  minister's  wife  to  please  the  congre- 
gation. Mr  Vincent  here,  he'll  have  to  take  a  lesson. 
That  Mrs  Bailey  was  pretty-looking,  I  must  allow " 

"  Sweetly  pretty  !  "  whispered  Phcebe,  clasping  her 
plump  pink  hands. 

"  Pretty-looking !  I  don't  say  anything  against  it," 
continued  her  mother ;  "  but  it's  hard  upon  a  minister 
when  his  wife  won't  take  no  pains  to  please  his  flock. 
To  have  people  turn  Tip  their  noses  at  you  ain't  plea- 
sant  " 

"  And  them  getting  their  livin'  off  you  all  the 
time,"  cried  Mrs  Pigeon,  clinching  the  milder  speech. 

"  But  it  seems  to  me,"  said  poor  Vincent,  "  that  a 


11  CHRONICLES   OF   OARIJN6FOBD  : 

mini-try  can  no  more  be  said  to  get  his  living  off 
vmi  than  any  other  man.  lie  works  hard  enough 
generally  for  what  little  he  has.  And  really,  Mrs 
I  i.  I'd  rather  no1  hear  all  these  unfortunate  par- 
ticulars aboul  one  of  my  brethren " 

"  He  ain't  nnc  of  the  brethren  now,"  broke  in  the 
poulterer's  wife.  "  He's  been  gone  out  o'  Parson's 
i  In  en  1his  twelvemonths.  Thorn  stuck-up  ways  may 
do  with  the  Church  folks  as  can't  help  themselves, 
lmt  they'll  never  do  with  us  Dissenters.  Not  that 
we  ain't  as  glad  as  can  lie  to  see  you,  Mr  Vincent, 
ami  I  hope  you'll  favour  my  poor  house  another 
night  like  you're  favouring  Mrs  Tozer's.  Mr  Tufton 
always  said  that  was  the  beauty  of  Carlingford  in  our 
connection.  Cheerful  folks  and  no  display.  No 
display,  you  know — nothing  but  a  hearty  meetin', 
aorry  to  part,  and  happy  to  meet  again.  Them's  our 
ways.  And  the  better  you  know  us,  the  better  you'll 
like  us,  I'll  be  bound  to  say.  We  don't  put  it  all  on 
the  surface,  Mr  Vincent/'  continued  Mrs  Pigeon, 
shaking  out  her  skirts  and  expanding  herself  on  her 
chair,  "  lmt  it's  all  veal  and  solid  ;  what  we  say  we 
mean — and  we  don't  say  no  more  than  we  mean — 
and  them's  the  kind  of  folks  to  trust  to  wherever 
you  go." 

Poor  Vincent    made    answer    by    an   inarticulate 
murmur,  whether  of  assent  or  dissent  it  was  impos- 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  15 

sible  to  say  ;  and,  inwardly  appalled,  turned  his  eyes 
towards  his  deacons,  who,  more  fortunate  than  him- 
self, were  standing  all  in  a  group  together  discussing 
chapel  matters,  and  wisely  leaving  general  conversa- 
tion to  the  fairer  portion  of  the  company.  The  un- 
lucky minister's  secret  looks  of  distress  awoke  the 
interest  and  sympathy  of  Phcebe,  who  sat  in  an  inte- 
resting manner  on  a  stool  at  her  mother's  side.  "  Oh, 
mamma,"  said  that  young  lady,  too  bashful  to  address 
himself  directly,  "  I  wonder  if  Mr  Vincent  plays  or 
sings  ?  There  are  some  such  nice  singers  here.  Per- 
haps we  might  have  some  music,  if  Mr  Vincent " 

"  I  don't  perform  at  all,"  said  that  victim, — "  not 
in  any  way ;  but  I  am  an  exemplary  listener.  Let 
me  take  you  to  the  piano." 

The  plump  Phoebe  rose  after  many  hesitations,  and, 
with  a  simper  and  a  blush  and  pretty  air  of  flight, 
took  the  minister's  arm.  After  all,  even  when  the 
whole  company  is  beneath  a  man's  level,  it  is  easier 
to  play  the  victim  under  the  sicpplice  inflicted  by  a 
pretty  girl  than  by  two  mature  matrons.  Phcebe 
understood  pretty  well  about  her  h's,  and  did  not  use 
the  double  negative  ;  and  when  she  rose  up  rustling 
from  her  low  seat,  the  round,  pink  creature,  with 
dimples  all  about  her,  was  not  an  unpleasant  object 
of  contemplation.  Mr  Vincent  listened  to  her  song 
with  decorous  interest.     Perhaps  it  was  just  as  well 


16         CHRONICLES  OF  CARLJNGFORD  : 

sung  as  Lucy  Wodehouse,  in  Grange  Lane,  would 
have  Bung  it.  When  Phcebe  had  concluded,  the 
minister  was  called  to  the  side  of  Mrs  Brown  of  the 
Devonshire  Dairy,  who  had  been  fidgeting  to  secure 
him  from  the  moment  he  approached  the  piano.  She 
was  fat  and  roundabout,  good  woman,  and  had  the 
aspect  of  sitting  upon  the  very  edge  of  her  chair. 
She  held  out  to  the  distressed  pastor  a  hand  covered 
with  a  rumpled  white  glove,  which  did  not  fit,  and 
had  never  been  intended  to  fit,  and  beckoned  to  him 
anxiously.  With  the  calmness  of  despair  Mr  Vincent 
obeyed  the  call. 

"  I  have  been  looking  so  anxious  to  catch  your 
eye,  Mr  Vincent,"  said  Mrs  Brown  ;  "  do  sit  you 
down,  now  there's  a  chance,  and  let  me  talk  to  you 
a  minnit.  Bless  the  girl !  there's  Miss  Polly  Pigeon 
going  to  play,  and  everybody  can  use  their  freedom 
in  talking.  For  my  part,"  said  Mrs  Brown,  securing 
the  vacant  chair  of  the  performer  for  her  captive, 
"  that's  why  I  like  instrumental  music  best.  When 
a  ^  i  i-l  sings,  why,  to  be  sure,  it's  only  civil  to  listen — 
ain't  it  now,  Mr  Vincent?  but  nobody  expects  it  of 
you,  don't  you  sec,  when  she  only  plays.  Now  do 
you  sit  down.  What  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  was 
about  that  poor  creetur  in  Back  Grove  Street — that's 
the  lane  right  behind  the  chapel.  She  do  maunder 
on  so  to  see  the  minister.     Mr  Tozer  he's  been  to  see 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  17 

her,  and  I  sent  Brown,  but  it  wasn't  a  bit  of  use.  It's 
you,  Mr  Vincent,  she's  awanting  of.  If  you'll  call  in 
to-morrow,  I'll  show  you  the  place  myself,  as  you're 
a  stranger ;  for  if  you'll  excuse  me  saying  it,  I  am  as 
curious  as  can  be  to  hear  what  she's  got  to  say." 

"  If  she  has  got  anything  to  say,  she  might  prefer 
that  it  was  not  heard,"  said  Vincent,  with  an  attempt 
at  a  smile.  "  Is  she  ill — and  who  is  she  ?  I  have 
never  heard  of  her  before." 

"  Well,  you  see,  sir,  she  doesn't  belong  rightly  to 
Salem.  She's  a  stranger  here,  and  not  a  joined 
member ;  and  she  ain't  ill  either,  as  I  can  see — only 
something  on  her  mind.  You  ministers,"  said  Mrs 
Brown,  with  a  look  of  awe,  "must  have  a  deal  of 
secrets  confided  to  you.  Folks  may  stand  out  against 
religion  as  long  as  things  go  on  straight  with  them, 
but  they're  sure  to  want  the  minister  as  soon  as 
they've  got  something  on  their  mind ;  and  a  deal 
better  to  have  it  out,  and  get  a  little  comfort,  than  to 
bottle  it  all  up  till  their  latter  end,  like  old  Mrs 
Thompson,  and  let  it  out  in  their  will,  to  drive  them 
as  was  expecting  different  distracted.  It's  a  year  or 
two  since  that  happened.  I  don't  suppose  you've 
heerd  tell  of  it  yet.  But  that's  what  makes  old  Mrs 
Christian — I  dare  to  say  you've  seen  her  at  chapel — 
so  uncomfortable  in  her  feelins.  She's  never  got 
over  it,  sir,  and  never  will  to  her  dying  day." 

VOL.  I.  B 


18  CHRONICLES    OF    CARLINGFORD  : 

"  Some  disappointment  about  money  ? "  said  Mr 
Vincent. 

"  Poor  old  folks  !  their  daughter  did  very  well  for 
herself — and  very  well  for  them  too,"  said  Mrs 
Brown;  "hut  it  don't  make  no  difference  in  Mrs 
Christian's  feelins :  they're  living,  like,  on  Mr  Brown 
the  solicitor's  charity,  you  see,  sir,  instead  of  their 
own  fortin,  which  makes  a  deal  o'  difference.  It 
would  have  been  a  fine  thing  for  Salem  too,"  added 
Mrs  Brown,  reflectively,  "  if  they  had  had  the  old 
lady's  money ;  for  Mrs  Christian  was  always  one 
that  liked  to  he  first,  and  stanch  to  her  chapel,  and 
would  never  have  been  wanting  when  the  collecting- 
books  went  round.  But  it  wasn't  to  be,  Mr  Vincent — 
that's  the  short  and  the  long  of  it ;  and  we  never 
have  had  nobody  in  our  connection  worth  speaking 
of  in  Carlingford  but's  been  in  trade.  And  a  very 
good  thing  too,  as  I  tell  Brown.  For  if  there's  one 
thing  I  can't  abear  in  a  chapel,  it's  one  set  setting  up 
above  the  rest.  But  bein'  all  in  the  way  of  business, 
except  just  the  poor  folks,  as  is  all  very  well  in  their 
place,  and  never  interferes  with  nothing,  and  don't 
count,  there's  nothing  but  brotherly  love  here,  which 
is  a  deal  more  than  most  ministers  can  say  for  their 
flocks.  I've  asked  a  few  friends  to  tea,  Mr  Vincent, 
on  next  Thursday,  at  six.  As  I  haven't  got  no 
daughters  just  out  of  a  boarding-school  to  write 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  19 

notes  for  me,  will  you  take  us  in  a  friendly  way.  and 
just  come  without  another  invitation  ?  All  our  own 
folks,  sir,  and  a  comfortable  evening ;  and  prayers,  if 
you'll  be  so  good,  at  the  end.  I  don't  like  the  new 
fashion,"  said  Mrs  Brown,  with  a  significant  glance 
towards  Mrs  Tozer,  "  of  separatin'  like  heathens, 
when  all's  of  one  connection.  We  might  never  meet 
again,  Mr  Vincent.  In  the  midst  of  life,  you  know, 
sir.     You'll  not  forgot  Thursday,  at 

"But,  my  dear  Mrs  Brown,  I  am  very  sorry: 
Thursday  is  one  of  the  days  I  have  specially  devoted 
to  study,"  stammered  forth  the  unhappy  pastor. 
"  What  with  the  Wednesday  mi  i  ting  and  the  Pi 

•  •nmmittee " 

Mrs  Brown  drew  herself  up  as  well  as  the  peculi- 
arities of  her  form  permitted,  and  her  roseate  coun- 
tenance assumed  a  deeper  glow.  "W<  v  n  in 
the  chapel  longer  than  T  said  the  off! 
deaconess.  "We've  never  been  backward  in  takin' 
trouble,  nor  spendin'  our  substance,  nor  puttin' oui 
hands  to  every  good  work  ;  and  as  for  makiif  a  dif- 
ference between  one  member  and  another,  it's  what 
we  ain't  been  accustomed  to,  Mr  Vincent  I'm  a 
plain  woman,  and  speak  my  mind.  Old  Mr  Tuft  on 
was  very  particular  to  show  no  preference.  He 
always  said,  it  never  answered  in  a  flock  to  show 
more  friendship  to  one  nor  another;    and  if  it  had 


20  CHRONICLES    OF    CARLINGFORD  : 

been  put  to  me,  1  wouldn't  have  said,  I  assure  you, 
sir,  thai  it  was  us  as  was  to  be  made  the  first 
example  o£  If  I  haven't  a  daughter  fresh  out  of 
a  boarding-school,  I've  been  a  member  of  Salem 
five-and-twenty  year,  and  had  ministers  in  my  house 
many's  the  day,  and  as  friendly  as  if  I  were  a 
duchess;  and  for  charities  and  such  things,  we've 
never  been  known  to  fail,  though  I  say  it ;  and  as 
for  trouble " 

"  But  I  spoke  of  my  study,"  said  the  poor  minister, 
as  she  paused,  her  indignation  growing  too  eloquent 
for  words  :  "  you  want  me  to  preach  on  Sunday,  don't 
you  ?  and  I  must  have  some  time,  you  know,  to  do 
my  work." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mrs  Brown,  severely,  "  I  know  it  for  a 
fact  that  Mr  Wentworth  of  St  Boque's  dines  out  five 
days  in  the  week,  and  it  don't  do  his  sermons  no 
injury  ;  and  when  you  go  out  to  dinner,  it  stands  to 
reason  it's  a  different  thing  from  a  friendly  tea." 

"  Ah,  yes,  most  likely !  "  said  Mr  Vincent,  with  a 
heavy  sigh.  "I'll  come,  since  you  wish  it  so  much; 
but,"  added  the  unlucky  young  man,  with  a  melan- 
choly attempt  at  a  smile,  "you  must  not  be  too  kind 
to  me.     Too  much  of  this  kind  of  thing,  you  know, 

might  have  an  effect "    Here  he  paused,  inclined 

to  laugh  at  his  own  powers  of  sarcasm.  As  chance 
would  have  it,  as  he  pointed  generally  to  the  scene 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  21 

before  them,  the  little  wave  of  his  hand  seemed  to 
Mrs  Brown  to  indicate  the  group  round  the  piano, 
foremost  in  which  was  Phcebe,  plump  and  pink,  and 
full  of  dimples.  The  good  mistress  of  the  Devonshire 
Dairy  gave  her  head  a  little  toss. 

"  Ah ! "  said  Mrs  Brown,  with  a  sigh,  "  you  don't 
know,  you  young  men,  the  half  of  the  tricks  of  them 
girls  that  look  so  innocent.  But  I  don't  deny  it's  a 
pleasant  party,"  added  the  deaconess,  looking  round 
on  the  company  in  general  with  some  complacency. 
"  But  just  you  come  along  our  way  on  Thursday,  at 
six,  and  judge  for  yourself  if  mine  ain't  quite  as 
good ;  though  I  have  not  got  no  daughters,  Mr  Vin- 
cent," she  concluded,  with  severe  irony,  elevating  her 
double  chin  and  nodding  her  flowery  head. 

The  subdued  minister  made  no  reply ;  only  deeper 
and  deeper  humiliation  seemed  in  store  for  him. 
Was  it  he,  the  first  prize-man  of  Homerton,  who  was 
supposed  to  be  already  smitten  by  the  pink  charms 
of  Phoebe  Tozer?  The  unfortunate  young  man 
groaned  in  spirit,  and,  seizing  a  sudden  opportunity, 
plunged  into  the  black  group  of  deacons,  and  tried 
to  immerse  himself  in  chapel  business.  But  vain 
was  the  attempt.  He  was  recaptured  and  led  back 
in  triumph  to  Mrs  Tozer's  sofa.  He  had  to  listen  to 
more  singing,  and  accept  another  invitation  to  tea. 
When  he  got  off  at  last,  it  was  with  a  sensation  of 


22  CHRONICLES   OF    CAKLINGFORD. 

dreadful  dwindlemenl  that  poor  Vincent  crossed  the 
street  again  to  his  lonely  abode.  He  knocked  quite 
humbly  at  the  big  door,  and,  with  a  sensation  of 
unclerical  rage,  wondered  to  himself  whether  the 
policeman  who  met  him  knew  he  had  been  out 
to  tea.  Ah,  blessed  Mr  Wentworth  of  St  Uoqne's  ! 
The  }roung  Nonconformist  sighed  as  he  put  on  his 
slippers,  and  kicked  his  boots  into  a  corner  of  his 
sitting-room.  Somehow  he  had  come  down  in  the 
world  all  at  once,  and  without  expecting  it.  Such 
was  Salem  Chapel  and  its  requirements:  and  such 
was  Mr  Vincent's  first  experience  of  social  life  in 
CarlingHford. 


CHAPTER    II. 


It  was  with  a  somewhat  clouded  aspect  that  the 
young  pastor  rose  from  his  solitary  breakfast-table 
next  morning  to  devote  himself  to  the  needful  work 
of  visiting  his  flock.  The  minister's  breakfast,  though 
lonely,  had  not  been  without  alleviations.  He  had 
the  '  Carlingford  Gazette '  at  his  elbow,  if  that  was 
any  comfort,  and  he  had  two  letters  which  were  more 
interesting ;  one  was  from  his  mother,  a  minister's 
widow,  humbly  enough  off,  but  who  had  brought  up 
her  son  in  painful  gentility,  and  had  done  much  to 
give  him  that  taste  for  good  society  which  was  to 
come  to  so  little  fruition  in  Carlingford.  Mr  Vincent 
smiled  sardonically  as  he  read  his  good  mother's 
questions  about  his  "  dear  people,"  and  her  anxious 
inquiry  whether  he  had  found  a  "  pleasant  circle  "  in 
Salem.  Eemembering  the  dainty  little  household 
which  it  took  her  so  much  pains  and  pinching  to 
maintain,  the  contrast  made  present  affairs  still  more 


24  CHRONICLES  OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

and  more  distasteful  to  her  son.  He  could  fancy  her 
trim  little  figure  in  thai  traditionary  black  silk  gown 
which  never  wore  out,  and  the  whitest  of  caps,  gazing 
aghasi  at  Mrs  P>ro\vn  and  MrsTozer.  But,  neverthe- 
less, Mrs  Vincent  understood  all  about  Mrs  Brown 
and  Mrs  Tozer,  and  had  been  very  civil  to  such,  and 
found  tin]  a  vrry  serviceable  in  her  day,  though  her 
son,  \vho  knew  her  only  in  that  widowed  cottage 
where  she  had  her  own  way,  could  not  have  realised 
it.  The  other  letter  was  from  a  Homerton  chum,  a 
young  intellectual  and  ambitious  Nonconformist  like 
himself,  whose  epistle  was  full  of  confidence  and  hope, 
triumph  in  the  cause,  and  its  perpetual  advance. 
"  We  are  the  priests  of  the  poor,"  said  the  Homerton 
enthusiast,  encouraging  his  friend  to  the  sacrifices 
and  struggles  which  he  presumed  to  be  already  sur- 
rounding him.  Mr  Vincent  bundled  up  this  letter 
with  a  sigh.  "Alas!  there  were  no  grand  struggles 
or  sacrifices  in  Carlingford.  "  The  poor"  were  mostly 
church-goers,  as  he  had  already  discovered.  It  was 
a  tolerably  comfortable  class  of  the  community,  that 
dreadful  "connection"  of  Browns,  Pigeons,  and  Tozers. 
Amid  their  rude  luxuries  and  commonplace  plenty, 
life  could  have  no  heroic  circumstances.  The  young 
man  sighed,  and  did  not  feel  so  sure  as  he  once  did 
of  the  grand  generalities  in  which  his  friend  was  still 
confident.     If  Dissenters  led  the  van  of  progress  gen- 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  25 

erally,  there  was  certainly  an  exception  to  be  made 
in  respect  to  Carlingford.  And  the  previous  evenings 
entertainment  had  depressed  the  young  minister's 
expectations  even  of  what  he  himself  could  do — a  sad 
blow  to  a  young  man.  He  was  less  convinced  that 
opportunity  of  utterance  was  all  that  was  necessary 
to  give  him  influence  in  the  general  community.  He 
was  not  half  so  sure  of  success  in  opening  the  closed 
doors  and  sealed  hearts  of  Grange  Lane.  On  the 
whole,  matters  looked  somewhat  discouraging  that 
particular  morning,  which  was  a  morning  in  October, 
not  otherwise  depressing  or  disagreeable.  He  took 
his  hat  and  went  down-stairs  with  a  kind  of  despair- 
ing determination  to  do  his  duty.  There  an  encounter 
occurred  which  did  not  raise  his  spirits.  The  door 
was  open,  and  his  landlady,  who  was  a  member  of 
Salem  Chapel,  stood  there  in  full  relief  against  the 
daylight  outside,  taking  from  the  hands  of  Miss 
Phcebe  Tozer  a  little  basket,  the  destination  of  which 
she  was  volubly  indicating.  Mr  Vincent  appear- 
ing before  Phcebe  had  half  concluded  her  speech, 
that  young  lady  grew  blushingly  embarrassed,  and 
made  haste  to  relinquish  her  hold  of  the  basket. 
Her  conscious  looks  filled  the  unwitting  minister 
with  ignorant  amaze. 

"  Oh,  to  think  Mr  Vincent  should  catch  me  here  ! 
What  ever  will  he  think?   and  what  ever  will  Ma 


26  CHRONICLES   OF    CARLINGFORO  ! 

say?"  cried  Miss  Thoebe.  "Oh,  Mr  Vincent,  Ma 
thought,  please,  you  might  perhaps  like  some  jelly, 
and  I  said  I  would  run  over  with  it  myself,  as  it's  so 
near,  and  the  servant  might  have  made  a  mistake, 
and  Ma  hopes  you'll  enjoy  it,  and  that  you  liked  the 
party  last  night ! " 

"Mrs  Tozer  is  very  kind,"  said  the  minister,  with 
cloudy  looks.  "  Some  what,  did  you  say,  Miss 
Phoebe?" 

"La!  only  some  jelly — nothing  worth  mentioning 
— only  a  shape  that  was  over  supper  last  night,  and 
Ma  thought  you  wouldn't  mind,"  cried  the  messenger, 
half  alarmed  by  the  unusual  reception  of  her  offering. 
Mr  Vincent  turned  very  red,  and  looked  at  the  basket 
as  if  he  would  like  nothing  better  than  to  pitch  it 
into  the  street ;  but  prudence  for  once  restrained  the 
young  man.  He  bit  his  lips,  and  bowed,  and  went 
upon  his  way,  without  waiting,  as  she  intended  he 
should,  to  escort  Miss  Phoebe  back  again  to  her  pa- 
ternal shop.  Carrying  his  head  higher  than  usual, 
and  thrilling  with  offence  and  indignation,  the  young 
pastor  made,  his  way  along  George  Street.  It  was  a 
very  trifling  circumstance,  certainly ;  but  just  when 
an  enthusiastic  companion  writes  to  you  about  the 
advance  of  the  glorious  cause,  and  your  own  high  vo- 
cation as  a  soldier  of  the  Cross,  and  the  undoubted 
fact,  that  the  hope  of  England  is  in  you,  to  have  a 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  27 

shape  of  jelly,  left  over  from  last  night's  tea-party, 
sent  across  the  street  with  complacent  kindness,  for 

your  refreshment !     It  was  tiying.     To  old  Mrs 

Tufton,  indeed,  who  had  an  invalid  daughter,  it  might 
have  seemed  a  Christian  bounty ;  but  to  Arthur  Vin- 
cent, five-and-twenty,  a  scholar  and  a  gentleman — ah 
me  !  If  he  had  been  a  Christchnrch  man,  or  even  a 
Fellow  of  Trinity,  the  chances  are  he  would  have  taken 
it  much  more  graciously ;  for  then  he  would  have  had 
the  internal  consciousness  of  his  own  dignity  to  sup- 
port him  ;  whereas  the  sting  of  it  all  was,  that  poor 
young  Vincent  had  no  special  right  to  his  own  pre- 
tensions, but  had  come  to  them  he  could  not  tell  how ; 
and,  in  reality,  had  his  mind  been  on  a  level  with  his 
fortunes,  ought  to  have  found  the  Tozers  and  Pi- 
geons sufficiently  congenial  company.  He  went  along 
George  Street  with  troubled  haste,  pondering  his  sor- 
rows— those  sorrows  which  he  could  confide  to  no- 
body. Was  he  actually  to  live  among  these  people 
for  years — to  have  no  other  society  —  to  circulate 
among  their  tea-parties,  and  grow  accustomed  to  their 
finery,  and  perhaps  "  pay  attention  "  to  Phcebe  Tozer; 
or,  at  least,  suffer  that  young  lady's  attentions  to  him  ? 
And  what  would  become  of  him  at  the  end  ?  To  drop 
into  a  shuffling  old  gossip,  like  good  old  Mr  Tufton, 
seemed  the  best  thing  he  could  hope  for ;  and  who 
could  wonder  at  the  mild  stupor  of  paralysis — dis- 


28         CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  ! 

ease  not  tragical,  only  drivelling — which  was  the  last 
chapter  of  all? 

The  poor  young  man  accordingly  marched  along 
George  Street  deeply  disconsolate.  "When  he  met  the 
perpetual  curate  of  St  Roque'sat  the  door  of  Masters's 
bookshop — where,  to  be  sure,  at  that  hour  in  the 
morning,  it  was  natural  to  encounter  Mr  Weutworth — 
the  young  Nonconformist  gazed  at  him  with  a  certain 
wistfulness.  They  looked  at  each  other,  in  fact,  being 
much  of  an  age,  and  not  unsimilar  in  worldly  means 
just  at  the  present  moment.  There  were  various 
points  of  resemblance  between  them.  Mr  Vincent, 
too,  wore  an  Anglican  coat,  and  assumed  a  high  cle- 
rical aspect — sumptuary  laws  forbidding  such  pre- 
sumption being  clearly  impracticable  in  England ; 
and  the  Dissenter  was  as  fully  endowed  with  natural 
good  looks  as  the  young  priest.  How  was  it,  then, 
that  so  vast  a  world  of  difference  and  separation  lay 
between  them  ?  For  one  compensating  moment  Mr 
Vincent  decided  that  it  was  because  of  his  more  en- 
lightened faith,  and  felt  himself  persecuted.  But 
even  that  pretence  did  not  serve  the  purpose.  He 
began  to  divine  faintly,  and  with  a  certain  soreness, 
that  external  circumstances  do  stand  for  something, 
if  not  in  the  great  realities  of  a  man's  career,  at  least 
in  the  comforts  of  his  life.  A  poor  widow's  son, 
educated  at  Homerton,  and  an  English  squire's  son, 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  29 

public  school  and  university  bred,  cannot  begin  on 
the  same  level.  To  compensate  that  disadvantage 
requires  something  more  than  a  talent  for  preaching. 
Perhaps  genius  would  scarcely  do  it  without  the  aid 
of  time  and  labour.  The  conviction  fell  sadly  upon 
poor  Arthur  Vincent  as  he  went  down  the  principal 
street  of  Carlingford  in  the  October  sunshine.  He 
was  rapidly  becoming  disenchanted,  and  neither  the 
1  Nonconformist '  nor  the  '  Patriot,'  nor  Exeter  Hall 
itself,  could  set  him  up  again. 

With  these  feelings  the  young  pastor  pursued  his 
way  to  see  the  poor  woman  who,  according  to  Mrs 
Brown's  account,  was  so  anxious  to  see  the  minister. 
He  found  this  person,  whose  desire  was  at  present 
shared  by  most  of  the  female  members  of  Salem 
without  the  intervention  of  the  Devonshire  Dairy,  in 
a  mean  little  house  in  the  close  lane  dignified  by  the 
name  of  Back  Grove  Street.  She  was  a  thin,  dark, 
vivacious-looking  woman,  with  a  face  from  which 
some  forty  years  of  energetic  living  had  withdrawn 
all  the  colour  and  fulness  which  might  once  have 
rendered  it  agreeable,  but  which  was,  nevertheless,  a 
remarkable  face,  not  to  be  lightly  passed  over.  Ex- 
treme thinness  of  outline  and  sharpness  of  line  made 
the  contrast  between  this  educated  countenance  and 
the  faces  which  had  lately  surrounded  the  young 
minister  still  more  remarkable.     It  was  not  a  pro- 


30         CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

found  or  elevated  kind  of  education,  perhaps,  but  it 
was  very  differenl  from  the  thin  superficial  lacker 
with  which  Miss  Phoebe  was  coated.  Eager  dark 
eyes,  with  dark  lines  under  them  —  thin  eloquent 
lips,  the  upper  jaw  projecting  slightly,  the  mouth 
closing  fast  and  firm — a  well-shaped  small  head,  with 
a  light  black  lace  handkerchief  fastened  under  the 
chin— no  complexion  or  softening  of  tint — a  dark. 
sallow,  colourless  face,  thrilling  with  expression, 
energy,  and  thought,  was  that  on  which  the  young 
man  suddenly  lighted  as  he  went  in,  somewhat  indif- 
ferent, it  must  be  confessed,  and  expecting  to  find 
nothing  that  could  interest  him.  She  was  seated  in 
a  shabby  room,  only  half-carpeted,  up  two  pair  of 
stairs,  which  looked  out  upon  no  more  lively  view 
than  the  back  of  Salem  Chapel  itself,  with  its  few 
dismal  scattered  graves — and  was  working  busily  at 
men's  clothing  of  the  coarsest  kind,  blue  stuff  which 
had  transferred  its  colour  to  her  thin  fingers.  Meagre 
as  were  her  surroundings,  however,  Mr  Vincent,  stum- 
bling listlessly  up  the  narrow  bare  stair  of  the  poor 
lodging-house,  suddenly  came  to  himself  as  he  stood 
within  this  humble  apartment.  If  this  was  to  be  his 
penitent,  the  story  she  had  to  tell  might  be  not  un- 
worthy of  serious  listening.  He  stammered  forth  a 
half  apology  and  explanation  of  his  errand,  as  he 
gazed  surprised  at  so  unexpected  a  figure,  wondering 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  31 

within  himself  what  intense  strain  and  wear  of  life 
could  have  worn  to  so  thin  a  tissue  the  outer  garment 
of  this  keen  and  sharp-edged  soul. 

"  Come  in,"  said  the  stranger,  "  I  am  glad  to  see 
you.  I  know  you,  Mr  Vincent,  though  I  can't  sup- 
pose you've  observed  me.  Take  a  seat.  I  have  heard 
you  preach  ever  since  you  came — so,  knowing  in  a 
manner  how  your  thoughts  run,  I've  a  kind  of  ac- 
quaintance with  you  :  which,  to  be  sure,  isn't  the 
same  on  your  side.  I  daresay  the  woman  at  the 
Dairy  sent  you  to  me  ? " 

"  I  understood — from  Mrs  Brown  certainly — that 
you  wanted  to  see  me,"  said  the  puzzled  pastor. 

"  Yes,  it  was  quite  true.  I  have  resources  in  my- 
self, to  be  sure,  as  much  as  most  people,"  said  his 
new  acquaintance,  whom  he  had  been  directed  to  ask 
for  as  Mrs  Hilyard,  "  but  still  human  relations  aiv 
necessary ;  and  as  I  don't  know  anybody  here,  I 
thought  I'd  join  the  Chapel.  Queer  set  of  people, 
rather,  don't  you  think?"  she  continued,  glancing  up 
from  her  rapid  stitching  to  catch  Vincent's  conscious 
eye  ;  "  they  thought  I  was  in  spiritual  distress,  I  sup- 
pose, and  sent  me  the  butterman.  Lord  bless  us  !  if 
I  had  been,  what  could  he  have  done  for  me,  does 
anybody  imagine  ?  and  when  he  didn't  succeed,  there 
came  the  Dairy  person,  who,  I  daresay,  wrould  have 
understood  what  I  wanted  had  I  been  a  cow.     Now 


32  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

I  can  make  out  what  I'm  doing  when  I  have  you,  Mr 
Vincent.  I  know  your  line  a  little  from  your  ser- 
mons. That  -was  wonderfully  clever  on  Sunday 
morning  about  confirmation.  I  belong  to  the  Church 
myself  by  rights,  and  was  confirmed,  of  course,  at  the 
proper  time,  like  other  people,  but  I  am  a  person  of 
impartial  mind.  That  was  a  famous  downright  blow. 
I  liked  you  there." 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  your  approbation,"  said  the 
young  minister,  rather  stiffly ;  "  but  excuse  me — I 
was  quite  in  earnest  in  my  argument." 

"Yes,  yes;  that  was  the  beauty  of  it,"  said  his 
eager  interlocutor,  who  went  on  without  ever  raising 
her  eyes,  intent  upon  the  rough  work  which  he  could 
not  help  observing  sometimes  made  her  scarred  fin- 
gers bleed  as  it  passed  rapidly  through  them.  "~No 
argument  is  ever  worth  listening  to  if  it  isn't  used  in 
earnest.  I've  led  a  wandering  life,  and  heard  an  in- 
finity of  sermons  of  late  years.  When  there  are  any 
brains  in  them  at  all,  you  know,  they  are  about  the 
only  kind  of  mental  stimulant  a  poor  woman  in  my 
position  can  come  by,  for  I've  no  time  for  reading 
lately.  Down  here,  in  these  regions,  where  the  but- 
terman  conies  to  inquire  after  your  spiritual  interests, 
and  is  a  superior  being,"  added  this  singular  new  ad- 
herent of  Salem,  looking  full  for  a  single  moment  in 
her  visitor's  eyes,  with  a  slight  movement  of  the  mus- 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  33 

cles  of  her  thin  face,  and  making  a  significant  pause, 
"  the  air's  a  trifle  heavy.  It  isn't  pure  oxygen  we 
breathe  in  Back  Grove  Street,  by  any  means." 

"  I  assure  you  it  surprises  me  more  than  I  can 
explain,  to  find,"  said  Vincent,  hesitating  for  a  pro- 
per expression,  "  to  find " 

"  Such  a  person  as  I  am  in  Back  Grove  Street,"  in- 
terrupted his  companion,  quickly  ;  "  yes — and  there- 
by hangs  a  tale.  But  I  did  not  send  for  you  to  tell 
it.  I  sent  for  you  for  no  particular  reason,  but  a  kind 
of  yearning  to  talk  to  somebody.  I  beg  your  pardon 
sincerely — but  you  know,"  she  said,  once  more  with 
a  direct  sudden  glance  and  that  half-visible  move- 
ment in  her  face  which  meant  mischief,  "  you  are  a 
minister,  and  are  bound  to  have  no  inclinations  of 
your  own,  but  to  give  yourself  up  to  the  comfort  of 
the  poor." 

"  Without  any  irony,  that  is  the  aim  I  propose  to 
myself,"  said  Vincent ;  "  but  I  fear  you  are  disposed 
to  take  rather  a  satirical  view  of  such  matters.  It  is 
fashionable  to  talk  lightly  on  those  subjects  ;  but  I 
find  life  and  its  affairs  sufficiently  serious,  I  assure 
you " 

Here  she  stopped  her  work  suddenly,  and  looked 

up  at  him,  her  dark  sharp  eyes  lighting  up  her  thin 

sallow  face  with  an  expression  which  it  was  beyond 

Ins  power  to  fathom.     The  black  eyelashes  widened, 
vol.  i.  c 


34  CHRONICLES   OF    CARLINGFORD  : 

the  dark  eyebrows  cose,  with  a  full  gaze  of  the  pro- 
fouiiuVst  tragic  sadness,  ou  the  surface  of  which  a 
certain  gleam  of  amusement  seemed  to  hover.  The 
worn  woman  looked  over  the  dark  world  of  her  own 
experience,  of  which  she  was  conscious  in  every 
nerve,  but  of  which  he  knew  nothing,  and  smiled  at 
his  youth  out  of  the  abysses  of  her  own  life,  where 
volcanoes  had  been,  and  earthquakes.  He  perceived 
it  dimly,  without  understanding  how,  and  faltered 
and  blushed,  yet  grew  angry  with  all  the  self-asser- 
tion of  youth. 

"  I  don't  doubt  you  know  that  as  well  as  I  do — 
perhaps  better ;  but  notwithstanding,  I  find  my  life 
leaves  little  room  for  laughter,"  said  the  young  pastor, 
not  without  a  slight  touch  of  heroics. 

"  Mr  Vincent,"  said  Mrs  Hilyard,  with  a  gleam 
of  mirth  in  her  eye,  "  in  inferring  that  I  perhaps 
know  better,  you  infer  also  that  I  am  older  than 
you,  which  is  uncivil  to  a  lady.  But  for  my  part, 
I  don't  object  to  laughter.  Generally  it's  better  than 
crying,  which  in  a  great  many  cases  I  find  the  only 
alternative.  1  doubt,  however,  much  whether  life, 
from  the  butterman's  point  of  view,  wears  the  same 
aspect.  I  should  be  inclined  to  say  not ;  and  I  dare- 
say your  views  will  brighten  with  your  company," 
added  the  aggravating  woman,  again  resuming,  with 
eyes  fixed  upon  it,  her  laborious  work. 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  35 

"  I  perceive  you  see  already  what  is  likely  to  be 
my  great  trial  in  Carlingford,"  said  young  Vincent. 
"  I  confess  that  the  society  of  my  office-bearers, 
which  I  suppose  I  must  always  consider  myself 
bound  to " 

"  That  was  a  very  sad  sigh/'  said  the  rapid  ob- 
server beside  him  ;  "  but  don't  confide  in  me,  lest  I 
should  be  tempted  to  tell  somebody.  I  can  speak 
my  mind  without  prejudice  to  anybody  ;  and  if  you 
agree  with  me,  it  may  be  a  partial  relief  to  your  feel- 
ings. I  shall  be  glad  to  see  you  when  you  can  spare 
me  half  an  hour.  I  can't  look  at  you  while  I  talk, 
for  that  would  lose  me  so  much  time,  but  at  my  age 
it  doesn't  matter.  Come  and  see  me.  It's  your 
business  to  do  me  good — and  it's  possible  I  might 
even  do  some  good  to  you." 

"  Thank  you.  I  shall  certainly  come,"  said  the 
minister,  rising  with  the  feeling  that  he  had  received 
his  dismissal  for  to-day.  She  rose,  too,  quickly,  and 
but  for  a  moment,  and  held  out  her  hand  to  him. 

"  Be  sure  you  don't  betray  to  the  dairywoman 
what  I  had  on  my  mind,  and  wanted  to  tell  you, 
though  she  is  dyiug  to  know,"  said  his  singular  new 
acquaintance,  without  a  smile,  but  with  again  a  mo- 
mentary movement  in  her  thin  cheeks.  When  she 
had  shaken  hands  with  him,  she  seated  herself  again 
immediately,   and  without  a  moment's   pause   pro- 


36        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLIXGFORD  ! 

ceeded  with  hei  work,  apparently  concentrating  all 
her  faculties  upon  il,  ami  neither  hearing  nor  seeing 
more  of  her  visitor,  though  he  still  stood  within  two 
steps  of  her,  overshadowing  the  table.  The  young 
man  turned  and  left  the  room  with  involuntary  quiet- 
ness, as  if  he  had  been  dismissed  from  the  presence 
of  a  princess.  He  went  straight  down-stairs  without 
ever  pausing,  and  hastened  through  the  narrow  back- 
street  with  still  the  impulse  communicated  by  that 
dismissal  upon  him.  When  he  drew  breath,  it  was 
with  a  curious  mixture  of  feelings.  Who  she  was  or 
what  she  was — how  she  came  there,  working  at  those 
"  slops  "  till  the  colour  came  off  upon  her  hands,  and 
her  poor  thin  fingers  bled — she  so  strangely  superior 
to  her  surroundings,  yet  not  despising  or  quarrelling 
with  them,  or  even  complaining  of  them,  so  far  as  he 
could  make  out — infinitely  perplexed  the  inexperi- 
enced minister.  He  came  away  excited  and  bewil- 
dered from  the  interview,  which  had  turned  out  so 
different  from  his  expectations.  Whether  she  had 
done  him  good,  was  extremely  doubtful ;  but  she 
had  changed  the  current  of  his  thoughts,  which  was 
in  its  way  an  immediate  benefit.  Marvelling  over 
such  a  mysterious  apparition,  and  not  so  sure  as  in 
the  morning  that  nothing  out  of  the  most  vulgar 
routine  ever  could  occur  in  Carlingford,  Mr  Vincent 
turned  with  meditative  steps  towards  the  little  house 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  37 

at  the  extreme  end  of  Grove  Street,  where  his  prede- 
cessor still  lingered.  A  visit  to  old  Mr  Tnfton  was  a 
periodical  once  a-week  duty,  to  be  performed  with 
the  utmost  regularity.  Tozer  and  Pigeon  had  agreed 
that  it  would  he  the  making  of  the  young  minister 
to  draw  thus  from  the  experience  of  the  old  one. 
Whether  Mr  Vincent  agreed  with  them,  may  be  ap- 
prehended from  the  scene  which  follows. 


CHAPTER    III. 


Me  Tufton's  house  was  at  the  extremity  of  Grove 
Street — at  the  extremity,  consequently,  in  that  direc- 
tion, of  Carlingford,  lying  parallel  with  the  end  of 
Grange  Lane,  and  within  distant  view  of  St  Roque's. 
It  was  a  little  old-fashioned  house,  with  a  small  gar- 
den in  front  and  a  large  garden  behind,  in  which  the 
family  cabbages,  much  less  prosperous  since  the  old 
minister  became  unable  to  tend  them,  flourished. 
The  room  into  which  Mr  Vincent,  as  an  intimate  of 
the  house,  was  shown,  was  a  low  parlour  with  two 
small  windows,  overshadowed  outside  by  ivy,  and 
inside  by  two  large  geraniums,  expanded  upon  a 
Jacob's  ladder  of  props,  which  were  the  pride  of  Mrs 
Tufton's  heart,  and  made  it  almost  impossible  to  see 
anything  clearly  within,  even  at  the  height  of  day. 
Some  prints,  of  which  one  represented  Mr  Tufton 
himself,  and  the  rest  other  ministers  of  "  the  connec- 
tion," in  mahogany  frames,   hung  upon   the  green 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  39 

walls.  The  furniture,  though  it  was  not  unduly 
abundant,  filled  up  the  tiny  apartment,  so  that  quite 
a  dislocation  and  rearrangement  of  everything  was 
necessary  before  a  chair  could  be  got  for  the  visitor, 
and  he  got  into  it.  Though  it  was  rather  warm  for 
October  out  of  doors,  a  fire,  large  for  the  size  of  the 
room,  was  burning  in  the  fireplace,  on  either  side  of 
which  was  an  easy-chair  and  an  invalid.  The  one 
fronting  the  light,  and  consequently  fronting  the 
visitor,  was  Adelaide  Tufton,  the  old  minister's 
daughter,  who  had  been  confined  to  that  chair  longer 
than  Phoebe  Tozer  could  remember;  and  who,  during 
that  long  seclusion,  had  knitted,  as  all  Salem  Chapel 
believed,  without  intermission,  nobody  having  ever 
yet  succeeded  in  discovering  where  the  mysterious 
results  of  her  labour  went  to.  She  was  knitting  now, 
reclining  back  in  the  cushioned  chair  Avhich  had 
been  made  for  her,  and  was  her  shell  and  habitation. 
A  very  pale,  emaciated,  eager -looking  woman,  not 
much  above  thirty,  but  looking,  after  half  a  lifetime 
spent  in  that  chair,  any  age  that  imagination  might 
suggest ;  a  creature  altogether  separated  from  the 
world — separated  from  life,  it  would  be  more  proper 
to  say — for  nobody  more  interested  in  the  world  and 
other  people's  share  of  it  than  Adelaide  Tufton  ex- 
isted in  Carlingforcl.  She  had  light-blue  eyes,  rather 
prominent,  which   lightened   without   giving   much 


40        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLLNGFORD  : 

expression  to  her  perfectly  colourless  face.  Her  very 
hair  was  pale,  and  lay  in  braids  of  a  clayey  yellow, 
too  listless  and  dull  to  be  called  brown,  upon  the 
thin  temples,  over  which  the  thin  white  skin  seemed 
to  be  strained  like  an  over-tight  bandage.  Somehow, 
however,  people  who  were  nsed  to  seeing  her,  were 
not  so  sorry  as  they  might  have  been  for  Adelaide 
Tufton.  No  one  could  exactly  say  why ;  but  she 
somehow  appeared,  in  the  opinion  of  Salem  Chapel, 
to  indemnify  herself  for  her  privations,  and  was 
treated,  if  without  much  sympathy,  at  least  without 
that  ostentatious  pity  which  is  so  galling  to  the  help- 
less. Few  people  could  afford  to  be  sorry  for  so 
quick-sighted  and  all-remembering  an  observer  ;  and 
the  consequence  was,  that  Adelaide,  almost  without 
knowing  it,  had  managed  to  neutralise  her  own  dis- 
abilities, and  to  be  acknowledged  as  an  equal  in  the 
general  conflict,  which  she  could  enter  only  with  her 
sharp  tongue  and  her  quick  eye. 

It  was  Mr  Tufton  himself  who  sat  opposite — his 
large  expanse  of  face,  with  the  white  hair  which  had 
been  apostrophised  as  venerable  at  so  many  Salem 
tea-parties,  and  which  Vincent  himself  had  offered 
homage  to,  looming  dimly  through  the  green  shade  of 
the  geraniums,  as  he  sat  with  his  back  to  the  window. 
He  had  a  green  shade  over  his  eyes  besides,  and  his 
head  moved  with  a  slight  palsied  tremor,  which  was 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  41 

now  the  only  remnant  of  that  "visitation"  which  had 
saved  his  feelings,  and  dismissed  more  benignly  than 
Tozer  and  his  brother  deacons  the  old  pastor  from  his 
old  pulpit.  He  sat  very  contentedly  doing  nothing, 
with  his  large  feet  in  large  loose  slippers,  and  his 
elbows  supported  on  the  arms  of  his  chair.  By  the 
evidence  of  Mrs  Tufton's  spectacles,  and  the  news- 
paper lying  on  the  table,  it  was  apparent  that  she  had 
been  reading  the  '  Carlingford  Gazette '  to  her  help- 
less companions  ;  and  that  humble  journal,  which 
young  Vincent  had  kicked  to  the  other  end  of  his 
room  before  coming  out,  had  made  the  morning  pass 
very  pleasantly  to  the  three  secluded  inmates  of 
Siloam  Cottage,  which  was  the  name  of  the  old 
minister's  humble  home.  Mr  Tufton  said  "'uuible 
'ome,"  and  so  did  his  wife.  They  came  from  storied 
Islington,  both  of  them,  and  were  of  highly  respect- 
able connections,  not  to  say  that  Airs  Tufton  had  a 
little  property  as  well ;  and,  acting  in  laudable  oppo- 
sition to  the  general  practice  of  poor  ministers'  wives, 
had  brought  many  dividends  and  few  children  to  the 
limited  but  comfortable  fireside.  Mr  Vincent  could 
not  deny  that  it  was  comfortable  in  its  way,  and 
quite  satisfied  its  owners,  as  he  sat  down  in  the  shade 
of  the  geraniums  in  front  of  the  fire,  between  Ade- 
laide Tufton  and  her  father  ;  but,  oh  heavens  !  to 
think  of  such  a  home  as  all  that,  after  Homerton 


42        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

and  high  Nonconformist  hopes,  could  come  to  him- 
self! The  idea,  however,  was  one  which  did  not 
occur  to  the  young  minister.  He  sat  clown  compas- 
sionately, seeing  no  analogy  whatever  between  his 
own  position  and  theirs ;  scarcely  even  seeing  the 
superficial  contrast,  which  might  have  struck  any- 
body, between  his  active  youth  and  their  helplessness 
and  suffering.  He  was  neither  hard-hearted  nor  un- 
sympathetic, but  somehow  the  easy  moral  of  that 
contrast  never  occurred  to  him.  Adelaide  Tufton's 
bloodless  countenance  conveyed  an  idea  of  age  to 
Arthur  Vincent ;  her  father  was  really  old.  The 
young  man  saw  no  grounds  on  which  to  form  any 
comparison.  It  was  natural  enough  for  the  old  man 
and  ailing  woman  to  be  as  they  were,  just  as  it  was 
natural  for  him,  in  the  height  of  his  early  manhood, 
to  rejoice  in  his  strength  and  youth. 

"  So  there  was  a  party  at  Mr  Tozer's  last  night — 
and  you  were  there,  Mr  Vincent,"  said  old  Mrs  Tufton, 
a  cheerful  active  old  lady,  with  pink  ribbons  in  her 
cap,  which  asserted  their  superiority  over  the  doubt- 
ful light  and  the  green  shade  of  the  geraniums. 
"Who  did  you  have?  The  Browns  and  the  Pigeons, 
and— everybody  else,  of  course.  Now  tell  me,  did  Mrs 
Tozcr  make  tea  herself,  or  did  she  leave  it  to  Phcebe?" 

"  As  well  as  I  can  remember,  she  did  it  herself," 
said  the  young  pastor. 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  43 

"  Exactly  what  I  told  you,  mamma,"  said  Adelaide, 
from  her  chair.  "  Mrs  Tozer  doesn't  mean  Phcebe  to 
make  tea  this  many  a  year.  I  daresay  she  wants  her 
to  marry  somebody,  the  little  flirting  thing.  I  sup- 
pose she  wore  her  pink,  Mr  Vincent — and  Mrs  Brown 
that  dreadful  red-and-green  silk  of  hers ;  and  didn't 
they  send  you  over  a  shape  of  jelly  this  morning  ? 
Ha,  ha !  I  told  you  so,  mamma  ;  that  was  why  it 
never  came  to  me." 

"  Pray  let  me  send  it  to  you,"  cried  Vincent,  eagerly. 

The  offer  was  not  rejected,  though  coquetted  with 
for  a  few  minutes.  Then  Mr  Tufton  broke  in,  in 
solemn  bass. 

"Adelaide,  we  shouldn't  talk,  my  dear,  of  pinks 
and  green  silks.  Providence  has  laid  you  aside,  my 
love,  from  temptations ;  and  you  remember  how  often 
I  used  to  say  in  early  days,  No  doubt  it  was  a  bless- 
ing, Jemima,  coming  when  it  did,  to  wean  our  girl 
from  the  world  ;  she  might  have  been  as  fond  of 
dress  as  other  girls,  and  brought  us  to  ruin,  but  for 
her  misfortune.     Everything  is  for  the  best." 

"  Oh,  bother  ! "  said  Adelaide,  sharply — "  I  don't 
complain,  and  never  did ;  but  everybody  else  finds 
my  misfortune,  as  they  call  it,  very  easy  to  be  borne, 
Mr  Vincent — even  papa,  you  see.  There  is  a  reason 
for  everything,  to  be  sure  ;  but  how  things  that  are 
hard  and  disagreeable  are  always  to  be  called  for 


44  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLISTGFORD  : 

the  best,  I  can't  conceive.  However,  let  us  return 
to  Phcebe  Tozer's  pink  dress.  Weren't  you  rather 
stunned  with  all  their  grandeur?  You  did  not 
think  we  could  do  as  much  in  Salem,  did  you? 
Now  tell  me,  who  has  Mrs  Brown  taken  in  hand  to 
do  good  to  now  ?  I  am  sure  she  sent  you  to  some- 
body; and  you've  been  to  see  somebody  this  morn- 
ing," added  the  quick-witted  invalid,  "  who  has  turned 
out  different  from  your  expectations.  Tell  me  all 
about  it,  please." 

"  Dear  Adelaide  does  love  to  hear  what's  going 
on.  It  is  almost  the  only  pleasure  she  has — and  we 
oughtn't  to  grudge  it,  ought  we?"  said  Adelaide's 
mother. 

"  Stuff!"  muttered  Adelaide,  in  a  perfectly  audible 
aside.  "  Now  I  think  of  it,  I'll  tell  you  who  you've 
been  to  see.  That  woman  in  Back  Grove  Street — 
there  !  What  do  you  think  of  that  for  a  production 
of  Salem,  Mr  Vincent  ?  But  she  does  not  really  be- 
long to  Carlingford.  She  married  somebody  who 
turned  out  badly,  and  now  she's  in  hiding  that  he 
mayn't  find  her ;  though  most  likely,  if  all  be  true, 
he  does  not  want  to  find  her.  That's  her  history.  I 
never  pretend  to  tell  more  than  I  know.  Who  she 
was  to  begin  with,  or  who  he  is,  or  whether  Hilyard 
may  be  her  real  name,  or  why  she  lives  there  and 
comes  to  Salem  Chapel,  I  can't  tell ;  but  that's  the 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  45 

bones  of  her  story,  you  know.  If  I  were  a  clever 
romancer  like  some  people,  I  could  have  made  it  all 
perfect  for  you,  but  I  prefer  the  truth.  Clever  and 
queer,  isn't  she  ?  So  I  have  guessed  by  what  people 
say." 

"  Indeed,  you  seem  to  know  a  great  deal  more 
about  her  than  I  do,"  said  the  astonished  pastor. 

"  I  daresay,"  assented  Adelaide,  calmly.  "  I  have 
never  seen  her,  however,  though  I  can  form  an  idea 
of  what  she  must  be  like,  all  the  same.  I  put  things 
together,  you  see  ;  and  it  is  astonishing  the  number 
of  scraps  of  news  I  get.  I  shake  them  well  down, 
and  then  the  broken  pieces  come  together  ;  and  I 
never  forget  anything,  Mr  Vincent,"  she  continued, 
pausing  for  a  moment  to  give  him  a  distinct  look  out 
of  the  pale-blue  eyes,  which  for  the  moment  seemed 
to  take  a  vindictive  feline  gleam.  "  She's  rather 
above  the  Browns  and  the  Tozers,  you  understand 
Somehow  or  other,  she's  mixed  up  with  Lady  Western, 
whom  they  call  the  Young  Dowager,  you  know.  I 
have  not  made  that  out  yet,  though  I  partly  guess. 
My  lady  goes  to  see  her  up  two  pairs  of  stairs  in 
Back  Grove  Street.  I  hope  it  does  her  ladyship  good 
to  see  how  the  rest  of  the  world  manage  to  live  and 
get  on." 

"  I  am  afraid,  Adelaide,  my  dear,"  said  Mr  Tufton, 
in  his  bass  tones,  "  that  my  young  brother  will  not 


46  CHBONICLRS   OF   CABLING  FORI) : 

think  this  v< iry  improving  conversation.  Pear  Tozer 
was  Bpeaking  to  me  yesterday  about  the  sermon  to 
the  children.  I  always  preached  them  a  sermon  to 
themselves  about  this  time  of  the  year.  My  plan 
has  been  to  take  the  congregation  in  classes ;  the 
young  men — ah,  and  they're  specially  important,  are 
the  young  men !  Dear  Tozer  suggested  that  some 
popular  lectures  now  would  not  come  amiss.  After 
a  long  pastorate  like  mine,"  said  the  good  man, 
blandly,  unconscious  that  dear  Tozer  had  already 
begun  to  suggest  a  severance  of  that  tie  before  gentle 
sickness  did  it  for  him,  "  a  congregation  may  be  sup- 
posed to  be  a  little  unsettled, — without  any  offence 
to  you,  my  dear  brother.  If  I  could  appear  myself 
and  show  my  respect  to  your  ministry,  it  would  have 
a  good  effect,  no  doubt ;  but  I  am  laid  aside,  laid 
aside,  brother  Vincent !  I  can  only  help  you  with 
my  prayers." 

"But  dear,  dear  Mr  Tufton!"  cried  his  wife,  "bless 
you,  the  chapel  is  twice  as  full  as  it  was  six  months 
ago — and  natural  too,  with  a  nice  young  man." 

"  My  dear ! "  said  the  old  minister  in  reproof. 
"  Yes,  quite  natural — curiosity  about  a  stranger ;  but 
my  young  brother  must  not  be  elated  ;  nor  discour- 
aged when  they  drop  off.  A  young  pastor's  start  in 
life  is  attended  by  many  trials.  There  is  always  a 
little  excitement  at  first,  and  an  appearance  of  seats 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  47 

letting  and  the  ladies  very  polite  to  you.  Take  it 
easily,  my  dear  brother !  Don't  expect  too  much. 
In  a  year  or  two  —  by-and-by,  when  things  settle 
down — then  you  can  see  how  it's  going  to  be." 

"  But  don't  you  think  it  possible  that  things  may 
never  settle  down,  but  continue  rising  up  instead  ? " 
said  Mr  Vincent,  making  a  little  venture  in  the 
inspiration  of  the  moment. 

Mr  Tufton  shook  his  head  and  raised  his  large 
hands  slowly,  with  a  deprecating  regretful  motion,  to 
hold  them  over  the  fire.  "  Alas  !  he's  got  the  fever 
already,"  said  the  old  minister.  "My  dear  young 
brother,  you  shall  have  my  experience  to  refer  to 
always.  You're  always  welcome  to  my  advice. 
Dear  Tozer  said  to  me  just  yesterday,  '  You  point 
out  the  pitfalls  to  him,  Mr  Tufton,  and  give  him 
your  advice,  and  I'll  take  care  that  he  shan't  go 
wrong  outside/  says  dear  Tozer.  Ah,  an  invaluable 
man ! " 

"  But  a  little  disposed  to  interfere,  I  think,"  said 
Vincent,  with  an  irrestrainable  inclination  to  show 
his  profound  disrelish  of  all  the  advice  which  was 
about  to  be  given  him. 

Mr  Tufton  raised  his  heavy  forefinger  and  shook 
it  slowly.  "  No — no.  Be  careful,  my  dear  brother. 
You  must  keep  well  with  your  deacons.  You  must 
not  take  up  prejudices  against  them.     Dear  Tozer  is 


48  CHRONICLES   OF    CARLIXGFORD  : 

a  man  of  a  thousand — a  man  of  a  thousand  !  Dear 
Tozer,  if  you  listen  to  him,  will  keep  you  out  ol 
trouble.  The  trouble  he  takes  and  the  money  he 
spends  for  Salem  Chapel  is,  mark  my  words,  un- 
known— ami."  added  the  old  pastor,  awfully  sylla- 
bling the  long  word  in  his  solenm  bass,  "  in-con- 
criv-able." 

"  He  is  a  bore  and  an  ass  for  all  that,"  said  the 
daring  invalid  opposite,  with  perfect  equanimity,  as 
if  uttering  the  most  patent  and  apparent  of  truths. 
"  Don't  you  give  in  to  him,  Mr  Vincent.  A  pretty 
business  you  will  have  with  them  all,"  she  continued, 
dropping  her  knitting-needles  and  lifting  her  pale- 
blue  eyes,  with  their  sudden  green  gleam,  to  the  face 
of  the  new-comer  with  a  rapid  perception  of  his  char- 
acter, which,  having  no  sympathy  in  it,  but  rather  a 
certain  mischievous  and  pleased  satisfaction  in  his 
probable  discomfiture,  gave  anything  but  comfort  to 
the  object  of  her  observation.  "You  are  something 
new  for  them  to  pet  and  badger.  I  wonder  how  long 
they'll  be  of  killing  Mr  Vincent.  Papa's  tough ;  but 
you  remember,  mamma,  they  finished  off  the  other 
man  before  us  in  two  years." 

"  Oh,  hush,  Adelaide,  hush !  you'll  frighten  Mr 
Vincent,"  cried  the  kind  little  mother,  with  uneasy 
looks  :  "  when  he  comes  to  see  us  and  cheer  us  up — 
as  I  am  sure  is  very  kind  of  him — it  is  a  shame  to 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  49 

put  all  sorts  of  things  in  his  head,  as  papa  and  you 
do.  Never  mind  Adelaide,  Mr  Vincent,  dear.  Do 
your  duty,  and  never  fear  anybody  ;  that's  always 
been  my  maxim,  and  I've  always  found  it  answer. 
Not  going  away,  are  you  ?  Dear,  dear  !  and  we've 
had  no  wise  talk  at  all,  and  never  once  asked  for 
your  poor  dear  mother — quite  well,  I  hope  ? — and 
Miss  Susan  ?  You  should  have  them  come  and  see 
you,  and  cheer  you  up.  Well,  good  morning,  if  you 
must  go ;  don't  be  long  before  you  come  again." 

"  And,  my  dear  young  brother,  don't  take  up  any 
prejudices,"  interposed  Mr  Tufton,  in  tremulous  bass, 
as  he  pressed  Vincent's  half-reluctant  fingers  in  that 
large  soft  flabby  ministerial  hand.  Adelaide  added 
nothing  to  these  valedictions ;  but  when  she  too  had 
received  his  leave-taking,  and  he  had  emerged  from 
the  shadow  of  the  geraniums,  the  observer  paused 
once  more  in  her  knitting.  "  This  one  will  not.hold 
out  two  years,"  said  Adelaide,  calmly,  to  herself,  no 
one  else  paying  any  attention;  and  she  returned  to 
her  work  with  the  zest  of  a  spectator  at  the  com- 
mencement of  an  exciting  drama.  She  did  double 
work  all  the  afternoon  under  the  influence  of  this 
refreshing  stimulant.  It  was  quite  a  new  interest  in 
her  life. 

Meanwhile  young  Vincent  left  the  green  gates  of 
Siloam  Cottage  with  no  very  comfortable  feelings — 

VOL.  I.  d 


50  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

with  feelings,  Indeed,  the  reverse  of  comfortable,  yet 
conscious  of  a  certain  swell  and  elevation  in  his  mind 
at  the  same  moment  It  was  for  him  to  show  the 
entire  community  of  Carlingford  the  difference  be- 
tween his  reign  and  the  old  regime.  It  was  for  him 
to  change  the  face  of  affairs — to  reduce  Tozer  into  his 
due  place  of  subordination,  and  to  bring  in  an  influx 
of  new  life,  intelligence,  and  enlightenment  over  the 
prostrate  butterman.  The  very  sordidness  and  con- 
traction of  the  little  world  intu  which  he  had  just 
received  so  distinct  a  view,  promoted  the  revulsion 
of  feeling  which  now  cheered  him.  The  aspiring 
young  man  could  as  soon  have  consented  to  lose  his 
individuality  altogether  as  to  acknowledge  the  most 
distant  possibility  of  accepting  Tozer  as  his  guide, 
philosopher,  and  friend.  He  went  back  again  through 
Grove  Street,  heated  and  hastened  on  his  way  by 
those,  impatient  thoughts.  "When  he  came  as  far  as 
Salem,  he  could  not  but  pause  to  look  at  it  with  its 
pinched  gable  and  mean  little  belfry,  innocent  of  a 
bell.  The  day  was  overclouded,  and  no  clearness  of 
atmosphere  relieved  the  aspect  of  the  shabby  chapel, 
with  its  black  railing,  and  locked  gates,  and  dank 
flowerless  grass  inside.  To  see  anything  venerable 
or  sacred  in  the  aspect  of  such  a  place,  required  an 
amount  of  illusion  and  glamour  which  the  young 
minister  could  not  summon  into  his  eyes.     It  was 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  51 

not  the  centre  of  light  in  a  dark  place,  the  simple 
tribune  from  which  the  people's  preacher  should  pro- 
claim, to  the  awe  and  conviction  of  the  multitude, 
that  Gospel  once  preached  to  the  poor,  of  which  he 
flattered  himself  he  should  he  the  truest  messenger 
in  Carlingford.  Such  had  been  the  young  man's 
dreams  in  Homerton — dreams  mingled,  it  is  true, 
with  personal  ambition,  but  full  notwithstanding 
of  generous  enthusiasm.  No — nothing  of  the  kind. 
Only  Salem  Chapel,  with  so  many  pews  let,  and  so 
many  still  to  be  disposed  of,  and  Tozer  a  guardian 
angel  at  the  door.  Mr  Vincent  was  so  far  left  to 
himself  as  to  give  vent  to  an  impatient  exclamation 
as  he  turned  away.  But  still  matters  were  not 
hopeless.  He  himself  was  a  very  different  man  from 
Mr  Tufton.  Kindred  spirits  there  must  surely  be  in 
Carlingford  to  answer  to  the  call  of  his.  Another 
day  might  dawn  for  the  Nonconformists,  who.  were 
not  aware  of  their  own  dignity.  With  this  thought 
he  retraced  his  steps  a  little,  and,  witli  an  impulse 
which  he  did  not  explain  to  himself,  threaded  his 
way  up  a  narrow  lane  and  emerged  into  Back  Grove 
Street,  about  the  spot  where  he  had  lately  paid  his 
pastoral  visit,  and  made  so  unexpected  an  acquaint- 
ance. This  woman — or  should  he  not  say  lady  ? — 
was  a  kind  of  first-fruits  of  his  mission.  The  young 
man  looked  up  with  a  certain  wistful  interest  at  the 


52         CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  ! 

house  in  which  she  lived.  She  was  neither  young 
nor  fair,  it  is  true,  but  she  interested  the  youthful 
Nonconformist,  who  was  not  too  old  for  impulses  of 
chivalry,  and  who  could  not  forget  her  poor  fingers 
scarred  with  her  rough  work.  He.  had  no  other 
motive  for  passing  the  house  but  that  of  sympathy 
and  compassion  for  the  forlorn  brave  creature  who 
was  so  unlike  her  surroundings ;  and  no  throbbing 
pulse  or  trembling  nerve  forewarned  Arthur  Vincent 
of  the  approach  of  fate. 

At  that  moment,  however,  fate  was  approaching  in 
the  shape  of  a  handsome  carriage,  which  made  quite 
an  exaggeration  of  echo  in  this  narrow  back-street, 
which  rang  back  every  jingle  of  the  harness  and  dint 
of  the  hoofs  from  every  court  and  opening.  It  drew 
up  before  Mrs  Hilyard's  door — at  the  door  of  the 
house,  at  least,  in  which  Mrs  Hilyard  was  a  humble 
lodger  ;  and  while  Vincent  slowly  approached,  a 
brilliant  vision  suddenly  appeared  before  him,  rust- 
ling forth  upon  the  crowded  pavement,  where  the 
dirty  children  stood  still  to  gape  at  her.  A  woman 
— a  lady — a  beautiful  dazzling  creature,  resplendent 
in  the  sweetest  English  roses,  the  most  delicate  be- 
wildering bloom.  Though  it  was  but  for  a  moment, 
the  bewildered  young  minister  had  time  to  note  the 
dainty  foot,  the  daintier  hand,  the  smiling  sunshiny 
eyes,  the  air  of  conscious  supremacy,  which  was  half 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  53 

command  and  half  entreaty — an  ineffable  combina- 
tion. That  vision  descended  out  of  the  heavenly- 
chariot  upon  the  mean  pavement  just  as  Mr  Vincent 
came  up ;  and  at  the  same  moment  a  ragged  boy, 
struck  speechless,  like  the  young  minister,  by  the 
apparition,  planted  himself  full  in  her  way  with  open 
mouth  and  staring  eyes,  too  much  overpowered  by 
sudden  admiration  to  perceive  that  he  stopped  the 
path.  Scarcely  aware  what  he  was  doing,  as  much 
beauty-struck  as  his  victim,  Vincent,  with  a  certain 
unconscious  fury,  seized  the  boy  by  the  collar,  and 
swung  him  impatiently  off  the  pavement,  with  a  feel- 
ing of  positive  resentment  against  the  imp,  whose 
rags  were  actually  touching  those  sacred  splendid 
draperies.  The  lady  made  a  momentary  pause, 
turned  half  round,  smiled  with  a  gracious  inclination 
of  her  head,  and  entered  at  the  open  door,  leaving 
the  young  pastor  in  an  incomprehensible  ecstasy, 
with  his  hat  off,  and  all  his  pulses  beating  loud  in 
his  ears,  riveted,  as  the  romancers  say,  to  the  pave- 
ment. When  the  door  shut  he  came  to  himself, 
stared  wildly  into  the  face  of  the  next  passenger  who 
came  along  the  narrow  street,  and  then,  becoming 
aware  that  he  still  stood  uncovered,  grew  violently 
red,  put  on  his  hat,  and  went  off  at  a  great  pace. 
But  what  was  the  use  of  going  off  ?  The  deed  was 
done.     The  world  on  the  other  side  of  these  prancing 


54  CHBONII  I.KS   OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

horses  was  a  different  world  from  that  on  this  side. 
Those  other  matters,  of  which  he  had  been  thinking 
so  hotly,  had  suddenly  faded  into  a  background  and 
accessories  to  the  one  triumphant  figure  which  occu- 
pied all  the  scene.  He  scarcely  asked  himself  who 
was  that  beautiful  vision  ?  The  fact  of  her  existence 
was  at  the  moment  too  overpowering  for  any  second- 
ary inquiries.  He  had  seen  her — and  lo !  the  uni- 
verse was  changed.  The  air  tingled  softly  with  the 
sound  of  prancing  horses  and  rolling  wheels,  the  air 
breathed  an  irresistible  soft  perfume,  which  could 
nevermore  die  out  of  it,  the  air  rustled  with  the 
silken  thrill  of  those  womanly  robes.  There  she  had 
enthroned  herself — not  in  his  startled  heart,  but  in 
the  palpitating  world,  which  formed  in  a  moment's 
time  into  one  great  background  and  framework  for 
that  beatific  form. 

What  the  poor  young  man  had  done  to  be  suddenly 
assailed  and  carried  off  his  feet  by  this  wonderful  and 
unexpected  apparition,  we  are  unable  to  say.  He 
seemed  to  have  done  nothing  to  provoke  it :  approach- 
ing quietly  as  any  man  might  do,  pondering  grave 
thoughts  of  Salem  Chapel,  and  how  he  was  to  make 
his  post  tenable,  to  be  transfixed  all  at  once  and  un- 
awares by  that  fairy  lance,  was  a  spite  of  fortune 
which  nobody  could  have  predicted.  But  the  thing 
was  done.     He  went  home  to  hide  his  stricken  head, 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  55 

as  was  natural ;  tried  to  read,  tried  to  think  of  a 
popular  series  of  lectures,  tried  to  lay  plans  for  his 
campaign  and  heroic  desperate  attempts  to  resuscitate 
the  shopkeeping  Dissenterism  of  Carlingford  into  a 
lofty  Nonconformist  ideal.  But  vain  were  the  efforts. 
Wherever  he  lifted  his  eyes,  was  not  She  there,  all- 
conquering  and  glorious?  when  he  did  not  lift  his 
eyes,  was  not  she  everywhere  Lady  Paramount  of  the 
conscious  world  ?  "Womankind  in  general,  which  had 
never,  so  to  speak,  entered  his  thoughts  before,  had 
produced  much  trouble  to  poor  Arthur  Vincent  since 
his  arrival  in  Carlingford.  But  Phoebe  Tozer,  pink 
and  blooming — Mrs  Hilyard,  sharp  and  strange — 
Adelaide  Tufton,  pale  spectator  of  a  life  with  which 
she  had  nothing  to  do — died  off  like  shadows,  and  left 
no  sign  of  their  presence.    Who  was  She  ? 


CHAPTER    IV. 


Aftee  the  remarkable  encounter  which  had  thus 
happened  to  the  young  minister,  life  went  on  with 
him  in  the  dullest  routine  for  some  days.  Thursday 
came,  and  he  had  to  go  to  Mrs  Brown's  tea-party, 
where,  in  the  drawing-room  up-stairs,  over  the  Devon- 
shire Dairy,  after  tea,  and  music,  and  the  diversions 
of  the  evening,  he  conducted  prayers  to  the  great 
secret  satisfaction  of  the  hostess,  who  felt  that  the 
superior  piety  of  her  entertainment  entirely  made  up 
for  any  little  advantage  in  point  of  gentility  which 
Mrs  Tozer,  with  a  grown-up  daughter  fresh  from  a 
boarding-school,  might  have  over  her.  On  Friday 
evening  there  was  the  singing-class  at  the  chapel, 
which  Mr  Vincent  was  expected  to  look  in  upon,  and 
from  which  he  had  the  privilege  of  walking  home 
with  Miss  Tozer.  When  he  arrived  with  his  blooming 
charge  at  the  private  door,  the  existence  of  which  he 
had  not  hitherto  been  aware  of,  Tozer  himself  appeared, 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  57 

to  invite  the  young  pastor  to  enter.     This  time  it  was 
the  Imtterin an's  unadorned  domestic  hearth  to  which 
Mr  Vincent  was  introduced.     This  happy  privacy  was 
in  a  little  parlour,  which,  being  on  the  same  floor  with 
the  butter-shop,  naturally  was  not  without  a  reminis- 
cence of  the  near  vicinity  of  all  those  hams  and  cheeses 
— a  room  nearly  blocked  up  by  the  large  family-table, 
at  which,  to  the  disgust  of  Phoebe,  the  apprentices  sat 
at  meal-times  along  with  the  family.     One  little  boy, 
distinguished  out  of  doors  by  a  red  worsted  comforter, 
was,  besides  Phcebe,  the  only  member  of  the  family 
itself  now  at  home  ;  the  others  being  two  sons,  one  in 
Australia,  and  the  other  studying  for  a  minister,  as 
Mrs  Tozer  had  already  informed  her  pastor,  with  mo- 
therly pride.     Mrs  Tozer  sat  in  an  easy-chair  by  the 
fire  darning  stockings  on  this  October  night ;  her 
husband,  opposite  to  her,  had  been  looking  over  his 
greasy  books,  one  of  which  lay  open  upon  a  little 
writing-desk,  where  a  bundle  of  smaller  ones  in  red 
leather,  with   "  Tozer,   Cheesemonger/'  stamped  on 
them  in  gilt  letters,  lay  waiting  Phoebe's  arrival  to  be 
made  up.     The  Benjamin  of  the  house  sat  half-way 
down  the  long  table  with  his  slate  working  at  Iris 
lessons.     The  margin  of  space  round  this  long  table 
scarcely  counted  in  the  aspect  of  the  room.     There 
was  space  enough  for  chairs  to  be  set  round  it,  and 
that  was  all :  the  table  with  its  red-and-blue  cover 


58  CHRONICLES    OF    CA  III. I  ffGFOBD  : 

and  the  fan--  appearing  above  it,  constituted  the  entire 
scene  Mi  Vincenl  Btood  uneasily  at  a  corner  when 
he  was  brought  into  the  apartment,  and  distinctly 
placed  himself  al  table,  as  if  at  a  meal,  when  lie  sat 

down. 

"Do  yon  now  take  off  your  greatcoat,  and  make 
yourself  comfortable,"  said  Mrs  Tozer ;  "there's  a  Lit 
of  supper  coming  presently.  This  is  just  what  I  like, 
is  this.  A  party  is  very  well  in  its  way,  Mr  Vincent, 
sir ;  but  when  a  gen'leman  comes  in  familiar,  and 
takes  us  just  as  we  are,  that's  what  I  like.  We  never 
can  he  took  wrong  of  an  evening,  Tozer  and  me  ; 
there's  always  a  bit  of  something  comfortable  for  sup- 
per ;  and  after  the  shop's  shut  in  them  long  evenings, 
time's  free.  Phoebe,  make  haste  and  take  off  your 
things.  What  a  colour  you've  got,  to  be  sure,  with 
the  night  air !  I  declare,  Pa,  somebody  must  have 
been  saying  something  to  her,  or  she'd  never  look  so 
bright." 

"  I  daresay  there's  more  things  than  music  gets 
talked  of  at  the  singing,"  said  Tozer,  thus  appealed 
to.  "  But  she'd  do  a  deal  better  if  she'd  try  to  im- 
prove her  mind  than  take  notice  what  the  young 
fellows  says." 

"  Oh,  Pa,  the  idea !  and  before  Mr  Vincent  too,"  cried 
Phoebe — "  to  think  I  should  ever  dream  of  listening 
to  anything  that  anybody  might  choose  to  say  !  " 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  59 

Vincent,  to  whom  the  eyes  of  the  whole  family 
turned,  grinned  a  feeble  smile,  but,  groaning  in  his 
mind,  was  totally  unequal  to  the  effort  of  saying  any- 
thing. After  a  moment's  pause  of  half-disappointed 
expectation,  Phoebe  disappeared  to  take  off  her  bon- 
net ;  and  Mrs  Tozer,  bestirring  herself,  cleared  away 
the  desk  and  books,  and  went  into  the  kitchen  to  in- 
quire into  the  supper.  The  minister  and  the  deacon 
were  accordingly  left  alone. 

"  Three  more  pews  applied  for  this  week — fifteen 
sittings  in  all,"  said  Mr  Tozer  ;  "  that's  what  I  call 
satisfactory,  that  is.  "We  mustn't  let  the  steam  go 
down — not  on  no  account.  You  keep  well  at  them 
of  Sundays,  Mr  Vincent,  and  trust  to  the  managers, 
sir,  to  keep  'em  up  to  their  dooty.  Me  and  Mr  Tufton 
was  consulting  the  other  day.  He  says  as  we  oughtn't 
to  spare  you,  and  you  oughtn't  to  spare  yourself. 
There  hasn't  been  such  a  opening  not  in  our  connec- 
tion for  fifteen  year.  "We  all  look  to  you  to  go  into 
it,  Mr  Vincent.  If  all  goes  as  I  expect,  and  you  keep 
up  as  you're  doing,  I  see  no  reason  why  we  shouldn't 
be  able  to  put  another  fifty  to  the  salary  next  year." 

"  Oh  ! "  said  poor  Vincent,  with  a  miserable  face. 
He  had  been  rather  pleased  to  hear  about  the  "  open- 
ing," but  this  matter-of-fact  encouragement  and  stimu- 
lus threw  him  back  into  dismay  and  disgust. 

"Yes,"  said  the  deacon,  "  though  I  wouldn't  advise 


GO  CHRONICLES   OF    CAKT.IXGFORD  : 

you,  as  a  young  man  settin'  out  in  life,  to  calculate 
upon  it,  yet  we  all  think  it  more  than  likely  ;  hut  if 
you  was  t"  ask  my  advice,  I'd  say  to  give  it  'em  a 
little  more  plain — meaning  the  Church  folks.  It's 
expected  of  a  new  man.  I'd  touch 'em  up  in  the 
State-Church  line,  Mr  Vincent,  if  I  was  you.  Give 
us  a  coorse  upon  the  anomalies,  and  that  sort  of  thing 
— the  bishops  in  their  palaces,  and  the  fisherman  as 
was  the  start  of  it  all ;  there's  a  deal  to  be  done  in 
that  way.  It  always  tells  ;  and  my  opinion  is  as  you 
might  secure  the  most  part  of  the  young  men  and 
thinkers,  and  them  as  can  see  what's  what,  if  you  lay 
it  on  pretty  strong.  Not,"  added  the  deacon,  remem- 
bering in  time  to  add  that  necessary  salve  to  the  con- 
science— "not  as  I  would  have  you  neglect  what's 
more  important ;  but,  after  all,  what  is  more  import- 
ant, Mr  Vincent,  than  freedom  of  opinion  and  choos- 
ing your  own  religious  teacher?  You  can't  put  gos- 
pel truth  in  a  man's  mind  till  you've  freed  him  out 
of  them  bonds.  It  stands  to  reason — as  long  as  he 
believes  just  what  he's  told,  and  has  it  all  made  out 
for  him  the  very  words  he's  to  pray,  there  may  be 
feelin',  sir,  but  there  can't  be  no  spiritual  under- 
standin'  in  that  man." 

"  Well,  one  can't  deny  that  there  have  been  en- 
lightened men  in  the  Church  of  England/'  said  the 
young  Nonconformist,   with  lofty  candour.     "  The 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  61 

inconsistencies  of  the  human  mind  are  wonderful ; 
and  it  is  coming  to  be  pretty  clearly  understood  in 
the  intellectual  world,  that  a  man  may  show  the 
most  penetrating  genius,  and  even  the  widest  liber- 
ality, and  yet  be  led  a  willing  slave  in  the  bonds  of 
religious  rite  and  ceremony.  One  cannot  understand 
it,  it  is  true ;  but  in  our  clearer  atmosphere  we  are 
bound  to  exercise  Christian  charity.  Great  as  the 
advantages  are  on  our  side  of  the  question,  I  would 
not  willingly  hurt  the  feelings  of  a  sincere  Church- 
man, Avho,  for  anything  I  know,  may  be  the  best  of 
men." 

Mr  Tozer  paused  with  a  "  humph  ! "  of  uncertainty ; 
rather  dazzled  with  the  fine  language,  but  doubtful 
of  the  sentiment.  At  length  light  seemed  to  dawn 
upon  the  excellent  butterman.  "  Bless  my  soul ! 
that's  a  new  view,"  said  Tozer;  "that's  taking  the 
superior  line  over  them !  My  impression  is  as  that 
would  tell  beautiful.  Eh  !  it's  famous,  that  is  !  I've 
heard  a  many  gentlemen  attacking  the  Church,  like, 
from  down  below,  and  giving  it  her  about  her  money 
and  her  greatness,  and  all  that ;  but  our  clearer  at- 
mosphere— there's  the  point !  I  always  knew  as  you 
was  a  clever  young  man,  Mr  Vincent,  and  expected 
a  deal  from  you  ;  but  that's  a  new  view,  that  is  ! " 

"  Oh,  Pa,  dear !  don't  be  always  talking  about 
chapel  business,"  said  Miss  Phcebe,  coming  in.     "  I 


G2  CHRONII  UES    OF   I  AKLIKGFORD  : 

am  sure  Mr  Vincent  is  sick  to  death  of  Salem.  I 
am  butc  hi-  heart  is  in  Borne  other  place  now;  and 
if  you  bore  him  always  about  the  chapel,  he'll  never, 
take  ("  Carlingford.  Oh,  Mr  Vincent,  1  am 
rare  you  know  it  is  quite  true  !" 

•■  Lndeed,"  said  the  young  minister,  with  a  sudden 
recollection,  "  I  ran  vouch  fur  my  heart  being  in 
Carlingford,  and  nowhere  else;"  and  as  he  spoke 
his  colour  rose.  Phoebe  clapped  her  hands  with  a 
little  semblance  of  confusion. 

"  Oh,  la!"  cried  that  young  lady,  "  that  is  quite  as 
good  as  a  confession  that  you  have  lost  it,  Mr  Yin- 
nut.  Oh,  I  am  so  interested'  I  wonder  who  it  can 
be!" 

"Hush,  child;  I  daresay  we  shall  know  before 
Inn-."  -aid  Mrs  Tozer,  who  had  also  rejoined  the 
domestic  party;  "and  don't  you  colour  up  or  look 

aahai 1.  Mr  Vincent    Take  my  word,  it's  the  very 

besi  a  young  minister  can  do.  To  be  sure,  where 
there's  a  quantity  of  young  ladies  in  a  congregation, 
it  sometimes  makes  a  little  dispeace;  but  there  ain't 
tn  say  many  to  choose  from  in  Salem," 

"  La,  mamma  how  '•"//  you  think  it's  a  lady  in 
Salem?"  cried  Phoebe,  in  a  flutter  of  consciousness. 

"Oh,  you  curious  thin-  \"  cried  Mrs  Tozer:  "she'll 
never  rest,  Mr  Vincent,  till  she's  found  it  all  out. 
She   always    was,   from    a   child,   a  dreadful  one  for 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  63 

finding  out  a  secret.  But  don't  you  trouble  yourself ; 
it's  the  very  best  thing  a  young  minister  can  do." 

Poor  Vincent  made  a  hasty  effort  to  exculpate 
himself  from  the  soft  impeachment,  but  with  no 
effect.  Smiles,  innuendoes,  a  succession  of  questions 
asked  by  Phoebe,  who  retired,  whenever  she  had 
made  her  remark,  with  conscious  looks  and  pink 
blushes,  perpetually  renewed  this  delightful  subject. 
The  unlucky  young  man  retired  upon  Tozer.  In 
desperation  he  laid  himself  open  to  the  less  trouble- 
some infliction  of  the  butterman's  advice.  In  the 
mean  time  the  table  was  spread,  and  supper  appeared 
in  most  substantial  and  savoury  shape  ;  the  only 
drawback  being,  that  whenever  the  door  was  opened, 
the  odours  of  bacon  and  cheese  from  the  shop  came 
in  like  a  musty  shadow  of  the  boiled  ham  and  hot 
sausages  within. 

"  I  am  very  partial  to  your  style,  Mr  Vincent," 
said  the  deacon;  "there's  just  one  thing  I'd  like  to 
observe,  sir,  if  you'll  excuse  me.  I'd  give  'em  a 
coorse ;  there's  nothing  takes  like  a  coorse  in  our 
connection.  Whether  it's  on  a  chapter  or  a  book  of 
Scripture,  or  on  a  perticklar.  doctrine,  I'd  make  a 
pint  of  giving  'em  a  coorse  if  it  was  me.  There  was 
Mr  Bailey,  of  Parson's  Green,  as  was  so  popular 
before  he  married — he  had  a  historical  coorse  in  the 
evenings,  and  a  coorse  upon  the  eighth  of  Eomans  in 


04  CHBONICLBS  OF  CAKUXGFORD: 

the  morning  ;  and  it  was  astonishing  to  see  how  they 
took.  I  walked  over  many  and  many's  the  summer 
evening  myself)  he  kep'  iip  tlie  interest  so.  There 
ain'1  a  cleverer  man  in  our  body,  nor  wasn't  a  better 
liked  as  he  was  then." 

■■  And  now  I  understand  he's  gone  away — what 
ili"  iva<nn?"  asked  Mr  Vincent. 

Tozer  si  1  rugged  his  shoulders  and  shook  his  head. 
"  All  along  of  the  women  :  they  didn't  like  his  wife  ; 
and  my  own  opinion  is,  he  fell  off  dreadful.  Last 
time  I  heard  him,  I  made  up  my  mind  I'd  never  go 
back  again — me  that  was  such  an  admirer  of  his; 
and  the  managers  found  the  chapel  was  falling  off, 
and  a  deputation  waited  on  him  ;  and,  to  be  sure,  he 
saw  it  his  duty  to  go." 

"  And,  oh,  she  was  so  sweetly  pretty  !"  cried  Miss 
Phoebe:  "hut  pray,  pray,  Mr  Vincent,  don't  look  so 
pale  [f  you  many  a  pretty  lady,  we'll  all  be  so 
kind  to  her!  We  shan't  grudge  her  our  minister; 
we  shall " 

Here  Miss  Phoebe  paused,  overcome  by  her  emo- 
tions. 

"  I  do  declare  there  never  was  such  a  child,"  said 
Mrs  Tozer:  "it's  none  of  your  business,  Phcebe. 
She's  a  great  deal  to,,  feelin',  Mr  Vincent.  But  I 
don't  approve,  lor  my  part,  of  a  minister  marrying  a 
lady  as  is  too  grand  for  her  place,  whatever  Phoebe 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  65 

may  say.  It's  her  that  should  teach  suchlike  as  us 
humility  and  simple  ways ;  and  a  fine  lady  isn't  no 
way  suitable.  Not  to  discourage  you,  Mr  Vincent, 
I  haven't  a  doubt,  for  my  part,  that  you'll  make  a 
nice  choice." 

"  I  have  not  the  least  intention  of  trying  the  ex- 
periment," said  poor  Vincent,  with  a  faint  smile  ; 
then,  turning  to  his  deacon,  he  plunged  into  the  first 
subject  that  occurred  to  him.  "  Do  you  know  a  Mrs 
Hilyard  in  Back  Grove  Street?"  asked  the  young 
minister.  "  I  went  to  see  her  the  other  day.  "Who 
is  she,  or  where  does  she  belong  to,  can  you  tell  me  ? 
— and  which  of  your  great  ladies  in  Carlingford  is 
it,"  he  added,  with  a  little  catching  of  his  breath  after 
a  momentary  pause,  "  who  visits  that  poor  lady  ?  I 
saw  a  carriage  at  her  door." 

"  Meaning  the  poor  woman  at  the  back  of  the 
chapel?"  said  Tozer — "I  don't  know  nothing  of  her, 
except  that  I  visited  there,  sir,  as  you  might  do,  in 
the  way  of  dooty.  Ah !  I  fear  she's  in  the  gall  of 
bitterness,  Mr  Vincent ;  she  didn't  take  my  'umble 
advice,  sir,  not  as  a  Christian  ought.  But  she  comes 
to  the  chapel  regular  enough  ;  and  you  may  be  the 
means  of  putting  better  thoughts  into  her  mind  ;  and 
as  for  our  great  ladies  in  Carlingford,"  continued  Mr 
Tozer,  with  the  air  of  an  authority,  "  never  a  one  of 
them,  I  give  you  my  word,  would  go  out  of  her  way 

VOL.   I.  e 


66  CHBONK  '  l  -   OF   l   \K'  INGFORD  : 

a-\isit Iiil:  to  one  of  the  chapel  folks.  They're  a  deal 
too  bigoted  for  that,  especially  them  at  St  Roque's." 

I  »h.  Pa,  how  can  you  say  so/' cried  Phoebe,  "when 
it's  wry  will  known  the  ladies  go  everywhere,  where 
the  people  are  very,  very  poor?  but  then  Mr  Vincent 
aaid  a  poor  lady.  Was  it  a  nice  carriage?  The  Miss 
Wbdehousea  always  walk,  and  so  does  Mrs  Glen, 
and  all  the  Strangeways.  Oh,  I  know!  it  was  the 
young  Dowager — that  pretty,  pretty  lady,  you  know, 
mamma,  that  gives  the  grand  parties,  and  lives  in 
Grange  Lane.  I  saw  her  carriage  going  up  the 
lane  by  the  chapel  once.  Oh,  "S\r  Vincent,  wasn't 
ahe  very,  very  pretty,  with  blue  eyes  and  brown 
hair?" 

"I  could  not  tell  you  what  kind  of  eyes  and  hair 
they  were*'  said  Mr  Vincent,  trying  hard  to  speak 
indifferently,  and  <[iiitc  succeeding  so  far  as  Phcebe 
i  was    concerned  ;    for   who   could  venture   to 

associate  the  minister  of  Salem,  even  as  a  victim,  with 
the  brighl  eyes  of  Lady  Western?  "I  thought  it 
strange  to  see  her  there,  whoever  she  was." 

"Oh,  how  in  ensible  yon  are  S"  murmured  Phoebe, 
across  the  table.  Perhaps,  considering  all  things,  it 
was  not  strange  thai  Phoebe  should  imagine  her  own 
pink  bloom  to  have  dimmed  the  young  pastor's  appre- 
ciation of  other  beauty. 

"But  it  was  Mrs  Hilyard  T  inquired  about,  and  not 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  67 

this  Lady — Lady  what,  Miss  Phoebe?"  asked  the 
reverend  hypocrite ;  "I  don't  profess  to  be  learned 
in  titles,  but  hers  is  surely  a  strange  one.  I  thought 
dowager  was  another  word  for  an  old  woman." 

"  She's  a  beautiful  young  creature,"  broke  in  the 
butterman.  "  I  mayn't  approve  of  such  goings-on, 
but  I  can't  shut  my  eyes.  She  deals  with  me  regular, 
and  I  can  tell  you  the  shop  looks  like  a  different  place 
when  them  eyes  of  hers  are  in  it.  She's  out  of  our 
line,  and  she's  out  of  your  line,  Mr  Vincent,"  added 
Tozer,  apologetically,  coming  down  from  his  sudden 
enthusiasm,  "  or  T  mightn't  say  as  much  as  I  do  say, 
for  she's  gay,  and  always  a-giving  parties,  and  spend- 
ing her  life  in  company,  as  I  don't  approve  of ;  but 
to  look  in  her  face,  you  couldn't  say  a  word  against 
her — nor  I  couldn't.  She  might  lead  a  man  out  of 
his  wits,  and  I  wouldn't  not  to  say  blame  him.  If 
the  ano-els  are  nicer  to  look  at,  it's  a  wonder  to  me !  " 
Having  reached  to  this  pitch  of  admiration,  the 
alarmed  butterman  came  to  a  sudden  pause,  looked 
round  him  somewhat  dismayed,  wiped  his  forehead, 
rubbed  his  hands,  and  evidently  felt  that  he  had 
committed  himself,  and  was  at  the  mercy  of  his 
audience.  Little  did  the  guilty  Tozer  imagine  that 
never  before — not  when  giving  counsel  upon  cha- 
pel business  in  the  height  of  wisdom,  or  compli- 
menting the  sermon  as  only  a  chapel-manager,  feeling 


68  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLIXGFORD  : 

in  his  heart  thai  the  b<  ftts  were  letting,  could — had 

much  to  llif  purpose  in  young  Vincent's 

hearing,  or  won  bo  mnch  sympathy  from  the  minister. 

As  for  the  female  part  of  the  company,  they  were  at 
first  l""  mnch  amazed  for  speech..  "Upon  my  word, 
Papal "'  bursl  from  the  lips  of  the  half-laughing,  half- 
angry  Phoebe.  Mrs  Tozer,  who  had  been  cutting 
"bread  with  a  large  knife,  hewed  at  her  great  loaf 
in  silence,  and  not  till  that  occupation  was  over 
divulged  her  sentiments. 

"Some  bread,  Mr  Vincent?"  said  at  last  that  in- 
jured woman :  "  that's  how  it  is  with  all  you  men. 
Niver  a  one,  however  you  may  have  been  brought 
up,  nor  whatever  pious  ways  you  may  have  been 
used  to,  can  stand  out  against  a  pretty  face.  Thank 
goodness,  we  know  bel  ter.  Beauty's  but  skin-deep, 
Mr  Vincent ;  and,  for  my  part,  I  can't  see  the  differ- 
ence between  one  pair  o'  eyes  and  another.  I  dare- 
say I  see  as  well  tail  of  mine  as  Lady  Western  does 
out  o'  hers,  though  Tozer  goes  on  about  'em.  It's  a 
mercy  for  the  world,  women  ain't  carried  away  so  ; 
and  to  hear  a  man  as  is  the  father  of  a  family,  and 
ought  to  set  an  example,  a-talking  like  this  in  his 
own  house!  Whal  is  the  minister  to  think,  Tozer ? 
and  Phoebe,  a  girl  as  is  as  likely  to  take  up  notions 
about  her  looks  as  most  ?  It's  what  I  didn't  expect 
from  you." 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  69 

"  La,  mamma !  as  if  there  was  any  likeness  between 
Lady  Western  and  me  !  "  cried  Phcebe,  lifting  a  not- 
unexpectant  face  across  the  table.  But  Mr  Yincent 
was  not  equal  to  the  occasion.  In  that  locale,  and 
under  these  circumstances,  a  tolerable  breadth  of 
compliment  would  not  have  shocked  anybody's  feel- 
ings ;  but  the  pastor  neglected  his  opportunities. 
He  sat  silent,  and  made  no  reply  to  Phoebe's  look. 
He  even  at  this  moment,  if  truth  must  be  told, 
devoted  himself  to  the  well-filled  plate  which  Mrs 
Tozer's  hospitality  had  set  before  him.  He  would 
fain  have  made  a  diversion  in  poor  Tozer's  favour  had 
anything  occurred  to  him  in  the  thrill  of  sudden  ex- 
citement which  Tozer's  declaration  had  surprised  liim 
into.  As  it  was,  tingling  with  anxiety  to  hear  more 
of  that  unknown  enchantress,  whose  presence  made 
sunshine  even  in  the  butterman's  shop,  no  indifferent 
words  would  find  their  way  to  Vincent's  lips.  So  he 
bestowed  his  attentions  instead  upon  the  comfortable 
supper  to  which  everybody  around  him,  quite  unex- 
cited  by  this  little  interlude,  was  doing  full  justice, 
and,  not  venturing  to  ask,  listened  with  a  palpitating 
heart. 

"  You  see,  Mr  Yincent,"  resumed  Mrs  Tozer,  "  that 
title  of  '  the  young  Dowager '  has  been  given  to  Lady 
Western  by  them  as  is  her  chief  friends  in  Carling- 
ford.     Such  little  things  comes  to  our  knowledge  as 


70  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

they  mightn'1  come  to  otheT  folks  in  our  situation,  by 

us  sci'viiiL'  the  ltcsi  families.  There's  but  two  fami- 
lies  in  Grange  Lane  as  don't  deal  with  Tozer,  and  one 
of  them  'a  a  new-comer  as  knows  no  better,  and  the 
other  a  Btingy  old  bachelor,  as  we  wouldn't  go  across 
tlir  road  to  get  his  custom.  A  well-kept  house  must 
have  its  butter,  and  its  cheese,  and  its  ham  regular; 
but  when  there's  hut  a  man  and  a  maid,  and  them 
nigh  as  bilious  as  the  master,  and  picking  bits  of 
cheese  as  one  never  heard  the  name  of,  and  as  has  to 
be  sent  to  town  for,  or  to  the  Italian  shop,  it  stands 
to  reason  neither  me  nor  Tozer  cares  for  a  customer 
like  that." 

"  Oh,  Ma,  what  does  Mr  Vincent  care  about  the 
customers?"  cried  Phoebe,  in  despair. 

"He  might,  then,  before  all's  done,"  said  the  deacon- 
"We  couldn't  he  as  good  friends  t<>  the  chapel, 
nor  as  serviceable,  nor  as  well  thought  on  in  our  con- 
nection, if  it  wasn't  Cot  the  customers.  So  you  see, 
sir,  Lady  Western,  she's  a  young  lady  not  a  deal 
older  than  my  Phoebe,  but  by  reason  of  having 
married  an  old  man,  she  has  a  step-son  twice  as  old 
as  herself,  and  he's  married;  and  so  this  gay  pretty 
creature  here,  she's  the  Dowager  Lady  Western.  I've 
seen  her  with  yonmj  Lady  Western,  her  step-daughter- 
in-law,  and  young  Lady  Western  was  a  deal  older, 
and  more  serious -looking,  and  knew  twenty  times 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  71 

more  of  life  than  the  Dowager — and  you  may  be  sure 
she  don't  lose  the  opportunity  to  laugh  at  it  neither — 
and  so  that's  how  the  name  arose." 

"  Thank  you  for  the  explanation ;  and  I  suppose, 
of  course,  she  lives  in  Grange  Lane,"  said  the  pastor, 
still  Lending  with  devotion  over  his  plate. 

"  Dear,  dear,  you  don't  eat  nothink,  Mr  Vincent," 
cried  his  benevolent  hostess  ;  "  that  comes  of  study, 
as  I'm  always  a-telling  Tozer.  A  deal  better,  says  I, 
to  root  the  minister  out,  and  get  him  to  move  about 
for  the  good  of  his  health,  than  to  put  him  up  to  ser- 
mons and  coorses,  when  we're  all  as  pleased  as  Punch 
to  start  with.  She  lives  in  I  {-range  Lane,  to  be  sure, 
as  they  most  all  do  as  is  anything  in  Carlingford. 
Fashion's  all — but  I  like  a  bit  of  stir  and  life  myself, 
and  couldn't  a-bear  them  close  walls.  But  it  would 
be  news  in  Salem  that  we  was  spending  our  precious 
time  a-talking  over  a  lady  like  Lady  Western ;  and 
as  for  the  woman  at  the  back  of  the  chapel,  don't  you 
be  led  away  to  go  to  everybody  as  Mrs  Brown  sends 
you  to,  Mr  Vincent.  She's  a  good  soul,  but  she's 
always  a-picking  up  somebody.  Tozer's  been  called 
up  at  twelve  o'clock,  when  we  were  all  a-bed,  to  see 
somebody  as  was  dying;  and  there  was  no  dying 
about  it,  but  only  Mrs  Brown's  way.  My  son,  being 
at  his  eddication  for  a  minister,  makes  me  feel  mother- 
like  to  a  young  pastor,  Mr  Vincent.     I'd  be  grateful 


72  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLIXGFORD  : 

to  anybody  as  would  give  my  boy  warning  when  it 
comes  tn  be  his  time." 

"I  almost  wonder,"  said  Vincent,  with  a  little 
oatara]  impatience,  "that  you  did  not  struggle  on 
with  Mr  Tuft  on  for  a  little  longer,  till  your  son's 
education  was  finished." 

Mrs  Tozer  held  up  her  head  with  gratified  pride. 
"  He'll  be  two  years  before  he's  ready,  and  there's 
never  no  telling  what  may  happen  in  that  time,"  said 
the  pleased  mother,  forgetting  how  little  favourable 
to  her  guest  was  any  anticipated  contingency.  The 
words  were  very  innocently  spoken,  but  they  had 
tln'ir  effect  upon  Vincent.  He  made  haste  to  ex- 
tricate himself  from  the  urgent  hospitality  which 
surrounded  him.  He  was  deafer  than  ever  to  Miss 
Phoebe's  remarks,  and  listened  with  a  little  im- 
patience to  Tozer's  wisdom.  As  soon  as  he  could 
manage  it,  he  left  them,  with  abundant  material  for 
his  thoughts.  "There's  never  no  telling  what  may 
happen  in  thai  time,"  rang  in  his  ears  as  he  crossed 
George  Street  to  his  lodging,  and  the  young  minister 
could  scarcely  check  the  disgust  and  impatience 
which  were  rising  in  his  mind.  In  all  the  pride  of 
his  young  intellect,  to  be  advised  by  Tozer — to  have 
warning  stories  told  him  of  that  unfortunate  brother 
in  Parson's  Green,  whose  pretty  wife  made  herself 
obnoxious  to  the  deacons'  wives — to  have  the  support 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  73 

afforded  by  the  butterman  to  the  chapel  thrown  in 
his  face  with  such  an  undisguised  claim  upon  his 
gratitude — oh  heaven,  was  this  what  Homerton  was 
to  come  to?  Perhaps  he  had  been  brought  here,  in 
all  the  young  Hush  of  his  hopes,  only  to  have  the  life 
crushed  out  of  him  by  those  remorseless  chapel- 
managers,  and  room  made  over  his  tarnished  fame 
and  mortified  expectations — over  his  body,  as  the 
young  man  said  to  himself  in  unconscious  heroics 
— for  young  Tozer's  triumphant  entrance.  On  the 
whole,  it  was  not  to  be  supposed  1 1  ml  to  see  himself 
at  the  mercy  of  such  a  limited  and  jealous  coterie — 
people  proud  of  their  liberality  to  the  chapel,  and 
altogether  unable  to  comprehend  the  feelings  of  a 
sensitive  and  cultivated  mind — could  bean  agreeable 
prospect  to  the  young  man.  Their  very  approbation 
chafed  him  ;  and  if  he  went  beyond  their  level,  or 
exceeded  their  narrow  limit,  what  mercy  was  he  to 
expect,  whai  justice,  what  measure  of  comprehension  1 
He  went  home  with  a  bitterness  of  disgust  in  his 
mind  far  more  intense  and  tragical  than  appeared  to 
be  at  all  necessary  in  the  circumstances,  and  which 
only  the  fact  that  this  was  his  first  beginning  in  real 
life,  and  that  bis  imagination  had  never  contemplated 
the  prominent  position  of  the  butter-shop  and  the 
Devonshire  Dairy,  in  what  he  fondly  called  his  new 
sphere,  could  have  justified.     Perhaps  no  new  sphere 


71  (  HBONICLBS   OF   I  AHLINGFORD  : 

ever  came  up  to  the  expectations  of  the  neophyte; 
but  to  come,  if  not  with  too  much  gospel,  yet  with 
an  intellectual  Christian  mission,  an  evangelist  of 
refined  nonconformity,  an  apostle  of  thought  and 
religious  opinion,  and  to  sink  suddenly  into  "coorses" 
of  sermons  and  statistics  of  seat-letting  in  Salem — 
into  tea-parties  of  deacons'  wives,  and  singing-classes 
— into  the  complacent  society  of  those  good  people 
who  were  conscious  of  doing  so  much  for  the  chapel 
and  supporting  the  minister — that  wTas  a  downfall 
not  to  be  lightly  thought  of.  Salem  itself,  and  the 
new  pulpit,  which  had  a  short  time  ago  represented 
to  poor  Vincent  that  tribune  from  which  he  was  to 
iniluence  the  world,  that  point  of  vantage  which  was 
all  a  true  man  needed  for  the  making  of  his  career, 
dwindled  into  a  miserable  scene  of  trade  before  his 
disenchanted  eyes — a  preaching  shop,  where  his 
success  was  Ik  be,  measured  by  the  seat-letting,  and 
his  soul  decanted  out  into  periodical  issue  under  the 
seal  nl'  Tn/.er  &  Co.  Such,  alas  !  were  the  indignant 
tin m-his  with  which,  the  old  Adam  rising  bitter  and 
Strong  within  bin,,  the  young  Nonconformist  hastened 
home. 

And  She  was  Lady  Western  —  the  gayest  and 
brightest  and  highest  luminary  in  all  the  society  of 
(  ai  lingford.     As  well  love  the  moon,  who  no  longer 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  75 

descends  to  Endymion,  as  lift  presumptuous  eyes  to 
that  sweeter  planet  which  was  as  much  out  of  reach 
of  the  Dissenting  minister.  Poor  fellow !  his  room 
did  not  receive  a  very  cheerful  inmate  when  he  shut 
the  door  upon  the  world  and  sat  down  with  his 
thoughts. 


CHAPTER    V. 


It  was  about  this  time,  when  Mr  Vincent  was  deeply 
cast  down  about  his  prospects,  and  saw  little  comfort 
before  or  around  him,  and  when,  consequently,  an 
interest  apart  from  himself,  and  which  could  detach 
his  thoughts  from  Salem  and  its  leading  members, 
was  of  importance,  that  his  mother's  letters  began  to 
grow  specially  interesting.  Vincent  could  not  quite 
explain  how  it  was,  but  unquestionably  those  female 
epistles  had  expanded  all  at  once;  and  instead  of 
the  limited  household  atmosphere  hitherto  breathing 
in  them — an  atmosphere  confined  by  the  strait  cottage 
walls,  shutting  in  the  little  picture  which  the  absent 
son  knew  so  well,  and  in  which  usually  no  figure 
appeared  but  those  of  his  pretty  sister  Susan,  and 
their  little  servant,  and  a  feminine  neighbour  or  two 
— instead  of  those  strict  household  limits,  the  world, 
as  we  have  said,  had  expanded  round  the  widow's 
pen ;  the  cottage  Avails  or  windows  seemed  to  have 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  77 

opened  out  to  disclose  the  universe  beyond  :  life  itself, 
and  words  the  symbols  of  life,  seemed  quickened  and 
running  in  a  fuller  current ;  and  the  only  apparent 
reason  for  all  this  revolution  was  that  one  new  ac- 
quaintance had  interrupted  Mrs  Vincent's  seclusion, 
— one  only  visitor,  who,  from  an  unexpected  call, 
recorded  with  some  wonderment  a  month  or  two 
before,  had  gained  possession  of  the  house  apparently, 
and  was  perpetually  referred  to — by  Susan,  in  her 
gradually  shortening  letters,  with  a  certain  timidity 
and  reluctance  to  pronounce  his  name;  by  the  mother 
with  growing  frequency  and  confidence.  Vincent,  a 
little  jealous  of  this  new  influence,  had  out  of  the 
depths  of  his  own  depression  written  with  some  im- 
patience to  ask  who  this  Mr  Fordham  was,  and  how  he 
had  managed  to  establish  himself  so  confidentially  in 
the  cottage,  when  his  mother's  letter  astounded  him 
with  the  following  piece  of  news  : — 

"  My  dearest  Boy, — Mr  Fordham  is,  or  at  least 
will  be — or,  if  I  must  be  cautious,  as  your  poor  dear 
papa  always  warned  me  I  should — wishes  very  much, 
and  I  hope  will  succeed  in  being — your  brother,  my 
own  Arthur.  This  is  sudden  news,  but  you  know, 
and  I  have  often  told  you,  that  a  crisis  always  does 
seem  to  arrive  suddenly  ;  however  much  you  may 
have  been  looking  for  it,  or  making  up  your  mind  to 


78  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

it.  it  does  come  like  a  blow  at  the  time;  and  no 
doubl  there  is  something  in  human  nature  to  account 
for  it,  if  T  was  a  philosopher,  like  your  dear  papa  and 
vuii.  Yea,  my  dear  boy,  that  is  how  it  is.  Of  course, 
I  have  known  for  some  time  past  that  he  must  have 
had  a  motive — no  mother  could  long  remain  ignor- 
ant of  that;  and  I  can't  say  hut  what,  liking  Mr 
Fordham  so  much,  and  seeing  him  every  way  so  un- 
exceptionable,, except,  perhaps,  in  the  way  of  means, 
which  we  know  nothing  about,  and  which  I  have  al- 
ways thought  a  secondary  consideration  to  character, 
as  I  always  brought  up  1113-  children  to  think,  I  was 
very  much  pleased.  For  you  know,  my  dear  boy, 
life  is  uncertain  with  the  strongest  ;  and  I  am  be- 
coming an  old  woman,  and  you  will  marry  no  doubt, 
and  what  is  to  become  of  Susan  unless  she  does  the 
same?  So  I  confess  T  was  pleased  to  see  Mr  Ford- 
ham's  inclinations  showing  themselves.  And  now, 
dear  Arthur,  T've  given  them  my  blessing,  and  they 
are  as  happy  as  ever  they  can  be,  and  nothing  is 
wanting  to  Susan's  joy  but  your  sympathy.  I  need 
not  suggest  to  my  dear  boy  to  write  a  few  words  to 
his  sister  to  make  her  fool  that  he  shares  our  hap- 
piness ;  for  Providence  has  blessed  me  in  affectionate 
children,  and  I  can  trust  the  instincts  of  my  Arthur's 
heart ;  and  oh  !  my  dear  son,  how  thankful  I  ought 
to  be,  and  how  deeply  I  ought  to  feel  God's  blessings ! 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  79 

He  has  been  a  father  to  the  fatherless,  and  the 
strength  of  the  widow.  To  think  that  before  old  age 
comes  upon  me,  and  while  I  am  still  able  to  enjoy  the 
sight  of  your  prosperity,  I  should  have  the  happiness 
of  seeing  you  comfortably  settled,  and  in  the  way  to 
do  your  Master's  work,  and  make  yourself  a  good 
position,  and  Susan  so  happily  provided  for,  and  in- 
stead of  losing  her,  a  new  son  to  love — indeed,  I  am 
overpowered,  and  can  scarcely  hold  up  my  head  under 
my  blessings. 

"  Write  immediately,  my  dearest  boy,  that  we  may 
have  the  comfort  of  your  concurrence  and  sympathy, 
and  I  am  always,  with  much  love, 

"  My  Arthur's  loving  mother, 

"  E.  S.  Vincent. 

"  P.S. — Mr  Fordham's  account  of  his  circum- 
stances seems  quite  satisfactory.  He  is  not  in  any 
profession,  but  has  enough,  he  says,  to  live  on  very 
comfortably,  and  is  to  give  me  more  particulars 
afterwards  ;  which,  indeed,  I  am  ashamed  to  think 
he  could  imagine  necessary,  as  it  looks  like  want  of 
trust,  and  as  if  Susan's  happiness  was  not  the  first 
thing  with  us — but  indeed  I  must  learn  to  be  prudent 
and  self-interested  for  your  sakes." 

It  was  with  no  such  joyful  feelings  as  his  mother's 
that  Vincent  read  this  letter.     Perhaps  it  was  the 


80  CHRONICLES   OF   CAELINGFORD: 

jealousy  with  which  he  had  heard  of  this  unknown 
Mr  Fordham  suddenly  jumping  into  the  friendship 
of  the  cottage,  which  made  him  contemplate  with 
a  most  glum  and  suspicious  aspect  the  stranger's 
promotion  into  the  love  of  Susan,  and  the  motherly 
regard  of  Airs  Vincent.  Hang  the  fellow!  who  was 
he  ?  the  young  minister  murmured  over  his  spoiled 
breakfast :  and  there  appeared  to  him  in  a  halo  of 
sweet  memories,  as  he  had  never  seen  them  in  reality, 
the  simple  graces  of  his  pretty  sister,  who  was  as 
much  above  the  region  of  the  Phcebe  Tozers  as  that 
ineffable  beauty  herself  who  had  seized  with  a  glance 
the  vacant  throne  of  poor  Arthur  Vincent's  heart. 
There  was  nothing  ineffable  about  Susan — but  her 
brother  had  seen  no  man  even  in  Homerton  whom 
he  would  willingly  see  master  of  her  affections  ;  and 
he  was  equally  startled,  dissatisfied,  and  alarmed  by 
this  information.  Perhaps  his  mother's  unworldliness 
was  excessive.  He  imagined  that  he  would  have  ex- 
acted more  positive  information  about  the  fortunes  of 
a  stranger  who  had  suddenly  appeared  without  any 
special  business  there,  who  had  no  profession,  and 
who  might  disappear  lightly  as  he  came,  breaking 
poor  Susan's  heart.  Mr  Vincent  forgot  entirely  the 
natural  process  by  which,  doubtless,  his  mother's 
affections  had  been  wooed  and  won  as  well  as  Susan's. 
To  him  it  was  a  stranger  who  had  crept  into  the 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  81 

house,  and  gained  ascendancy  there.  Half  in  concern 
for  Susan,  half  in  jealousy  for  Susan's  brother  eclipsed, 
but  believing  himself  to  be  entirely  actuated  by  the 
former  sentiment, the  young  minister  "wrote  his  mother 
a  hurried,  anxious,  not  too  good-tempered  note,  beg- 
ging her  to  think  how  important  a  matter  this  was, 
and  not  to  come  to  too  rapid  a  conclusion  ;  and  after 
he  had  thus  relieved  his  feelings,  went  out  to  his  day's 
work  in  a  more  than  usually  uncomfortable  frame  of 
mind.  Mra  Vincent  congratulated  herself  upon  her 
son  s  happy  settlement,  as  well  as  upon  her  daughter's 
engagement.  What  if  Mr  Fordham  should  turn  out 
as  unsatisfactory  as  Salem  Chapel  ?  His  day's  work 
was  a  round  of  visits,  which  were  not  very  particu- 
larly to  Mr  Vincent's  mind.  It  was  the  day  for  his 
weekly  call  upon  Mr  Tufton  and  various  other  mem- 
bers of  the  congregation  not  more  attractive  ;  and  at 
Siloam  Cottage  he  was  reminded  of  Mrs  Hilyard, 
whom  he  had  not  seen  again.  Here  at  least  was 
something  to  be  found  different  from  the  ordinary 
level.  He  went  up  to  Back  Grove  Street,  not  with- 
out a  vague  expectation  in  his  mind,  wondering  ii 
that  singular  stranger  would  look  as  unlike  the  rest 
of  his  flock  to-day  as  she  had  done  on  the  former 
occasion.  But  when  Vincent  emerged  into  the  narrow 
street,  what  was  that  unexpected  object  which  threw 
the  young  man  into  such  sudden  agitation  ?   His  step 

VOL    I.  F 


82  CHBONII  LE8    <)F   CARLINGFORD  : 

quickened  unconsciously  into  the  rapid  silent  stride 
of  excitement.  He  was  at  the  shabby  door  before 
any  of  the  onlookers  had  so  much  as  perceived  him 
in  the  street.  For  once  more  the  narrow  pavement 
owned  a  little  tattered  crowd  gazing  at  the  pawing 
horses,  the  big  footman,  the  heavenly  chariot ;  and 
doubtless  the  celestial  visitor  must  be  within. 

Mr  Vincent  did  not  pause  to  think  whether  he 
ought  to  disturb  the  interview  which,  no  doubt,  was 
going  on  up-stairs.  He  left  himself  no  time  to  con- 
sider punctilios,  or'  even  to  think  what  was  right  in 
the  matter.  He  went  up  with  that  swell  of  excite- 
ment somehow  winging  his  feet  and  making  his  foot- 
steps light.  How  sweet  that  low  murmur  of  conver- 
sation within  as  he  reached  the  door?  Another 
moment,  and  Mrs  Ililyard  herself  opened  it,  looking 
out  with  some  surprise,  her  dark  thin  head,  in  its 
black  lace  kerchief,  standing  out  against  the  bit  of 
shabby  dial i-coloured  wall  visible  through  the  open- 
ing of  the  door.  A  look  of  surprise  for  one  moment, 
then  a  gleam  of  something  like  mirth  lighted  in  the 
dark  eyes,  and  the  thin  lines  about  her  mouth  moved, 
though  no  smile  came.  "  It  is  you,  Mr  Vincent  ? — 
come  in,"  she  said.  "  I  should  not  have  admitted 
any  other  visitor,  but  you  shall  come  in,  as  you  are 
my  ghostly  adviser.  Sit  down.  My  dear,  this  gentle- 
man is  my  minister  and  spiritual  guide/' 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  83 

And  She,  sitting  there  in  all  her  splendour,  casting 
extraordinary  lights  of  beauty  round  her  upon  the 
mean  apartment,  perfuming  the  air  and  making  it 
musical  with  that  rustle  of  woman's  robes  which  had 
never  been  out  of  poor  Vincent's  ears  since  he  saw 
her  first ; — She  lifted  her  lovely  face,  smiled,  and 
bowed  her  beautiful  head  to  the  young  man,  who 
could  have  liked  to  go  down  on  his  knees,  not  to  ask 
anything,  but  simply  to  worship.  As  he  dared  not 
do  that,  he  sat  clown  awkwardly  upon  the  chair  Mrs 
Hilyard  pointed  to,  and  said,  with  embarrassment, 
that  he  feared  he  had  chosen  a  wrong  time  for  his 
visit,  and  would  return  again — but  nevertheless  did 
not  move  from  where  he  was. 

"  ~No,  indeed  ;  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you.  My 
visitors  are  not  so  many,  nowadays,  that  I  can  afford 
to  turn  one  from  the  door  because  another  chooses  to 
come  the  same  day.  My  dear,  you  understand  Mr 
Vincent  has  had  the  goodness  to  take  charge  of  my 
spiritual  affairs,"  said  the  mistress  of  the  room,  sit- 
ting down,  in  her  dark  poor  dress,  beside  her  beauti- 
ful visitor,  and  laying  her  thin  hands,  still  marked 
with  traces  of  the  coarse  blue  colour  which  rubbed 
off  her  work,  and  of  the  scars  of  the  needle,  upon  the 
table  where  that  work  lay.  "  Thank  heaven  that's  a 
luxury  the  poorest  of  us  needs  not  deny  herself.  I 
liked  your  sermon  last  Sunday,  Mr  Vincent.     That 


84  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLISTGF0RD  : 

about  the  fashion  of  treating  serious  things  with 
levity,  was  meant  for  me.  Oh,  I  didn't  dislike  it, 
thank  you  !  One  is  pleased  to  think  one's  self  of  so 
much  consequence.  There  are  more  ways  of  keeping 
up  one's  amowr propre  than  your  way,  my  lady.  Now, 
don't  you  mean  to  go?  You  see  I  cannot  possibly  un- 
burden my  mind  to  Mr  Vincent  while  you  are  here." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  anything  so  rude  % "  said  the 
beauty,  turning  graciously  to  the  young  minister. 
"  You  call  me  a  great  lady,  and  all  sorts  of  things, 
Eachel ;  but  I  never  could  be  as  rude  as  you  are, 
and  as  you  always  were  as  long  as  I  remember/' 

"My  dear,  the  height  of  good-breeding  is  to  be 
perfectly  ill-bred  when  one  pleases,"  said  Mrs  Hil- 
yard,  taking  her  work  upon  her  knee  and  putting  on 
her  thimble:  "but  though  you  are  wonderfully  pretty, 
you  never  had  the  makings  of  a  thorough  fine  lady 
in  you.  You  can't  help  trying  to  please  everybody 
— which,  indeed,  if  there  were  no  women  in  the 
world,"  added  that  sharp  observer,  with  a  sudden 
glance  at  Vincent,  who  saw  the  thin  lines  again  move 
about  her  mouth,  "you  might  easily  do  without 
giving  yourself  much  trouble.  Mr  Vincent,  if  this 
lady  won't  leave  us,  might  I  trouble  you  to  talk  ? 
For  two  strains  of  thought,  carried  on  at  the  same 
moment,  now  that  I'm  out  of  society,  are  too  exhaust- 
ing for  me." 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  85 

With  which  speech  she  gravely  pinned  her  work 
to  her  knee,  threaded  her  needle  with  a  long  thread 
of  blue  cotton,  and  began  her  work  with  the  utmost 
composure,  leaving  her  two  visitors  in  the  awkward 
tetc-a-tete  position  which  the  presence  of  a  third  per- 
son, entirely  absorbed  in  her  own  employment,  with 
eyes  and  face  abstracted,  naturally  produces.  Never 
in  his  life  had  Vincent  been  so  anxious  to  appear  to 
advantage — never  had  he  been  so  totally  deprived  of 
the  use  of  his  faculties.  His  eager  looks,  his  changing 
colour,  perhaps  interceded  for  him  with  the  beautiful 
stranger,  who  was  not  ignorant  of  those  signs  of  sub- 
jugation which  she  saw  so  often. 

"  I  think  it  was  you  that  were  so  good  as  to  clear 
the  way  for  me  the  last  time  I  was  here,"  she  said, 
with  the  sweetest  grace,  raising  those  lovely  eyes, 
which  put  even  Tozer  beside  himself,  to  the  unfortu- 
nate pastor's  face.  "  I  remember  fancying  you  must 
be  a  stranger  here,  as  I  had  not  seen  you  anywhere  in 
society.  Those  wonderful  little  wretches  never  seem 
to  come  to  any  harm.  They  always  appear  to  me  to 
be  scrambling  among  the  horses'  feet.  Fancy,  Eachel, 
one  of  those  boys  who  flourish  in  the  back  streets, 
with  such  rags — oh,  such  rags  ! — you  could  not  pos- 
sibly make  them,  if  you  were  to  try,  with  scissors — 
such  perfection  must  come  of  itself; — had  just  pushed 
in  before  me,  and  I  don't  know  what  I  should  have 


86        I  HE0NICLE8  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

done,  if  Mr (I  beg  your  pardon) — if  you  had 

not  cleared  the  way." 

"  Mr  Vincent,"  said  Mrs  Hilyard,  breaking  in  upon 
Vincent's  deprecation.  "  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  had 
somebody  to  help  you  in  such  a  delicate  distress. 
We  poor  women  can't  afford  to  be  so  squeamish. 
What !  are  you  going  away  ?  My  dear,  be  sure  you 
say  down-stairs  that  you  brought  that  poor  creature 
some  tea  and  sugar,  and  how  grateful  she  was.  That 
explains  everything,  you  know,  and  does  my  lady 
credit  at  the  same  time.  Good-bye.  Well,  I'll  kiss 
you  if  you  insist  upon  it ;  but  what  can  Mr  Vincent 
think  to  see  such  an  operation  performed  between 
us  ?  There !  my  love,  you  can  make  the  men  do 
what  you  like,  but  you  know  of  old  you  never  could 
conquer  me." 

"  Then  you  will  refuse  over  and  over  again — and 
you  don't  mind  what  I  say — and  you  know  he's  in 
Lonsdale,  and  why  he's  there,  and  all  about  him " 

"  Hush,"  said  the  dark  woman,  looking  all  the 
darker  as  she  stood  in  that  bright  creature's  shadow. 
"  I  know,  and  always  will  know,  wherever  he  goes, 
and  that  he  is  after  evil  wherever  he  goes ;  and  I 
refuse,  and  always  will  refuse  —  and  my  darling 
pretty  Alice,"  she  cried,  suddenly  going  up  with 
rapid  vehemence  to  the  beautiful  young  woman 
beside  her,  and  kissing  once  more  the  delicate  rose- 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  87 

cheek  to  which  her  own  made  so  great  a  contrast,  "  I 
dont  mind  in  the  least  what  you  say." 

"  Ah,  Eachel,  I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Lady 
Western,  looking  at  her  wistfully. 

"  You  never  did,  my  dear  ;  but  don't  forget  to 
mention  about  the  tea  and  sugar  as  you  go  down- 
stairs," said  Mrs  Hilyard,  subsiding  immediately,  not 
without  the  usual  gleam  in  her  eyes  and  movement 
of  her  mouth,  "  else  it  might  be  supposed  you  came 
to  have  your  fortune  told,  or  something  like  that ; 
and  I  wish  your  ladyship  bon  voyage,  and  no  en- 
counter with  ragged  boys  in  your  way.  Mr  Yin- 
cent,"  she  continued,  with  great  gravity,  standing  in 
the  middle  of  the  room,  when  Vincent,  trembling 
with  excitement,  afraid,  with  the  embarrassing  timid- 
ity of  inferior  position,  to  offer  his  services,  yet 
chafing  in  his  heart  to  be  obliged  to  stay,  reluctantly 
closed  the  door,  which  he  had  opened  for  Lady 
Western's  exit,  "  tell  me  why  a  young  man  of  your 
spirit  loses  such  an  opportunity  of  conducting  the 
greatest  beauty  in  Carlingford  to  her  carriage  ?  Sup- 
pose she  should  come  across  another  ragged  boy,  and 
faint  on  the  stairs  ? " 

"  I  should  have  been  only  too  happy  ;  but  as  I  am 
not  so  fortunate  as  to  know  Lady  Western,"  said  the 
young  minister,  hesitating,  "I  feared  to  presume " 

With  an  entirely  changed  aspect  his  strange  con- 


88        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLLNGFORD  : 

panion  interrupted  him.  "  Lady  Western  could  not 
Chink  thai  any  man  whom  she  met  in  my  house  pre- 
sumed in  offering  her  a  common  civility,"  said  Mrs 
Hilyard,  -with  the  air  of  a  duchess,  and  an  imperious 
gleam  out  of  her  dark  eyes.  Then  she  recollected 
herself,  gave  her  startled  visitor  a  comical  look,  and 
dropped  into  her  chair,  before  which  that  coarsest  of 
poor  needlewoman's  work  was  lying.  "  My  house  ! 
it  does  look  like  a  place  to  inspire  respect,  to  be 
sure,"  she  continued,  with  a  hearty  perception  of  the 
ludicrous,  which  Vincent  was  much  too  preoccupied 
to  notice.  "  What  fools  we  all  are !  but,  my  dear 
Mr  Vincent,  you  are  too  modest.  My  Lady  Western 
could  not  frown  upon  anybody  who  honoured  her 
with  such  a  rapt  observation.  Don't  fall  in  love 
with  her,  I  beg  of  you.  If  she  were  merely  a  flirt,  I 
shouldn't  mind,  but  out  of  her  very  goodness  she's 
dangerous.  She  can't  bear  to  give  pain  to  anybody, 
which  of  course  implies  that  she  gives  double  and 
treble  pain  when  the  time  comes.  There !  I've  warned 
you  ;  for  of  course  you'll  meet  again." 

"  Small  chance  of  that,"  said  Vincent,  who  had 
been  compelling  himself  to  remain  quiet,  and  re- 
straining his  impulse,  now  that  the  vision  had  de- 
parted, to  rush  away  out  of  the  impoverished  place. 
"  Small  chance  of  that,"  he  repeated,  drawing  a  long 
breath,  as  he  listened  with  intent  ears  to  the  roll 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  89 

of  the  carriage  which  carried  Her  away ;  "  society 
in  Carlingford  has  no  room  for  a  poor  Dissenting 
minister." 

"All  the  better  for  him,"  said  Mrs  Hilyard,  re- 
garding him  with  curious  looks,  and  discerning  with 
female  acutencss  the  haze  of  excitement  and  incipient 
passion  which  surrounded  him.     "  Society's  all  very 
well  for  people  who  have  been  brought  up  in  it ;  but 
for  a  young  recluse  like  you,  that  don't  know  the 
world,  it's  murder.  Don't  look  affronted.   The  reason 
is,  you  expect  too  much — twenty  times  more  than 
anybody  ever  finds.     But  you  don't  attend  to  my 
philosophy.     Thinking  of  your  sermon,  Mr  Vincent  ? 
And  how  is  our  friend  the  butterman  ?     I  trust  life 
begins  to  look  more  cheerful  to  you  under  his  advice." 
"Life?"  said  the  preoccupied  minister,  who  was 
gazing  at  the  spot  where  that  lovely  apparition  had 
been  ;  "  I  find  it  change  its  aspects  perpetually.   You 
spoke  of  Lonsdale  just  now,  did  you  not  ?    Is  it  pos- 
sible that  you  know  that  little  place  ?     My  mother 
and  sister  live  there." 

"  I  am  much  interested  to  know  that  you  have  a 
mother  and  sister,"  said  the  poor  needlewoman  before 
him,  looking  up  with  calm,  fine-lady  impertinence  in 
his  face.  "  But  you  did  not  hear  me  speak  of  Lons- 
dale ;  it  was  her  ladyship  who  mentioned  it.  As  for 
me,  I  interest  myself  in  what  is  going  on  close  by, 


90        CHBON10LB8  OF  OABLINOFOBD  : 

Mr  Vincent.  I  am  quite  absorbed  in  the  chapel ;  I 
want  to  know  how  you  get  on,  and  all  about  it.  I 
took  that  you  said  on  Sunday  about  levity  deeply  to 
heart.  I  entertain  a  fond  hope  that  you  will  see 
me  improve  under  your  ministrations,  even  though 
I  may  never  come  up  to  the  butterman's  standard. 
Some  people  have  too  high  an  ideal.  If  you  are  as 
much  of  an  optimist  as  your  respected  deacon,  I  fear 
it  will  be  ages  before  I  can  manage  to  make  you 
approve  of  me." 

Vincent's  wandering  thoughts  were  recalled  a  little 
by  this  attack.  "  I  hope,"  he  said,  rousing  himself, 
"  that  you  don't  think  me  so  inexperienced  as  not  to 
know  that  you  are  laughing  at  me  ?  But  indeed  I 
should  be  glad  to  believe  that  the  services  at  the 
chapel  might  sometimes  perhaps  be  some  comfort  to 
you,"  added  the  young  pastor,  assuming  the  dignity 
of  his  office.  He  met  his  penitent's  eyes  at  the  mo- 
ment, and  faltered,  moon-struck  as  he  was,  wonder- 
ing if  she  saw  through  and  through  him,  .and  knew 
that  he  was  neither  thinking  of  consolation  nor  of 
clerical  duties,  but  only  of  those  lingering  echoes 
which,  to  any  ears  but  his  own,  were  out  of  hearing. 
There  was  little  reason  to  doubt  the  acute  perceptions 
of  that  half-amused,  half-malicious  glance. 

"  Comfort ! "  she  cried  ;  "  what  a  very  strange 
suggestion  to  make  !     Why,  all  the  old  churches  in 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  91 

all  the  old  ages  have  offered  comfort.  I  thought  you 
new  people  had  something  better  to  give  us ;  enlight- 
enment," she  said,  with  a  gleam  of  secret  mockery, 
throwing  the  word  like  a  stone — "  religious  freedom, 
private  judgment.  Depend  upon  it,  that  is  the  role 
expected  from  you  by  the  butterman.  Comfort !  one 
has  that  in  Borne." 

"  You  never  can  have  that  but  in  conjunction  with 
truth,  and  truth  is  not  to  be  found  in  Eonie,"  said  Vin- 
cent, pricking  up  his  ears  at  so  familiar  a  challenge. 

"  We'll  not  argue,  though  you  do  commit  yourself 
by  an  assertion,"  said  Mrs  Hilyard;  "but  oh,  you 
innocent  young  man,  where  is  the  comfort  to  come 
from?  Comfort  will  not  let  your  seats  and  fill  your 
chapel,  even  granting  that  you  knew  how  to  com- 
municate it.  I  prefer  to  be  instructed,  for  my  part. 
You  are  just  at  the  age,  and  in  the  circumstances,  to 
do  that." 

"  I  fear  you  still  speak  in  jest,"  said  the  minister, 
with  some  doubt,  yet  a  little  gratification;  "but  I 
shall  be  only  too  happy  to  have  been  the  means  of 
throwing  any  light  to  you  upon  the  doctrines  of  our 
faith." 

For  a  moment  the  dark  eyes  gleamed  with  some- 
thing like  laughter.  But  there  was  nothing  ill- 
natured  in  the  amusement  with  which  Iris  strange 
new  friend  contemplated  the  young  pastor  in  the 


92        CHBONIOLES  OF  CARLIXGFOUD  : 

depressions  and  confidences  of  his  youth.  She  an- 
swered with  a  mock  gravity  which,  at  that  moment, 
he  was  by  no  means  clear-sighted  enough  to  see 
through. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  demurely,  "  be  sure  you  take 
advantage  of  your  opportunities,  and  instruct  us  as 
long  as  you  have  any  faith  in  instruction.  Leave 
consolation  to  another  time  :  but  you  don't  attend  to 
me,  Mr  Vincent  ;  come  another  day  :  come  on  Mon- 
day, when  I  shall  be  able  to  criticise  your  sermons, 
and  we  shall  have  no  Lady  Western  to  put  us  out. 
These  beauties  are  confusing,  don't  you  think?  Only, 
I  entreat  you,  whatever  you  do,  don't  fall  in  love  with 
her  ;  and  now,  since  I  know  you  wish  it,  you  may 
go  away." 

Vincent  stammered  a  faint  protest  as  he  accepted 
his  dismissal,  but  rose  promptly,  glad  to  be  released. 
Another  thought,  however,  seemed  to  strike  Mrs 
llilvard  as  she  shook  hands  with  him. 

"  Do  your  mother  and  sister  in  Lonsdale  keep  a 
school  ? "  she  said.  "  Nay,  pray  don't  look  affronted. 
Clergymen's  widows  and  daughters  very  often  do  in 
the  Church.  I  meant  no  impertinence  in  this  case. 
They  don't  ?  well,  that  is  all  I  wanted  to  know.  I 
daresay  they  are  not  likely  to  be  in  the  way  of 
dangerous  strangers.  Good-bye ;  and  you  must 
come  again  on  Monday,  when  I  shall  be  alone." 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  93 

"  But—  dangerous  strangers — may  I  ask  you  to 
explain  ? "  said  Vincent,  with  a  little  alarm,  instinc- 
tively recurring  to  his  threatened  brother-in-law,  and 
the  news  which  had  disturbed  his  composure  that 
morning  before  he  came  out. 

"  I  can't  explain ;  and  you  would  not  be  any  the 
wiser,"  said  Mrs  Hilyard,  peremptorily.  "Now,  good 
morning.  I  am  glad  they  don't  keep  a  school  ;  be- 
cause, you  know,"  she  added,  looking  full  into  his 
eyes,  as  if  defying  him  to  make  any  meaning  out  of 
her  words,  "it  is  very  tiresome,  tedious  work,  and 
wears  poor  ladies  out.  There  ! — good-bye  ;  next  day 
you  come  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  see  you,  and  we'll 
have  no  fine  ladies  to  put  us  out." 

Vincent  had  no  resource  but  to  let  himself  out  of 
the  shabby  little  room  which  this  strange  woman 
inhabited  as  if  it  had  been  a  palace.  The  momentary 
alarm  roused  by  her  last  words,  and  the  state  of  half 
offence,  half  interest,  into  which,  notwithstanding  his 
pre-occupation,  she  had  managed  to  rouse  him,  died 
away,  however,  as  he  re-entered  the  poor  little  street, 
which  was  now  a  road  in  Fairyland  instead  of  a  lane 
in  Carlingford,  to  his  rapt  eyes.  Golden  traces  of 
those  celestial  wheels  surely  lingered  still  upon  the 
way  ;  they  still  went  rolling  and  echoing  over  the 
poor  young  minister's  heart,  which  he  voluntarily 
threw  down  before  that  heavenly  car  of  Juggernaut, 


94        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD. 

Every  other  impression  faded  out  of  his  mind,  and 
the  infatuated  young  man  made  no  effort  of  resist- 
ance, but  hugged  the  enchanted  chain.  He  had  seen 
Her — spoken  with  Her — henceforward  was  of  her 
acquaintance.  He  cast  reason  to  the  winds,  and 
probability,  and  every  convention  of  life.  Did  any- 
body suppose  that  all  the  world  leagued  against  him 
could  prevent  hirn  from  seeing  her  again  1  He  went 
home  with  an  unspeakable  elation,  longing,  and  ex- 
citement, and  at  the  same  time  with  a  vain  floating 
idea  in  his  mind  that,  thus  inspired,  no  height  of 
eloquence  was  impossible  to  him,  and  that  triumph 
of  every  kind  Mas  inevitable.  He  went  home,  and 
got  his  writing-desk,  and  plunged  into  his  lecture, 
nothing  doubting  that  he  could  transfer  to  his  work 
that  glorious  tumult  of  his  thoughts  ;  and,  with  his 
paper  before  him,  wrote  three  words,  and  sat  three 
hours  staring  into  the  roseate  air,  and  dreaming 
dreams  as  wild  as  any  Arabian  tale.  Such  was  the 
first  effort  of  that  chance  encounter,  in  which  the 
personages  were  not  Lady  "Western  and  the  poor 
Dissenting  minister,  but  Beauty  and  Love,  perennial 
hero  and  heroine  of  the  romance  that  never  ends. 


CHAPTER    VI. 


It  was  only  two  days  after  this  eventful  meeting  that 
Vincent,  idling  and  meditative  as  was  natural  in 
such  a  condition  of  mind,  strayed  into  Masters's 
shop  to  buy  some  books.  It  would  have  been  diffi- 
cult for  him  to  have  explained  why  he  went  there, 
except,  perhaps,  because  it  was  the  last  place  in  the 
world  which  his  masters  at  the  chapel  would  have 
advised  him  to  enter.  For  there  was  another  book- 
seller in  the  town,  an  evangelical  man,  patronised  by 
Mr  Bury,  the  whilom  rector,  where  all  the  Tract 
Society's  publications  were  to  be  had,  not  to  speak  of 
a  general  range  of  literature  quite  wide  enough  for 
the  minister  of  Salem.  Masters's  was  a  branch  of 
the  London  Masters,  and,  as  might  be  supposed,  was 
equally  amazed  and  indignant  at  the  intrusion  of  a 
Dissenter  among  its  consecrated  book-shelves.  He 
was  allowed  to  turn  over  all  the  varieties  of  the 
'  Christian  Year '  on  a  side-table  before  any  of  the 


96  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLIXGFORD  : 

attendants  condescended  to  notice  his  presence  ;  and 
it  proved  bo  difficult  to  find  the  books  lie  wanted, 
and  so  much  more   difficult  to  find  anybody  who 
would  take  the  trouble  of  looking  for  them,  that  the 
young  Nonconformist,  who  was  sufficiently  ready  to 
take  offence,  began  to  get  hot  and  impatient,  and  had 
all  but  strode  out  of  the  shop,  with  a  new  mortifi- 
cation to  record  to  the  disadvantage  of  Carlingford. 
But  just  as  he  began  to  get  very  angry,  the  door 
swung  softly  open,  and  a  voice  became  audible,  ling- 
ering, talking  to  somebody  before  entering.     Vincent 
stopped  speaking,  and  stared  in  the  shopman's  aston- 
ished face  when  these  tones  came  to  his  ear.    He  fell 
back  instantly  upon  the  side-table  and  the  'Christian 
Year,'  forgetting  his  own  business,  and  what  he  had 
been  saying — forgetting  everything  except  that  She 
was  there,  and  that  in  another  moment  they  would 
stand  again  within  the  same  walls.    He  bent  over  the 
much-multiplied  volume  with  a  beating  heart,  poising 
in  one  hand  a  tiny  miniature  copy  just  made  to  slip 
within  the  pocket  of  an  Anglican  waistcoat,  and  in 
the  other  the  big  red-leaved  and  morocco-bound 
edition,  as  if  weighing  their  respective  merits — put 
beside  himself,  in  fact,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  obli- 
vious of  his  errand,  his  position — of  everything  but 
the  fact  that  She  was  at  the  door.     She  came  in  with 
a  sweet  flutter  and  rustle  of  sound,  a  perfumed  air 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  97 

entering  with  her,  as  the  unsuspected  enthusiast 
thought,  and  began  to  lavish  smiles,  for  which  he 
would  have  given  half  his  life,  upon  the  people  of  the 
place,  who  flew  to  serve  her.  She  had  her  tablets  in 
her  hand,  with  a  list  of  what  she  wanted,  and  held  up 
a  dainty  forefinger  as  she  stood  reading  the  items. 
As  one  thing  after  another  Mas  mentioned,  Masters 
and  his  men  darted  off  in  search  of  it.  There  were 
fortunately  enough  to  give  each  of  them  a  separate 
errand,  and  the  principal  ranged  his  shining  wares 
upon  the  counter  before  her,  and  bathed  in  her  smiles, 
while  all  his  satellites  kept  close  at  hand,  listening 
with  all  their  ears  for  another  commission.  Blessed 
Masters !  happy  shopmen !  that  one  who  looked  so 
blank  when  Vincent  stopped  short  at  the  sound  of 
her  voice  and  stared  at  him,  had  forgotten  all  about 
Vincent.  She  was  there  ;  and  if  a  little  impromptu 
litany  would  have  pleased  her  ladyship,  it  is  probable 
that  it  could  have  been  got  up  on  the  spot  after  the 
best  models,  and  that  even  the  Nonconformist  would 
have  waived  his  objections  to  liturgical  worship  and 
led  the  responses.  But  Masters's  establishment  offered 
practical  homage — only  the  poor  Dissenting  minister, 
divided  between  eagerness  and  fear,  stood  silent, 
flushed  with  excitement,  turning  wistful  looks  upon 
her,  waiting  till  perhaps  she  might  turn  round 
and  see  him,  and  letting  fall  out  of  Iris  trembling 

VOL.  I.  G 


98  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

fingers   those   unregarded  editions  of  the  Anglican 
lyre. 

"  And  t  wo  ropies  of  the  'Christian  Year,' "  said  Lady 
Western,  suddenly.  "  Oh,  thank  you  so  much !  but 
T  know  they  are  all  on  the  side-table,  and  I  shall  go 
and  look  at  them.  Not  the  very  smallest  copy,  Mi- 
Masters,  and  not  that  solemn  one  with  the  red  edges ; 
soin cthing  pretty,  with  a  little  ornament  and  gilding: 
they  are  for  two  little  protegees  of  mine.  Oh,  here  is 
exactly  what  I  want !  another  one  like  this,  please. 
How  very  obliging  all  your  people  are,"  said  her 
ladyship,  benignly,  as  the  nearest  man  dashed  off 
headlong  to  bring  what  she  wanted — "  but  I  think  it 
is  universal  in  Carlingford  ;  and  indeed  the  manners 
of  our  country  people  in  general  have  improved  very 
much  of  late.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  oh,  there  can't  be 
a  question  about  it ! " 

"  1  beg  your  ladyship's  pardon,  I  am  sure ;  but 
perhaps,  my  lady,  it  is  not  safe  to  judge  the  general 
question  from  your  ladyship's  point  of  view/'  said  the 
polite  bookseller,  with  a  bow. 

"  Oh,  pray  don't  say  so  ;  I  should  be  wretched  if  I 
thought  you  took  more  trouble  for  me  than  for  other 
people,"  said  the  young  Dowager,  with  a  sweetness 
which  filled  Vincent's  heart  with  jealous  pangs.  She 
was  close  by  his  side — so  close  that  those  sacred  robes 
rustled  in  his  very  ear,  and  her  shawl  brushed  his 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  99 

sleeve.  The  poor  young  man  took  off  his  hat  in  a 
kind  of  ecstasy.  If  she  did  not  notice  him,  what  did 
it  matter  ? — silent  adoration,  speechless  homage,  could 
not  affront  a  queen. 

And  it  was  happily  very  far  from  affronting  Lady 
Western.  She  turned  round  with  a  little  curiosity, 
and  looked  up  in  his  face.  "  Oh,  Mr — Mr  Vincent," 
cried  the  beautiful  creature,  brightening  in  recogni- 
tion. "  How  do  you  do  ?  I  suppose  you  are  a  resi- 
dent in  Carlingford  now,  are  not  you  ?  Pardon  me, 
that  I  did  not  see  you  when  I  came  in.  How  very, 
very  good  it  is  of  you  to  go  and  see  my — my  friend  ! 
Did  you  ever  see  anything  so  dreadful  as  the  place 
when1  she  lives  ?  and  isn't  she  an  extraordinary  crea- 
ture ?  Thank  you,  Mr  Masters  ;  that's  exactly  what 
I  want.  I  do  believe  she  might  have  been  Lord 
Chancellor,  or  something,  if  she  had  not  been  a 
woman,"  said  the  enchantress,  once  more  lifting  her 
lovely  eyes  with  an  expression  uf  awe  to  Vincent's 
face. 

"  She  seems  a  very  remarkable  person,"  said  Vin- 
cent, "  To  see  her  where  she  is,  makes  one  feel  how- 
insignificant  are  the  circumstances  of  life." 

"Really !  now,  how  do  you  make  out  that?"  said 
Lady  Western  ;  "  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  think,  when 
I  see  her,  oh,  how  important  they  are !  and  that  I'd 
a  great  deal  rather  die  than  live  so.     But  you  clever 


100  CHBON1CLES   OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

people  take  such  strange  views  of  things.  Now  tell 
me  how  you  make  that  out  ? " 

"Nay,"  said  Vincent,  lowering  his  voice  with  a 
delicious  sense  of  having  a  subject  to  be  confidential 
upon,  "you  know  what  conditions  of  existence  all  her 
surroundings  imply  ;  yet  the  most  ignorant  could  not 
doubt  for  a  moment  her  perfect  superiority  to  them — 
a  superiority  so  perfect,"  he  added,  with  a  sudden 
insight  which  puzzled  even  himself,  "that  it  is  not 
necessary  to  assert  it." 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure,"  said  Lady  Western,  colouring  a 
little,  and  with  a  momentary  hauteur,  "of  course  a 

Russell 1   mean  a  gentlewoman — must   always 

look  the  same  to  a  certain  extent ;  but,  alas !  I  am 
only  a  very  commonplace  little  woman/'  continued 
the  beauty,  brightening  into  those  smiles  which  per- 
haps might  be  distributed  too  liberally,  but  which 
intoxicated  for  the  moment  every  man  on  whom  they 
fell.  "  I  think  those  circumstances  which  you  speak 
of  so  disrespectfully  are  everything !  I  have  not  a 
great  soul  to  triumph  over  them.  I  should  break 
down,  or  they  would  overcome  me — oh,  you  need  not 
shake  your  head !  I  know  I  am  right  so  far  as  I  my- 
self am  concerned." 

"Indeed  I  cannot  think  so,"  said  the  intoxicated  young 
man  ;  "  you  would  make  any  circumstances " 

"What?" 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  101 

But  the  bewildered  youth  made  no  direct  reply. 
He  only  gazed  at  her,  grew  very  red,  and  said,  sud- 
denly, "  I  beg  your  pardon,"  stepping  back  in  confu- 
sion, like  the  guilty  man  he  was.  The  lady  blushed, 
too,  as  her  inquiring  eyes  met  that  unexpected  response. 
Used  as  she  was  to  adoration,  she  felt  the  silent  force 
of  the  compliment  withheld — it  was  a  thousand  times 
sweeter  in  its  delicate  suggestiveness  and  reserve  of 
incense  than  any  effusion  of  words.  They  were  both 
a  little  confused  for  the  moment,  poor  Vincent's 
momentary  betrayal  of  himself  having  somehow  sud- 
denly dissipated  the  array  of  circumstances  which 
surrounded  and  separated  two  persons  so  far  apart 
from  each  other  in  every  conventional  aspect.  The 
first  to  regain  her  place  and  composure  was  of  course 
Lady  Western,  who  made  him  a  pretty  playful  curtsy, 
and  broke  into  a  low,  sweet  ring  of  laughter. 

"  Now  I  shall  never  know  whether  you  meant  to  be 
complimentary  or  contemptuous,"  cried  the  young 
Dowager,  "  which  is  hard  upon  a  creature  with  such 
a  love  of  approbation  as  our  friend  says  I  have. 
However,  I  forgive  you,  if  you  meant  to  be  very  cutting, 
for  her  sake.  It  is  so  very  kind  of  you  to  go  to  see 
her,  and  I  am  sure  she  enjoys  your  visits.  Thank  you, 
Mr  Masters,  that  is  all.  Have  you  got  the  two  copies 
of  the  '  Christian  Year '?  Put  them  into  the  carriage, 
please.     Mr  Vincent,  I  am  going  to  have  the  last  of 


102  CHRONICLES    OF    CARLINGFORD  : 

my  summer-parties  next  Thursday — twelve  o'clock  ; 
will  you  come  ? — only  a  cup  of  coffee,  you  know,  or 
tea  if  you  prefer  it,  and  talk  cm  discretion.  I  shall 
be  happy  to  see  you,  and  I  have  some  nice  friends, 
and  one  or  two  good  pictures;  so  there  you  have  an 
account  of  all  the  attractions  my  house  can  boast  of. 
Do  come :  it  will  be  my  last  party  this  season,  and  I 
rather  want  it  to  be  a  great  success,"  said  the  syren, 
Kinking  up  with  her  sweet  eyes. 

Vincent  could  not  tell  what  answer  he  made  in  his 
rapture  ;  but  the  next. thing  he  was  properly  conscious 
of  was  the  light  touch  of  her  hand  upon  his  arm  as 
he  led  her  to  her  carriage,  some  sudden  courageous 
impulse  having  prompted  him  to  secure  for  himself 
that  momentary  blessedness.  He  walked  forth  in  a 
dream,  conducting  that  heavenly  vision:  and  there, 
outside,  stood  the  celestial  chariot  with  those  pawing 
horses,  and  the  children  standing  round  with  open 
mouth  to  watch  the  lovely  lady's  progress.  It  was 
he  who  put  her  in  with  such  pride  and  humbleness 
as  perhaps  only  a  generous  but  inexperienced  young 
man,  suddenly  surprised  into  passion,  could  be  capable 
of — ready  to  kiss  the  hem  of  her  garment,  or  do  any 
other  preposterous  act  of  homage — and  just  as  apt 
to  blaze  up  into  violent  self-assertion  should  any  man 
attempt  to  humble  him  who  had  been  thus  honoured. 
While  he  stood  watching  the  carriage  out  of  sight, 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  103 

Masters  himself  came  out  to  tell  the  young  Noncon- 
formist, whose  presence  that  dignified  tradesman  had 
been  loftily  unconscious  of  a  few  minutes  before,  that 
they  had  found  the  book  he  wanted ;  and  Vincent, 
thrilling  in  every  pulse  with  the  unlooked-for  bless- 
edness which  had  befallen  him,  was  not  sorry,  when 
he  dropped  out  of  the  clouds  at  the  bookseller's  accost, 
to  re-enter  that  place  where  this  enchantment  still 
hovered,  by  way  of  calming  himself  down  ere  he  re- 
turned to  those  prose  regions  which  were  his  own 
lawful  habitation.  He  saw  vaguely  the  books  that 
were  placed  on  the  counter  before  him — heard  vaguely 
the  polite  purling  of  Masters  s  voice,  all-solicitous  to 
make  up  for  the  momentary  incivility  with  which 
he  had  treated  a  friend  of  Lady  Western's — and  was 
conscious  of  taking  out  his  purse  and  paying  some- 
thing for  the  volume,  which  he  carried  away  with 
him.  But  the  book  might  have  been  Sanscrit  for 
anything  Mr  Vincent  cared — and  he  would  have  paid 
any  fabulous  price  for  it  with  the  meekest  resigna- 
tion. His  attempt  to  appear  moderately  interested, 
and  to  conduct  this  common  transaction  as  if  he  had 
all  his  wits  about  him,  was  sufficient  occupation  just 
at  this  moment.  His  head  was  turned.  There  should 
have  been  roses  blossoming  all  along  the  bare  pave- 
ment of  George  Street  to  account  for  the  sweet  gleams 
of  light  which  warmed  the  entire  atmosphere  as  he 


104  CIIROXICLES  OF   CARLINGFORD. 

traversed  that  commonplace  way.  Not  only  the 
interview  just  passed,  hut  the  meeting  to  come,  be- 
wildered  him  with  an  intoxicating  delight.  Here, 
then,  was  the  society  he  had  dreamed  of,  opening  its 
perfumed  doors  to  receive  him.  From  Mrs  Tozer's 
supper-table  to  the  bowery  gates  of  Grange  Lane  was 
a  jump  which,  ten  days  ago,  would  of  itself  have 
made  the  young  minister  giddy  with  satisfaction  and 
pleasure.  Now  these  calm  emotions  had  ceased  to 
move  him  ;  for  not  society,  but  a  sweeter  syren,  had 
thrown  chains  of  gold  round  the  unsuspecting  Non- 
conformist. With  Her,  Back  Grove  Street  was  Para- 
dise. Where  her  habitation  was,  or  what  he  should 
see  there,  was  indifferent  to  Vincent.  He  was  again 
to  meet  Herself. 


CHAPTER   VII. 


The  clays  which  intervened  between  this  meeting  and 
Lady  Western's  party  were  spent  in  a  way  which  the 
managers  of  Salem  would  have  been  far  from  approv- 
ing of.  Mr  Vincent,  indeed,  was  rapt  out  of  himself, 
out  of  his  work,  out  of  all  the  ordinary  regions  of  life 
and  thought.  When  he  sat  down  to  his  sermons,  his 
pen  hung  idly  in  his  hand,  and  his  mind,  wilfully 
cheating  itself  by  that  semblance  of  study,  went  off 
into  long  delicious  reveries,  indescribable,  intangible — 
a  secret  sweet  intoxication  which  forbade  labour,  yet 
nourished  thought.  Though  he  sometimes  did  not 
write  a  word  in  an  hour,  so  deep  was  the  aspect  of 
studiousness  displayed  by  the  young  pastor  at  his 
writing-desk,  and  so  entire  the  silence  he  maintained 
in  his  room,  shut  up  in  that  world  of  dreams  which 
nobody  knew  anything  of,  that  his  landlady,  who  was 
one  of  his  hearers,  communicated  the  fact  to  Tozer, 
and  expatiated  everywhere  upon  the  extreme  devo- 


106       CHBONICLBS  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

tion  to  study  displayed  by  the  new  minister.  Old 
Mr  Tuft <>n,  who  had  been  in  the  habit  of  putting  to- 
gether the  disjointed  palaver  which  he  called  a  sermon 
on  the  Saturday  morning,  shook  his  head  over  the 
information,  and  doubted  that  his  young  brother  was 
resorting  more  to  carnal  than  to  spiritual  means  of 
filling  his  chapel ;  but  the  members  of  Salem  gene- 
rally heard  the  rumour  with  pride,  and  felt  a  certain 
distinction  accrue  to  themselves  from  the  possibility 
that  their  pastor  might  ruin  his  health  by  over-study. 
It  was  a  new  sensation  in  Salem  ;  and  the  news,  as  it 
was  whispered  about,  certainly  came  to  the  ears  of  a 
few  of  those  young  men  and  thinkers,  principally 
poor  lawyers'  clerks  and  drapers'  assistants,  whom 
Tozer  was  so  anxious  to  reach,  and  drew  two  or  three 
doubtful,  genteel  hearers  to  the  chapel,  where  Mr 
Vincent's  sermon,  though  no  better  than  usual,  and 
in  reality  dashed  off  at  the  last  moment  in  sheer 
desperation,  when  necessity  momentarily  thrust  the 
divams  away,  was  listened  to  with  a  certain  awre  and 
devout  attention,  solely  due  to  the  toil  it  was  re- 
ported to  have  cost.  The  young  minister  himself 
came  out  of  the  pulpit  remorseful  and  ashamed,  feel- 
ing that  he  had  neglected  his  duty,  and  thoroughly 
disgusted  with  the  superficial  production,  just  lighted 
up  with  a  few  fiery  sentences  of  that  eloquence  which 
belongs  to  excitement  and  passion,  which  he  had  just 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  107 

delivered.  But  Tozer  and  all  the  deacons  buzzed  ap- 
probation. They  were  penetrated  with  the  conviction 
that  he  had  worked  hard  at  his  sermon,  and  given 
them  his  best,  and  were  not  to  be  undeceived  by  the 
quality  of  the  work  itself,  which  was  a  secondary 
matter.  More  deeply  disgusted  and  contemptuous 
than  ever  was  the  young  pastor  at  the  end  of  that 
Sunday — disgusted  with  himself  to  have  done  his 
work  so  poorly — contemptuous  of  those  who  were 
pleased  with  it — his  heart  swelling  with  mortified 
pride  to  think  that  what  he  thought  so  unworthy  of 
him  was  more  appreciated  than  his  best  efforts.  For 
he  did  not  know  the  report  that  had  gone  abroad ;  he 
did  not  know  that,  while  brooding  over  his  own  rising 
passion,  and  absorbed  in  dreams  with  which  Salem 
had  nothing  to  do,  the  little  world  around  him  was 
complacently  giving  him  credit  for  a  purpose  of 
wearing  himself  out  in  its  behalf.  The  sermons  so 
hastily  written,  thrust  into  a  corner  by  the  over- 
powering enchantment  of  those  reveries,  were  not  the 
only  sin  he  had  to  charge  against  himself.  He  could 
not  bring  himself  to  bear  the  irksome  society  that 
surrounded  him,  in  the  state  of  elevation  and  excite- 
ment he  was  in.  Tozer  was  unendurable,  and  Phoebe 
to  be  avoided  at  all  costs.  He  did  not  even  pay  his 
promised  visit  to  Mrs  Hilyard,  nor  go  to  Siloam 
Cottage  as  usual.     In  short,  he  spent  the  days  in  a 


108  t  ERONII  LE8   OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

kind  of  dream,  avoiding  all  his  duties,  paying  no 
visits,  doing  no  pastoral  work,  neglecting  the  very 
BermoD  over  which  his  landlady  saw  him  hanging  so 
many  silenl  hours,  without  knowing  that  all  the 
vacant  atmosphere  between  him  and  that  blank  sheet 
of  paper,  in  which  she  saw  nothing,  was  peopled  with 
fairy  visitants  and  unreal  scenes  to  the  dreamy  eyes 
of  her  lodger.  Such  were  the  first  effects  of  Circe's 
cup  upon  the  young  minister.  He  indulged  him- 
self consciously,  with  apologetic  self-remonstrances,  as 
Thursday  approached.  After  that  day,  life  was  to  go 
on  as  usual.  No — not  as  usual — with  a  loftier  aim 
and  a  higher  inspiration ;  hut  the  season  of  dreams 
was  to  he  over  when  he  had  real  admittance  into  that 
Eden  garden,  where  the  woman  of  all  women  wan- 
dered among  her  flowers.  He  thought  what  he  was 
to  say  to  her  on  that  eventful  day — how  he  should 
charm  her  into  interest  in  his  difficulties,  and  beautify 
his  office,  and  the  barren  spot  in  which  he  exercised 
it,  with  her  sympathy.  He  imagined  himself  pos- 
sessed of  her  ear,  certain  of  a  place  by  her  side,  a 
special  guest  of  her  own  election.  He  was  not  vain, 
nor  deeply  persuaded  of  his  own  importance  ;  yet  all 
this  seemed  only  natural  to  his  excited  imagination. 
He  saw  himself  by  her  side  in  that  garden  of  beati- 
tudes, disclosing  to  her  all  that  was  in  his  heart ;  in- 
stinctively he  recalled  all  that  the  poets  have  said  of 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  109 

woman  the  consoler — woman  the  inspirer.  When  he 
had  gained  that  priceless  sympathy,  what  glorious 
amends  he  should  make  for  the  few  days'  indolence 
to  which  he  now  gave  way !  Thus  in  his  inexperience 
he  went  on,  preparing  for  himself,  as  any  one  a  little 
wiser  could  have  seen  at  a  glance,  one  of  the  bitterest 
disappointments  of  early  life. 

Thursday  came,  a  day  of  days — such  a  day  as 
people  reckon  by,  months  after;  a  soft  and  bright 
autumnal  morning,  breathing  like  spring.  As  Vin- 
cent issued  from  his  own  door  and  took  his  way 
along  George  Street  to  Grange  Lane,  he  saw  the 
curate  of  St  Koque's  walking  before  him  in  the  same 
direction  ;  but  Mr  Wentworth  himself  was  not  more 
orthodoxly  clerical  in  every  detail  of  his  costume 
than  was  the  young  Nonconformist,  who  was  going, 
not  to  Lady  Western's  breakfast-party,  but  into  the 
Bower  of  Bliss,  the  fool's  paradise  of  his  youth.  Mr 
Wentworth,  it  is  true,  was  to  see  Lucy  Wodehouse 
there,  and  was  a  true  lover ;  but  he  walked  without 
excitement  to  the  green  gate  which  concealed  from 
him  no  enchanted  world  of  delights,  but  only  a 
familiar  garden,  with  every  turn  of  which  he  was 
perfectly  acquainted,  and  which,  even  when  Lucy 
was  by  his  side,  contained  nothing  ineffable  or 
ecstatic.  It  was,  to  tell  the  truth,  an  autumnal 
garden,  bright  enough  still  with   scarlet  gleams  of 


110        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

geranium  and  verbena,  with  a  lawn  of  velvet  .smooth- 
ness, and  no  great  diminution  as  yet  in  the  shade  of 
the  acacias  and  lime-trees,  and  everything  in  the 
most  perfect  order  in  the  trim  shrubberies,  through 
the  skilful  mazes  of  which  some  bright  groups  were 
already  wandering,  when  Vincent  passed  through  to 
the  sunny  open  door.  At  the  open  windows  within 
he  could  see  other  figures  in  a  pleasant  nutter  of  gay 
colour  and  light  drapery,  as  he  advanced  breathless 
to  take  his  own  place  in  that  unknown  world.  He 
heard  his  own  name  announced,  and  went  in,  with 
a  chill  of  momentary  doubt  upon  his  high  expecta- 
tions, into  the  airy  sunshiny  room,  with  its  gay, 
brilliant,  rustling  crowd,  the  ladies  all  bright  and 
fresh  in  their  pretty  morning-dresses,  and  the  din  of 
talk  and  laughter  confusing  his  unaccustomed  ears. 
For  a  moment  the  stranger  stood  embarrassed,  look- 
ing round  him,  eagerly  investigating  the  crowd  for 
that  one  face,  which  was  not  only  the  sole  face  of 
woman  in  the  world  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  but 
in  reality  the  only  face  he  knew  in  the  gay  party, 
where  everybody  except  himself  knew  everybody 
else.  Then  he  saw  her,  and  his  doubts  were  over. 
When  she  perceived  him,  she  made  a  few  steps  for- 
ward to  meet  him  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you — how  kind  of  you  to 
come  !  "  said  Lady  Western  ;  "  and  such  a  beautiful 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  Ill 

day — just  what  I  wanted  for  my  last  fete.  Have 
you  seen  my  friend  again  since  I  saw  you,  Mr  Vin- 
cent— quite  well,  I  hope?  Now,  do  have  some 
coffee. — How  do  you  do,  Mr  Went  worth  ?  You  have 
been  here  full  five  minutes,  and  you  have  never  paid 
your  respects  to  me.  Even  under  the  circumstances, 
you  know,  one  cannot  overlook  such  neglect." 

"  I  am  too  deeply  flattered  that  your  ladyship 
should  have  observed  my  entrance  to  be  able  to 
make  any  defence,"  said  the  curate  of  St  Eoque's, 
who  could  speak  to  her  as  to- any  ordinary  woman  ; 
"  but  as  for  circumstances " 

"  Oh  dear,  yes,  we  all  know,"  cried  Lady  "Western, 
with  her  sweet  laugh.  "  Was  it  you,  Mr  Vincent, 
who  were  saying  that  circumstances  were  everything 
in  life? — oh,  no,  I  beg  your  pardon,  quite  the  reverse. 
I  remember  it  struck  me  as  odd  and  clever.  Now,  I 
daresay,  you  two  could  quite  settle  that  question.  I 
am  such  an  ignoramus.     So  kind  of  you  to  come ! " 

Vincent  was  about  to  protest  his  delight  in  coining, 
and  to  deprecate  the  imputation  of  kindness,  but 
ere  he  had  spoken  three  words,  he  suddenly  came  to 
a  stop,  perceiving  that  not  only  Lady  AVestern's 
attention  but  her  ear  was  lost,  and  that  already 
another  candidate  for  her  favour  had  possession  of 
the  field.  He  stepped  back  into  the  gay  assembly, 
disturbing  one   group,  the   members   of  which    all 


112        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

turned  to  look  al  him  with  -well-bred  curiosity.  He 
stood  quite  alone  and  silent  for  some  time,  waiting 
if,  perhaps,  lie  could  catch  the  eye  of  Lady  Western. 
But  Bhe  was  surrounded,  swept  away,  carried  off 
even  from  his  neighbourhood,  while  he  stood  gazing. 
And  here  was  he  left,  out  of  the  sunshine  of  her 
presence  in  the  midst  of  Carlingford  society,  know- 
ing nobody,  while  every  face  smiled  and  every 
tongue  was  busy  but  his  own :  talk  an  discretion  ! 
such  there  certainly  was — but  Vincent  had  never 
in  his  life  felt  so  preposterously  alone,  so  dismally 
silent,  so  shut  up  in  himself.  If  he  had  come  to  woo 
society,  doubtless  he  could  have  plucked  up  a  spirit, 
and  made  a  little  effort  for  his  object.  But  he  had 
come  to  see  Her,  flattering  himself  with  vain  dreams 
of  securing  her  to  himself — of  wandering  by  her 
side  through  those  garden-paths,  of  keeping  near  her 
whenever  she  moved — and  the  dream  had  intoxicated 
him  more  deeply  than  even  he  himself  was  aware  of. 
Now  he  woke  to  his  sober  wits  with  a  chill  of  mor- 
tification and  disappointment  not  to  be  expressed. 
He  stood  silent,  following  her  with  his  eyes  as  she 
glided  about  from  one  corner  to  the  other  of  the 
crowded  room.  He  had  neither  eyes  nor  ears  for 
anything  else.  Beautiful  as  she  had  always  been, 
she  was  lovelier  than  ever  to-day,  with  her  fair  head 
uncovered  and  unadorned,  her  beautiful  hair  glancing 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  113 

in  the  gleams  of  sunshine,  her  tiny  hands  ungloved. 
Poor  Vincent  drew  near  a  window,  when  it  dawned 
upon  his  troubled  perception  that  he  was  standing 
amidst  all  those  chattering,  laughing  people,  a  silent 
statue  of  disappointment  and  dismay,  and  from  that 
little  refuge  watched  her  as  she  matfe  her  progress. 
And,  alas  !  Lady  Western  assured  everybody  that 
they  were  "  so  kind  "  to  come — she  distributed  her 
smiles,  her  kind  words,  everywhere.  She  beamed 
upon  the  old  men  and  the  young,  the  handsome  and 
the  stupid,  with  equal  sweetness.  After  a  while,  as 
he  stood  watching,  Vincent  began  to  melt  in  his 
heart.  She  was  hostess — she  had  the  party's  pleasure 
to  think  of,  not  her  own.  If  he  could  but  help  her, 
bring  himself  to  her  notice  again  in  some  other 
way  !  Vincent  made  another  step  out  of  his  window, 
and  looked  out  eagerly  with  shy  scrutiny.  Nobody 
wanted  his  help.  They  stared  at  him,  and  whispered 
questions  who  he  was.  "When  he  at  length  nerved 
himself  to  speak  to  his  next  neighbour,  he  met  with 
a  courteous  response  and  no  more.  Society  was  not 
cruel,  or  repulsive,  or  severely  exclusive,  but  simply 
did  not  know  him,  could  not  make  out  who  he  was, 
and  was  busy  talking  that  conversation  of  a  limited 
sphere  full  of  personal  allusions  into  which  no 
stranger  could  enter.  Instead  of  the  ineffable  hour 
he   expected,   an   embarrassing,   unbearable  tedium 

VOL.  I.  H 


114  CHBONICLBS   OF   (AKI.INGFORD  : 

was  the  lot  of  the  poor  Dissenting  minister  by  him- 
self among  the  beauty,  wit,  and  fashion  of  Carling- 
ford.  He  Mould  have  stolen  away  but  for  the  forlorn 
hope  thai  things  might  mend — that  Lady  Western 
might  retain,  and  thai  the  sunshine  he  had  dreamed 
ni  would  yet  fall  upon  him.  But  no  such  happiness 
■  ;u in-  to  the  unfortunate  young  minister.  After  a 
while,  a  perfectly  undistinguished  middle-aged  indivi- 
dual charitably  engaged  Mr  Vincent  in  conversation ; 
and  as  they  talked,  and  while  the  young  man's  eager 
wistful  eyes  followed  into  every  new  combination  of 
the  little  crowd  that  one  fair  figure  which  had  be- 
witched him,  it  became  apparent  that  the  company 
was  flowing  forth  into  the  garden.  At  last  Vincent 
stopped  short  in  the  languid  answer  he  was  making 
to  his  respectable  interlocutor  with  a  sudden  start 
and  access  of  impatience.  The  brilliant  room  had 
suddenly  clouded  over.  She  had  joined  her  guests 
outside.  With  bitterness,  and  a  sharp  pang  at  his 
heart,  Vincent  looked  round  and  wondered  to  find 
himself  in  the  house,  in  the  company,  from  which 
she  had  gone.  What  business  had  he  there?  No 
link  of  connection  existed  between  him  and  this  little 
world  of  unknown  people  except  herself.  She  had 
brought  him  here ;  she  alone  knew  even  so  much  of 
him  as  his  name.  He  had  not  an  inch  of  ground  to 
stand  on  in  the  little  alien  assembly  when  she  was 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  115 

not  there.  He  broke  off  his  conversation  with  his 
unknown  sympathiser  abruptly,  and  rushed  out, 
meaning  to  leave  the  place.  But  somehow,  fascinated 
still,  in  a  hundred  different  moods  a  minute,  when  he 
got  outside,  he  too  lingered  about  the  paths,  where 
he  continually  met  with  groups  and  stray  couples 
who  stared  at  him.  ami  wondered  again,  sometimes 
not  inaudibly,  who  he  was.  He  met  her  at  last 
under  the  shadow  of  the  lime-trees  with  a  train  of 
girls  about  her,  and  a  following  of  eager  male  atten- 
dants. When  he  came  forward  lonely  to  make  his 
farewell,  with  a  look  in  which  he  meant  to  unite 
a  certain  indignation  and  reproach  with  still  chival- 
rous devotion,  the  unconscious  beauty  met  him  with 
unabated  sweetness,  held  out  her  hand  as  before,  and 
smiled  the  most  radiant  of  smiles. 

"  Are  you  going  to  leave  us  already  ?  "  she  said,  in 
a  tone  which  half  persuaded  the  unlucky  youth  to 
stay  till  the  last  moment,  and  swallow  all  his  mor- 
tifications. "So  sorry  you  must  go  away  so  soon! 
and  I  wanted  to  show  you  my  pictures  too.  Another 
time,  I  hope,  we  may  have  better  fortune.  Wben 
you  come  to  me  again,  you  must  really  be  at  leisure, 
and  have  no  other  engagements.  Good-bye  !  It  was 
so  kind  of  you  to  come,  and  I  am  so  sorry  you  can't 
stay ! " 

In  another  minute  the  green  door  had  opened  and 


11G  CnROXICLES  of  oablingford: 

closed,  the  fairy  vision  was  gone,  and  poor  Vincent 
stood  in  Grange  Lane  between  the  two  blank  lines  of 
garden-wall;  come  back  to  the  common  daylight  after 
a  week's  vain  wandering  in  the  enchanted  grounds, 
naif  Btnpified,  half  maddened  by  the  disappointment 
and  downfaL  He  made  a  momentary  pause  at  the 
door,  gulped  down  the  big  indignant  sigh  that  rose 
in  his  throat,  and,  with  a  quickened  step  and  a 
heightened  colour,  retraced  his  steps  along  a  road 
which  no  longer  gleamed  with  any  rosy  reflections, 
but  was  harder,  more  real,  more  matter-of-fact  than 
ever  it  had  looked  before.  What  a  fool  he  had  been, 
to  be  led  into  such  a  false  position ! — to  be  cheated 
of  his  peace,  and  seduced  from  his  duty,  and  intoxi- 
cated into  such  absurdities  of  hope,  all  by  the  gleam 
of  a  bright  eye,  and  the  sound  of  a  sweet  voice ! 
He  who  had  never  known  the  weakness  before,  to 
cover  himself  with  ridicule,  and  compromise  his 
dignity  so  entirely  for  the  sake  of  the  first  beautiful 
woman  who  smiled  upon  him  !  Toor  Vincent !  He 
hurried  to  his  rooms  thrilling  with  projects,  schemes, 
and  sudden  vindictive  ambition.  That  fair  creature 
should  learn  that  the  young  Nonconformist  was 
worthy  of  her  notice.  Those  self-engrossed  simperers 
should  yet  be  startled  out  of  their  follies  by  the  new 
fame  rising  up  amongst  thorn.  "Who  was  he,  did 
they  ask  ?     One  day  they  should  know. 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  117 

That  the  young  man  should  despise  himself  for 
this  outbreak  of  injured  feeling,  as  soon  as  he  had 
cooled  down,  was  inevitable ;  but  it  took  some  con- 
siderable time  to  cool  down  ;  and  in  the  mean  time 
his  resolution  rose  and  swelled  into  that  heroic 
region  which  youth  always  attains  so  easily.  He 
thought  himself  disenchanted  for  ever.  That  night, 
in  bitter  earnest,  he  burned  the  midnight  oil — that 
night  his  pen  flew  over  the  paper  with  outbreaks, 
sometimes  indignant,  sometimes  pathetic,  on  subjects 
as  remote  as  possible  from  Lady  Western's  breakfast- 
party  ;  and  with  a  sudden  revulsion  he  bethought 
himself  of  Salem  and  its  oligarchy,  which  just  now 
prophesied  so  much  good  of  their  new  minister.  He 
accepted  Salem  with  all  the  heat  of  passion  at  that 
moment.  His  be  the  task  to  raise  it  and  its  pastor 
into  a  common  fame  ! 


CHAPTER    VIII. 


The  events  above  narrated  were  all  prefatory  of  the 
great  success  accomplished  by  Mr  Vincent  in  Car- 
lingford.  Indeed,  the  date  of  the  young  minister's 
fame — fame  which,  as  everybody  acquainted  with 
that  town  must  be  aware,  was  widely  diffused  beyond 
Carlingford  itself,  and  even  reached  the  metropolis, 
and  gladdened  his  Alma  Mater  at  Homerton — might 
almost  be  fixed  by  a  reference  to  Lady  Western's 
housekeeping  book,  if  she  kept  any,  and  the  date  of 
her  last  summer-party.  That  event  threw  the  young 
Nonconformist  into  just  the  state  of  mind  which  was 
wanted  to  quicken  all  the  prejudices  of  his  education, 
and  give  individual  force  to  all  the  hereditary  limits 
of  thought  in  which  he  had  been  born.  An  attempt 
on  the  part  of  the  Government  to  repeal  the  Tolera- 
tion Act,  or  reinstate  the  Test,  could  scarcely  have 
produced  a  more  permanent  and  rapid  effect  than 
Lady  Western's  neglect,  and  the  total  ignorance  of 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  119 

Mr  Vincent  displayed  by  polite  society  in  Carling- 
ford.  No  shame  to  him.  It  was  precisely  the  same 
thing  in  private  life  which  the  other  would  have 
been  in  public.  Repeal  of  the  Toleration  Act,  or  re- 
enactment  of  the  Test,  are  things  totally  impossible  ; 
and  when  persecution  is  not  to  be  apprehended  or 
hoped  for,  where  but  in  the  wrongs  of  a  privileged 
class  can  the  true  zest  of  dissidence  be  found  ?  Mr 
Vincent,  who  had  received  his  dissenting  principles 
as  matters  of  doctrine,  took  up  the  familiar  instru- 
ments now  with  a  rush  of  private  feeling.  He  was 
not  conscious  of  the  power  of  that  sentiment  of  in- 
jury and  indignation  which  possessed  him.  He  be- 
lieved in  his  heart  that  he  was  but  returning,  after 
a  temporary  hallucination,  to  the  true  duties  of  his 
post ;  but  the  fact  was,  that  this  wound  in  the  teii- 
derest  point — this  general  slight  and  indifference — 
pricked  him  forward  in  all  that  force  of  personal 
complaint  which  gives  warmth  and  piquancy  to  a 
public  grievance.  The  young  man  said  nothing  of 
Lady  Western  even  to  his  dearest  friend — tried  not 
to  think  of  her  except  by  way  of  imagining  how  she 
should  one  day  hear  of  him,  and  know  his  name  when 
it  possessed  a  distinction  which  neither  the  perpetual 
curate  of  St  Roque's,  nor  any  other  figure  in  that  local 
world,  dared  hope  for.  But  with  fiery  zeal  he  flew 
to  the  question  of  Church  and  State,  and  set  forth 


120       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

the  wrongs  which  Christianity  sustained  from  endow- 
ment, and  the  heinous  evils  of  rich  livings,  episcopal 
palaces,  and  spiritual  lords.  It  was  no  mean  or  un- 
generous argument  which  the  young  Nonconformist 
pursued  in  his  fervour  of  youth  and  wounded  self- 
regard.  It  was  the  natural  cry  of  a  man  who  had 
entered  life  at  disadvantage,  and  chafed,  without 
knowing  it,  at  all  the  phalanx  of  orders  and  classes 
above  him,  standing  close  in  order  to  prevent  his 
entrance.  With  eloquent  fervour  he  expatiated  upon 
the  kingdom  that  was  not  of  this  world.  If  these 
words  were  true,  what  had  the  Church  to  do  with 
worldly  possessions,  rank,  dignities,  power?  Was 
his  Grace  of  Lambeth  more  like  Paul  the  tentmaker 
than  his  Holiness  of  Borne  ?  Mr  Vincent  went  into 
the  whole  matter  with  genuine  conviction,  and  confi- 
dence in  his  own  statements.  He  believed  and  had 
been  trained  in  it.  In  his  heart  he  was  persuaded 
that  he  himself,  oft  disgusted  and  much  misunder- 
stood in  his  elected  place  at  Salem  Chapel,  ministered 
the  gospel  more  closely  to  his  Master's  appointment 
than  the  rector  of  Carlingford,  who  was  nominated 
by  a  college;  or  the  curate  of  St  Roque's,  who  had  his 
forty  pounds  a-year  from  a  tiny  ancient  endowment, 
and  was  spending  his  own  little  fortune  on  his  church 
and  district.  These  men  had  joined  God  and  mam- 
mon— they  were  in  the  pay  of  the  State.    Mr  Vincent 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  121 

thundered  forth  the  lofty  censures  of  an  evangelist 
whom  the  State  did  not  recognise,  and  with  whom 
mammon  had  little  enough  to  do.  He  brought  forth 
all  the  weapons  out  of  the  Homerton  armoury,  new, 
bright,  and  dazzling  ;  and  he  did  not  know  any  more 
than  his  audience  that  he  never  would  have  wielded 
them  so  heartily — perhaps  would  scarcely  have  taken 
them  off  the  wall — but  for  the  sudden  sting  with 
which  his  own  inferior  place,  and  the  existence  of  a 
privileged  class  doubly  shut  against  his  entrance,  had 
quickened  his  personal  consciousness.  Such,  how- 
ever, was  the  stimulus  which  woke  the  minister  of 
Salem  Chapel  into  action,  and  produced  that  series 
of  lectures  on  Church  and  State  which,  as  every- 
body knows,  shook  society  in  Carlingford  to  its  very 
foundation. 

"  Now  we've  got  a  young  man  as  is  a  credit  to  us," 
said  Tozer  ;  "  and  now  he's  warming  to  his  work,  as 
I  was  a  little  afraid  of  at  first ;  for  somehow  I  can't 
say  as  I  could  see  to  my  satisfaction,  when  he  first 
come,  that  his  heart  was  in  it, — I  say,  now  as  we've 
got  a  pastor  as  does  us  credit,  I  am  not  the  man  to 
consider  a  bit  of  expense.  My  opinion  is  as  we  should 
take  the  Music  Hall  for  them  lectures.  There's  folks 
might  go  to  the  Music  Hall  as  would  never  come  to 
Salem,  and  we're  responsible  for  our  advantages.  A 
clever  young  man  like  Mr  Vincent  ain't  to  be  named 


122        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLIXGFORD  : 

along  with  Mx  Tufton  ;  we're  the  teachers  of  the 
community,  that's  what  we  are.  I  am  for  being 
public-spirited  —  I  always  was;  and  I  don't  mind 
standing  my  share.  My  opinion  is  as  we  should  lake 
the  Music  Hall.'' 

"If  we  was  charging  sixpence  a-head  or  so " 

said  prudent  Pigeon,  the  poulterer. 

"That's  what  I'll  never  give  my  consent  to  — 
never !  "  said  Tozer.  "  If  we  was  amusin'  the  people, 
we  might  charge  sixpence  a-head  ;  but  mark  my 
words,"  continued  the  butterman,  "  there  ain't  twenty 
men  in  Carlingford,  nor  in  no  other  place,  as  would 
give  sixpence  to  have  their  minds  enlightened.  No, 
sir,  we're  conferring  of  a  boon ;  and  let's  do  it  hand- 
somely, I  say — let's  do  it  handsomely ;  and  here's 
my  name  down  for  five  pound  to  clear  expenses  :  and 
if  every  man  in  Salem  does  as  well,  there  ain't  no 
reason  for  hesitating.  I'm  a  plain  man,  but  I  don't 
make  no  account  of  a  little  bit  of  money  when  a 
principle's  at  stake." 

This  statement  was  conclusive.  When  it  came  to 
the  sacrifice  of  a  little  bit  of  money,  neither  Mrs 
Pigeon  nor  Mrs  Brown  could  have  endured  life  had 
their  husbands  yielded  the  palm  to  Tozer.  And  the 
Music  Hall  was  accordingly  taken ;  and  there,  every 
Wednesday  for  six  weeks,  the  young  Nonconformist 
mounted  his  cheval  de  bataille,  and  broke  his  impetu- 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  123 

ous  spear  against  the  Church.  Perhaps  Carlingford 
was  in  want  of  a  sensation  at  the  moment ;  and  the 
town  was  virgin  soil,  and  had  never  yet  been  invaded 
by  sight  or  sound  of  heresy.  Anyhow,  the  fact  was, 
that  this  fresh  new  voice  attracted  the  ear  of  the  pub- 
lic. That  personal  impetuosity  and  sense  of  wrong 
which  gave  fire  to  the  discourse,  roused  the  interest 
of  the  entire  community.  Mr  Vincent's  lectures 
became  the  fashion  in  Carlingford,  where  nobody  in 
the  higher  levels  of  society  had  ever  heard  before  of 
the  amazing  evils  of  a  Church  Establishment.  Some 
of  the  weaker  or  more  candid  minds  among  the 
audience  were  even  upset  by  the  young  minister's 
arguments.  Two  or  three  young  people  of  both  sexes 
declared  themselves  converted,  and  were  persecuted 
to  their  hearts'  desire  when  they  intimated  their  in- 
tention of  henceforward  joining  the  congregation  of 
Salem.  The  two  Miss  Hemmingswere  thrown  into 
a  state  of  great  distress  and  perplexity,  and  wrung 
their  hands,  and  looked  at  each  other,  as  each  new 
enormity  was  brought  forth.  A  very  animated  in- 
terested audience  filled  the  benches  in  the  Music  Hall 
for  the  three  last  lectures.  It  was  Mr  Tozer's  con- 
viction, whispered  in  confidence  to  all  the  function- 
aries at  Salem,  that  the  rector  himself,  in  a  muffler 
and  blue  spectacles,  listened  in  a  corner  to  the  voice 
of  rebellion  ;  but  no  proof  of  this  monstrous  suppo- 


124  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

sitioii  ever  came  before  the  public.  Notwithstanding, 
the  excitemenl  waa  evident.  ]\Iiss  Wodehouse  took 
tremulous  notes,  her  fingers  quivering  with  anger, 
with  the  intention  of  calling  upon  Mr  \Yentworth  to 
answer  ami  deny  these  assertions.  Dr  Marjoribauks, 
the  old  Scotchman,  who  in  his  heart  enjoyed  a  hit  at 
the  Episcopate,  cried  "Hear,  hear,"  with  his  sturdy 
northern  r  rattling  through  the  hall,  and  clapped  his 
large  brown  hands,  with  a  broad  grin  at  his  daughter, 
who  was  "  high,"  and  one  of  Mr  Wentworth's  sisters 
of  mercy.  But  poor  little  Eose  Lake,  the  drawing- 
master's  daughter,  who  was  going  up  for  confirmation 
next  time  the  bishop  came  to  Carlingford,  turned 
very  pale  under  Mr  Vincent's  teaching.  All  the  dif- 
ferent phases  of  conviction  appeared  in  her  eager 
little  face — first  indignation,  then  doubt,  lastly  horror 
and  intense  determination  to  llee  out  from  Babylon. 
Her  father  laughed,  and  told  her  to  attend  to  her 
needlework,  when  Piose  confided  to  him  her  troubles. 
Her  needlework  !  She  who  had  just  heard  that  the 
Church  was  rotten,  and  tottering  on  its  foundations  ; 
that  it  was  choked  with  filthy  lucre  and  State  sup- 
port ;  that  Church  to  which  she  had  been  about  to 
give  in  her  personal  adhesion.  Bose  put  away  her 
catechism  and  confirmation  good-books,  and  crossed 
to  the  other  side  of  the  street  that  she  might  not  pass 
Masters's,  that  emporium  of  evil.     She  looked  wist- 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  125 

fully  after  the  young  Nonconformist  as  he  passed 
her  on  the  streets,  "wondering  what  high  martyr- 
thoughts  must  be  in  the  apostolic  mind  which  enter- 
tained so  high  a  contempt  for  all  the  honours  and 
distinctions  of  this  world.  Meanwhile  Mr  Vincent 
pursued  his  own  way,  entirely  convinced,  as  was  na- 
tural for  a  young  man,  that  he  was  "  doing  a  great 
work"  in  Carlingford.  He  was  still  in  that  stage  of 
life  when  people  imagine  that  you  have  only  to  state 
the  truth  clearly  to  have  it  believed,  and  that  to  con- 
vince a  man  of  what  is  right  is  all  that  is  necessary 
to  his  immediate  reformation.  But  it  was  not  with 
any  very  distinct  hopes  or  wishes  of  emptying  the 
church  in  Carlingford,  and  crowding  Salem  Chapel, 
that  the  young  man  proceeded.  Such  expectations, 
high  visions  of  a  day  to  come  when  not  a  sitting 
could  be  had  in  Salem  for  love  or  money,  did  indeed 
glance  into  the  souls  of  Tozer  and  his  brother  deacons ; 
but  the  minister  did  not  stand  up  and  deliver  his 
blow  at  the  world — his  outcry  against  things  in  ge- 
neral—his warm  youthful  assertion  that  he  too  had  a 
right  to  all  the  joys  and  privileges  of  humanity, — as, 
by  means  of  sermons,  lectures,  poems,  or  what  not, 
youth  and  poverty,  wherever  they  have  a  chance,  do 
proclaim  their  protest  against  the  world. 

On  the  last  night  of  the  lectures,  just  as  Yincent 
had  taken  his  place  upon  his  platform)  a  rustle,  as  of 


126  CHBONICLES    OF   CAHLINGFORD  : 

some  one  of  importance  entering;  thrilled  the  audience. 
Looking  over  the  sea  oi  heads  before  him,  the  breath 
almosi  Lefl  the  young  minister's  lips  when  he  saw  the 
young  Dowager,  in  all  the  glory  of  full-dress,  thread- 
in-  her  way  through  the  crowd,  which  opened  to  let 
her  pass.  Mr  Vincent  stood  watching  her  progress, 
unaware  that  it  was  time  for  him  to  begin,  and  that 
his  hearers,  less  absorbed  than  he,  were  asking  each 
other  what  it  was  which  had  so  suddenly  paled  his 
face  and  checked  his  utterance.  He  watched  Lady 
Western  and  her  companion  come  slowly  forward  ; 
he  saw  Tozer,  in  a  delighted  bustle,  leading  the  way 
to  one  of  the  raised  seats  of  the  orchestra  close  to  the 
platform.  "When  they  were  seated,  and  not  till  then, 
the  lecturer,  drawing  a  long  gasping  breath,  turned 
to  his  audience.  But  the  crowd  was  hazy  to  his  eyes. 
He  began,  half  mechanically,  to  speak — then  made  a 
sudden  pause,  his  mind  occupied  with  other  things. 
On  the  very  skirts  of  the  crowd,  far  back  at  the  door, 
stood  his  friend  of  Hack  Grove  Street.  In  that  mo- 
mentary pause,  he  saw  her  standing  alone,  with  the 
air  of  a  person  who  had  risen  up  unconsciously  in 
sudden  surprise  and  consternation.  Her  pale  dark 
face  looked  not  less  confused  and  startled  than  Vin- 
cent himself  was  conscious  of  looking,  and  her  eyes 
were  turned  in  the  same  direction  as  his  had  been  the 
previous  moment.     The  crowd  of  Carlingford  hearers 


SALEM    CHAPEL:  127 

died  off  from  the  scene  for  the  instant,  so  far  as  the 
young  Nonconformist  was  concerned.  He  knew  but 
of  that  fair  creature  in  all  her  sweet  bloom  and 
blush  of  beauty  —  the  man  who  accompanied  her 
— Mrs  Hilyard,  a  thin,  dark,  eager  shadow  in  the  dis- 
tance—  and  himself  standing,  as  it  were,  between 
them,  connecting  all  together.  What  could  that  vi- 
sionary link  be  which  distinguished  and  separated 
these  four,  so  unlike  each  other,  from  all  the  rest  of 
the  world?  But  Mr  Vincent  had  no  leisure  to  follow 
out  the  question,  even  had  his  mind  been  sufficiently 
clear  to  do  it.  He  saw  the  pale  woman  at  the  end  of 
the  hall  suddenly  drop  into  her  seat,  and  draw  a  thick 
black  veil  over  her  face ;  and  the  confused  murmur 
of  impatience  in  the  crowd  before  him  roused  the 
young  man  to  his  own  position.  He  opened  the  eyes 
which  had  been  hazing  over  with  clouds  of  imagin- 
ation and  excitement.  He  delivered  his  lecture. 
Though  he  never  was  himself  aware  what  he  had  said, 
it  was  received  with  just  as  much  attention  and 
applause  as  usual.  He  got  through  it  somehow ;  and, 
sitting  down  at  last,  with  parched  lips  and  a  helpless 
feeling  of  excitement,  watched  the  audience  dispers- 
ing, as  if  they  were  so  many  enemies  from  whom  he 
had  escaped.  "Who  was  this  man  with  Her?  Why 
did  She  come  to  bewilder  him  in  the  midst  of  his 
work?     It  did  not  occur  to  the  poor  young  fellow 


128        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

that  Lady  Western  came  to  his  lecture  simply  as  to  a 
"distraction."  lie  thought  she  had  a  purpose  in  it. 
He  pretended  not  to  look  as  she  descended  daintily 
from  her  scat  in  the  orchestra,  drawing  her  white 
cloak  with  a  pretty  shiver  over  her  white  shoulders. 
He  pretended  to  start  when  her  voice  sounded  in  his 
expectant  ear. 

"  Oh,  Mr  Vincent,  how  very  clever  and  wicked  of 
you  !  "  cried  Lady  Western.  "  I  am  so  horrified,  and 
charmed.  To  think  of  you  attacking  the  poor  dear 
old  Church,  that  we  all  ought  to  support  through 
everything  !  And  I  am  such  a  stanch  church  woman, 
and  so  shocked  to  hear  all  this  ;  but  you  won't  do  it 
any  more." 

Saying  this,  Lady  "Western  leaned  her  beautiful 
hand  upon  Mr  Vincent's  table,  and  looked  in  his  face 
with  a  beseeching  insinuating  smile.  The  poor  min- 
ister did  all  he  could  to  preserve  his  virtue.  He 
looked  aside  at  Lady  Western's  companion  to  fortify 
himself,  and  escape  the  enervating  influence  of  that 
smile. 

"  I  cannot  pretend  to  yield  the  matter  to  your  lady- 
ship," said  Vincent,  "  for  it  had  been  previously  ar- 
ranged that  this  was  to  be  the  last  of  my  lectures  at 
present.     I  am  sorry  it  did  not  please  you." 

"  But  it  did  please  me,"  said  the  young  Dowager ; 
"  only  that  it  was  so  very  wicked  and  wrong.    Where 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  129 

did  you  learn  such  dreadful  sentiments?  I  am  so 
sorry  I  shan't  hear  you  again,  and  so  glad  you  are 
finished.  You  never  came  to  see  me  after  my  little 
fete.  I  am  afraid  you  thought  us  stupid.  Good-night : 
but  you  really  must  come  to  me,  and  I  shall  convert 
you.  T  am  sure  you  never  can  have  looked  at  the 
Church  in  the  right  way  :  why,  what  would  become 
of  us  if  we  were  all  Dissenters  ?  What  a  frightful 
idea !  Thank  you  for  such  a  charming  evening.  Good- 
night." 

And  Lady  Western  held  out  that  "  treasured 
splendour,  her  hand,"  to  the  bewildered  Noncon- 
formist, who  only  dared  touch  it,  and  let  it  fall, 
drawing  back  from  the  smile  with  which  the  syren 
beguiled  him  back  again  into  her  toils.  But  Mr 
Vincent  turned  round  hastily  as  he  heard  a  mut- 
tered exclamation,  "  By  Jove  ! "  behind  him,  and 
fixed  the  gaze  of  angry  and  instinctive  repugnance 
upon  the  tall  figure  which  brushed  past.  "  Make 
haste,  Alice — do  you  mean  to  stay  here  all  night  ? " 
said  this  wrathful  individual,  fixing  his  eyes  with 
a  defiant  stare  upon  the  minister ;  and  he  drew  the 
beauty's  arm  almost  roughly  into  his  own,  and 
hurried  her  away,  evidently  remonstrating  in  the 
freest  and  boldest  manner  upon  her  civility.  "By 
Jove !   the  fellow  will  think  you  are  in  love  with 

him,"  Vincent,  with  his  quickened  and  suspicious 
VOL.  i.  I 


130        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

ears,  could  hear  the  stranger  say,  with  that  delightful 

indifference  to  being  overheard  which  characterises 
some  Englishmen  of  the  exalted  classes;  and  the 
Btrain  of  n  proof  evidently  continued  as  they  made 
their  way  to  the  door.  Vincent,  for  his  part,  when 
he  had  watched  them  out  of  sight,  dropped  into  his 
chair,  and  sat  there  in  the  empty  hall,  looking  over 
the  vacant  benches  with  the  strangest  mixture  of 
feelings.  Was  it  possible  that  his  eager  fervour  and 
revolutionary  warmth  were  diminished  by  these  few 
words  and  that  smile  ? — that  the  wrongs  of  Church 
and  State  looked  less  grievous  all  at  once,  and  that  it 
was  an  effort  to  return  to  the  lofty  state  of  feeling 
with  which  he  had  entered  the  place  two  hours  ago  ? 
As  he  sat  there  in  his  reverie  of  discomfiture,  he 
could  see  Tozer,  a  single  black  figure,  come  slowly 
up  the  hall,  an  emissary  from  the  group  at  the  door 
of  "  chapel  people,"'  who  had  been  enjoying  the  defeat 
of  the  enemy,  and  wrere  now  waiting  for  the  con- 
queror. "Mr  Vincent,"  shouted  Tozer,  "shall  we 
turn  off  the  gas,  and  leave  you  to  think  it  all  over 
till  the  morning,  sir?  They're  all  as  pleased  as 
Punch  and  as  curious  as  women  down  below  here, 
and  my  Phoebe  will  have  it  you're  tired.  I  must  say 
as  it  is  peculiar  to  see  you  a-sitting  up  there  all  by 
yourself,  and  the  lights  going  out,  and  not  another 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  131 

soul  in  the  place,"  added  the  butterman,  looking 
round  with  a  sober  grin ;  and  in  reality  the  lights 
diminished  every  moment  as  Mr  Vincent  rose  and 
stumbled  down  from  his  platform  into  the  great  empty 
hall  with  its  skeleton  benches.  If  they  had  left  him 
there  till  the  morning,  it  would  have  been  a  blessed 
exchange  from  that  walk  home  with  the  party,  that 
invitation  to  supper,  and  all  the  applauses  and  in- 
quiries that  followed.  They  had  the  Pigeons  to 
supper  that  night  at  the  butter-shop,  and  the  whole 
matter  was  discussed  in  all  its  bearings — the  flutter 
of  the  "  Church  folks/'  the  new  sittings  let  during 
the  week,  the  triumphant  conviction  of  the  two 
deacons  that  Salem  would  soon  be  overflowing. 

"  Oh,  why  were  '  deacons'  made  so  coarse, 
Or  parsons  made  so  tine  ?  " 

Mr  Vincent  did  not  bethink  himself  of  that  touch- 
ing ditty.  He  could  not  see  the  serio-comic  lights  in 
which  the  whole  business  abounded.  It  was  all  the 
saddest  earnest  to  the  young  pastor,  who  found  so 
little  encouragement  or  support  even  in  the  enthusi- 
asm of  his  flock. 

"  And,  oh,  Mr  Vincent,"  said  the  engaging  Phoebe, 
in  a  half- whisper  aside,  "  how  did  you  come  to  be  so. 
friendly  with  Lady  Western  ?     How  she  did  listen, 


132        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

to  be  sure!  and  smiled  at  you  so  sweetly.  Ah,  I 
don'1  wonder  now  that  you  can't  see  anything  in  the 
Carlingford  young  ladies  ;  but  do  tell  us,  please,  how 
yon  came  to  know  her  so  well?" 

Insensibly  to  himself,  a  gleam  of  gratification 
lighted  up  Mr  Vincent's  face.  He  was  gracious  to 
Phoebe.  "  I  can't  pretend  to  know  her  well,"  he  said, 
with  a  little  mock  humility  ;  whereupon  the  matrons 
of  the  party  took  up  their  weapons  immediately. 

"  And  all  the  better,  Mr  Vincent— all  the  better !  " 
cried  Mrs  Tozer  ;  "  she  didn't  come  there  for  no 
good,  you  may  be  sure.  Them  great  ladies,  when 
they're  pretty-looking,  as  I  don't  deny  she's  pretty- 
looking " 

"  Oh,  mamma,  beautiful ! "  exclaimed  Phoebe. 

"  When  they're  pretty-looking,  as  I  say,"  continued 
Mrs  Tozer,  "  they're  no  better  nor  evil  spirits — that's 
what  I  tell  you,  Phoebe.  They'll  go  out  o'  their  way, 
they  will,  for  to  lay  hold  on  a  poor  silly  young  man 
(which  was  not  meaning  you,  Mr  Vincent,  that 
knows  better,  being  a  minister),  and  when  they've 
got  him  fast,  they'll  laugh  at  him — that's  their  sport. 
A  minister  of  our  connection  as  was  well  acquainted 
among  them  sort  of  folks  would  be  out  o'#  nature. 
My  boy  shall  never  make  no  such  acquaintances  as 
long  as  I'm  here." 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  133 

"  I  saw  her  a-speaking  to  the  minister,"  said  Mrs 
Pigeon,  "and  the  thought  crossed  my  mind  as  it 
wasn't  just  what  I  expected  of  Mr  Vincent.  Painted 
ladies,  that  come  out  of  a  night  with  low  necks 
and  flowers  in  their  hair,  to  have  all  Carlingford  a- 
staring  at  them,  ain't  fit  company  for  a  good  pastor. 
Thems  not  the  lambs  of  the  flock — not  so  far  as  I 
understand  ;  they're  not  friends  as  Salem  folks  would 
approve  of,  Mr  Vincent.  I'm  always  known  for  a 
plain  speaker,  and  I  don't  deceive  you.  It's  a  deal 
better  to  draw  back  in  time." 

"  I  have  not  the  least  reason  to  believe  that  Lady 
Western  means  to  honour  me  with  her  friendship," 
said  Vincent,  haughtily — "so  it  is  premature  to 
discuss  the  matter.  As  I  feel  rather  tired,  perhaps 
you'll  excuse  me  to-night.  Come  over  to  my  rooms, 
Mr  Tozer,  to-morrow,  if  you  can  spare  a  little  time 
and  we  will  discuss  our  business  there.  I  hope  Mrs 
Tozer  will  pardon  me  withdrawing  so  early,  but  I  am 
not  very  well — rather  tired — out  of  sorts  a  little  to- 
night." 

So  saying,  the  young  pastor  extricated  himself 
from  the  table,  shook  hands,  regardless  of  all  remon- 
strances, and  made  his  way  out  with  some  difficulty 
from  the  little  room,  which  was  choke-full,  and 
scarcely  permitted  egress.     When  he  was  gone,  the 


134  CHRONICLES    OF    CARLINGFORD  : 

three  ladies  looked  at  each  other  iu  dumb  amazement. 
Phoebe,  who  felt  herself  aggrieved,  was  the  first  to 
break  silence. 

"  Ma  and  Mrs  Pigeon,"  cried  the  aggravated  girl, 
"  you've  been  and  hurt  his  feelings.  I  knew  you 
would.  He's  gone  home  angry  and  disappointed  ;  he 
thinks  none  of  us  understand  him  ;  he  thinks  we're 
trying  to  humble  him  and  keep  him  down,  when,  to 
tell  the  truth " 

Here  Phoebe  burst  into  tears. 

"Upon  my  word,"  said  Mrs  Pigeon,  "dear,  deary 
me  !  It's  just  what  I  said  whenever  I  knew  you  had 
made  up  your  minds  to  a  young  minister.  He'll 
come  a-dangling  after  our  girls,  says  I,  and  a-trifling 
with  their  affections.  Bless  my  heart,  Phcebe !  if  it 
had  been  my  Maria  now  that's  always  a-crying  about 
something — but  you  !  Don't  take  on,  dear — fretting's 
no  good — it'll  spoil  your  colour  and  take  away  your 
appetite,  and  that  ain't  the  way  to  mend  matters  :  and 
to  think  of  his  lifting  his  eyes  to  my  Lady  Dowager! 
Upon  my  word  !  but  their  ain't  no  accounting  for 
young  men's  ways  no  more  than  for  girls — and  being 
a  minister  don't  make  a  bit  of  difference,  so  far  as  I 
can  see." 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?"  cried  Tozer :  "the 
pastor's  gone  off  in  a  huff,  and  Phoebe  crying.    What's 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  135 

wrong  ?  You've  been  saying  somethin' — you  women 
with  your  sharp  tongues." 

"  It's  Phoebe  and  Mr  Vincent  have  had  some 
words.  Be  quiet,  Tozer — don't  you  see  the  child's 
hurt  in  her  feelings  ? "  said  his  wife. 

Mr  and  Mrs  Pigeon  exchanged  looks.  "  I'll  tell 
you  what  it  is,"  said  the  latter  lady,  solemnly.  "  It's 
turned  his  head.  I  never  approved  of  the  Music 
Hall  myself.  It's  a  deal  of  money  to  throw  away, 
and  it's  not  like  as  if  it  was  mercy  to  poor  souls. 
And  such  a  crush,  and  the  cheering,  and  my  Lady 
Western  to  shake  hands  with  him,  has  turned  the 
minister's  head.  Now,  just  you  mark  my  words. 
He  hasn't  been  here  three  month  yet,  and  he's  a-get- 
ting  high  already.  You  men'll  have  your  own  adoes 
with  him.  Afore  a  year's  over  our  heads,  he'll  be  a 
deal  too  high  for  Salem.  His  head's  turned — thats 
what  it  is." 

"Oh,  Mrs  Pigeon,  how  unkind  of  you!"    cried 

Phoebe,  "  when  he's  as  good  as  good — and  not  a  bit 

proud,  nor  ever  was — and  always  such  a  gentleman  ! 

— and  never  neglects  the  very  poorest  whenever  he's 

'sent  for — oh,  it's  so  unkind  of  you." 

"  I  can't  see  as  his  head  isn't  straight  enough  on 
his  shoulders,"  said  Tozer  himself,  with  authority. 
"He's  tired,  that's  what  it  is — and  excited  a  bit,  I 


136       CHBGNICLEB  OF  CARLINGFORD. 

shouldn't  wonder:  a  man  can't  study  like  lie  does, 
and  make  hisself  agreeable  at  the  same  time — no,  no 
— by  a  year's  time  he'll  be  settling  down,  and  we'll 
know  where  we  are  ;  and  as  for  Salem  and  our  con- 
nection, they  never  had  a  chance,  I  can  tell  you,  like 
what  they're  a-going  to  have  now.'" 

But  Mrs  Pigeon  shook  her  head.  It  wras  the  first 
cloud  that  had  risen  on  the  firmament  of  Salem 
Chapel,  so  far  as  Mr  Vincent  was  concerned. 


CHAPTER    IX. 


It  was  a  January  night  on  which  Vincent  emerged 
abruptly  from  Tozer's  door,  the  evening  of  that  lec- 
ture— a  winter  night,  not  very  cold,  but  very  dark, 
the  skies  looking  not  blue,  but  black  overhead,  and 
the  light  of  the  lamps  gleaming  dismally  on  the 
pavement,  which  had  received  a  certain  squalid 
power  of  reflection  from  the  recent  rain  ;  for  a  sharp, 
sudden  shower  had  fallen  while  Vincent  had  been 
seated  at  the  hospitable  table  of  the  butterman,  which 
had  chased  everybody  from  the  darkling  streets.  All 
the  shops  were  closed,  a  policeman  marched  along 
with  heavy  tread,  and  the  wet  pavement  glimmered 
round  his  solitary  figure.  Nothing  more  uncomfort- 
able could  be  supposed  after  the  warmth  and  light  of 
a  snug  interior,  however  humble  ;  and  the  minister 
turned  his  face  hastily  in  the  direction  of  his  lodging. 
But  the  next  moment  he  turned  back  again,  and 
looked  wistfully  in  the  other  direction.     It  was  not 


138       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLLXGFORD  : 

to  gaze  along  the  dark  length,  of  street  to  where  the 
garden-walla  of  Grange  Lane,  nn discernible  in  the 
darkness,  added  a  far- withdrawing  perspective  of 
gentility  and  aristocratic  seclusion  to  the  vulgar  pre- 
tensions of  George  Street ;  it  was  to  look  at  a  female 
figure  which  came  slowly  up,  dimming  out  the  re- 
flection on  the  wet  stones  as  it  crossed  one  streak  of 
lamplight  after  another.  Vincent  was  excited  and 
curious,  and  had  enough  in  his  own  mind  to  make 
him  wistful  for  sympathy,  if  it  were  to  be  had  from 
any  understanding  heart.  He  recognised  Mrs  Hil- 
yard  instinctively  as  she  came  forward,  not  conscious 
of  him,  walking,  strange  woman  as  she  was,  with  the 
air  of  a  person  walking  by  choice  at  that  melancholy 
hour  in  that  dismal  night.  She  was  evidently  not 
going  anywhere :  her  step  was  firm  and  distinct,  like 
the  step  of  a  person  thoroughly  self-possessed  and 
afraid  of  nothing — but  it  lingered  with  a  certain 
meditative  sound  in  the  steady  firm  footfall.  Vin- 
cent felt  a  kind  of  conviction  that  she  had  come  out 
here  to  think  over  some  problem  of  that  mysterious 
life  into  which  he  could  not  penetrate,  and  he  con- 
nected this  strange  walk  involuntarily  with  the 
appearance  of  Lady  Western  and  her  careless  com- 
panion. To  his  roused  fancy,  some  incomprehensible 
link  existed  between  himself  and  the  equally  incom- 
prehensible woman  before  him.      He  turned  back 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  139 

almost  in  spite  of  himself,  and  went  to  meet  her. 
Mrs  Hilyard  looked  up  when  she  heard  his  step. 
She  recognised  him  also  on  the  spot.  They  ap- 
proached each  other  much  as  if  they  had  arranged 
a  meeting  at  eleven  o'clock  of  that  wet  January  night 
in  the  gleaming,  deserted  streets. 

"It  is  you,  Mr  Vincent!"  she  said.  "I  wonder 
why  I  happen  to  meet  you,  of  all  persons  in  the 
world,  to-night.  It  is  very  odd.  What,  I  wonder, 
can  have  brought  us  both  together  at  such  an  hour 
and  in  such  a  place  ?  You  never  came  to  see  me 
that  Monday — nor  any  Monday.  You  went  to  see 
my  beauty  instead,  and  you  were  so  lucky  as  to  be 
affronted  with  the  syren  at  the  first  glance.  Had 
you  been  less  fortunate,  I  think  I  might  have  partly 
taken  you  into  my  confidence  to-night." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  less  fortunate,  if  that  is  all  that 
hinders,"  said  Vincent ;  "  but  it  is  strange  to  see  you 
out  here  so  late  in  such  a  dismal  night.  Let  me  go 
with  you,  and  see  you  safe  home." 

"  Thank  you.  I  am  perfectly  safe — nobody  can 
possibly  be  safer  than  such  a  woman  as  I  am,  in 
poverty  and  middle  age,"  said  his  strange  acquaint- 
ance. "  It  is  an  immunity  that  women  don't  often 
prize,  Mr  Vincent,  but  it  is  very  valuable  in  its  way. 
If  anybody  saw  you  talking  to  an  equivocal  female 
figure  at  eleven  o'clock  in  George  Street,  think  what 


140       CHRONICLES  Of  CARLINGFOBD  : 

the  butterman  would  say ;  but  a  single  glimpse  of  my 
face  would  explain  matters  better  than  a  volume.  I 
am  going  down  towards  Grange  Lane,  principally 
because  1  am  restless  to-night,  and  don't  know  what 
to  do  with  myself.  I  shall  tell  you  what  I  thought 
of  your  lecture  if  you  will  walk  with  me  to  the  end 
of  the  street." 

"  Ah,  my  lecture  ? — never  mind,"  said  the  hapless 
young  minister  ;  "  I  forget  all  about  that.  AVhat  is 
it  that  brings  you  here,  and  me  to  your  side  ? — what 
is  there  in  that  dark-veiled  house  yonder  that  draws 
your  steps  and  mine  to  it  ?  It  is  not  accidental,  our 
meeting  here." 

"  You  are  talking  romance  and  nonsense,  quite 
inconceivable  in  a  man  who  has  just  come  from  the 
society  of  deacons,"  said  Mrs  Hilyard,  glancing  up 
at  him  with  that  habitual  gleam  of  her  eyes.  "We 
have  met,  my  dear  Mr  Vincent,  because,  after  refresh- 
in-  my  mind  with  your  lecture,  I  thought  of  refresh- 
ing my  body  by  a  walk  this  fresh  night.  One  saves 
candles,  you  know,  when  one  does  one's  exercise  at 
night:  whereas  walking  by  day  one  wastes  every- 
thing— time,  tissue,  daylight,  invaluable  treasures : 
the  only  light  that  hurts  nobody's  eyes,  and  costs 
nobody  money,  is  the  light  of  day.  That  illustration 
of  yours  about  the  clouds  and  the  sun  was  very 
pretty.     I  assure  you  I  thought  the  whole  exceed- 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  141 

ingly  effective.  I  should  not  wonder  if  it  made  a 
revolution  in  Carlingford." 

"  Why  do  you  speak  to  me  so  ?  I  know  you  did 
not  go  to  listen  to  my  lecture,"  said  the  young  min- 
ister, to  whom  sundry  gleams  of  enlightenment  had 
come  since  his  last  interview  with  the  poor  needle- 
woman of  Back  Grove  Street. 

"Ah  !  how  can  you  tell  that?"  she  said,  sharply, 
looking  at  him  in  the  streak  of  lamplight.  "  But  to 
tell  the  truth,"  she  continued,  "  I  did  actually  go  to 
hear  you,  and  to  look  at  other  people's  faces,  just  to 
see  whether  the  world  at  large — so  far  as  that  exists 
in  Carlingford — was  like  what  it  used  to  be  ;  and  if 
I  confess  I  saw  something  there  more  interesting 
than  the  lecture,  -I  say  no  more  than  the  lecturer 
could  agree  in,  Mr  Vincent.  You,  too,  saw  some- 
thing that  made  you  forget  the  vexed  question  of 
Church  and  State." 

"Tell  me,"  said  Vincent,  with  an  earnestness  he 
was  himself  surprised  at,  "  who  was  that  man  ? " 

His  companion  started  as  if  she  had  received  a 
blow,  turned  round  upon  him  with  a  glance  in  her 
dark  eyes  such  as  he  had  never  seen  there  before, 
and  in  a  sudden  momentary  passion  drew  her  breath 
hard,  and  stopped  short  on  the  way.  But  the  spark 
of  intense  and  passionate  emotion  was  as  shortlived 
as  it  was  vivid.     "  I  do  not  suppose  he  is  anything 


142  CHRONICLES   OF    C'ARLINGFOIID  : 

to  interest  you,"  she  answered  the  next  moment,  with 
a  movement  of  her  thin  mouth,  letting  the  hands  thai 
she  had  clasped  together  drop  to  her  side.  "Nay, 
make  yourself  quite  easy;  he  is  not  a  lover  of  my 
lady's.  Hi'  is  only  a  near  relation: — and,"  she 
continued,  lingering  on  the  words  with  a  force  of 
subdued  scorn  and  rage,  which  Vincent  dimly  ap- 
prehended, but  could  not  understand,  "  a  very  fas- 
cinating fine  gentleman — a  man  who  can  twist  a 
woman  round  his  fingers  when  he  likes,  and  break 
all  her  heartstrings — if  she  has  any — so  daintily 
afterwards,  that  it  would  be  a  pleasure  to  see  him  do 
it.     Ah,  a  wonderful  man  ! " 

"  You  know  him  then  ?  I  saw  you  knew  him," 
said  the  young  man,  surprised  and  disturbed,  thrust- 
ing the  first  commonplace  words  he  could  think  of 
into  the  silence,  which  seemed  to  tingle  with  the  re- 
strained meaning  of  this  brief  speech. 

"  I  don't  think  we  are  lucky  in  choosing  our  sub- 
jects to-night/'  said  the  strange  woman.  "  How  about 
the  ladies  in  Lonsdale,  Mr  Vincent  ?  They  don't  keep 
a  school?  I  am  glad  they  don't  keep  a  school. 
Teaching,  you  know,  unless  when  one  has  a  vocation 
for  it,  as  you  had  a  few  weeks  ago,  is  uphill  work. 
T  am  sorry  to  see  you  are  not  so  sure  about  your 
work  as  you  were  then.  Your  sister  is  pretty,  I  sup- 
pose ?  and  does  your  mother  take  great  care  of  her 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  143 

and  keep  her  out  of  harm's  way  ?  Lambs  have  a  silly 
faculty  of  running  directly  in  the  wolf's  road.  Why 
don't  you  take  a  holiday  and  go  to  see  them,  or  have 
them  here  to  live  with  you?" 

"  You  know  something  about  them,"  said  Vincent, 
alarmed.  "  What  has  happened  ? — tell  me.  It  will 
be  the  greatest  kindness  to  say  it  out  at  once." 

"  Hush,"  said  Mrs  Hilyard  ;  "now  you  are  absurd. 
I  speak  out  of  my  own  thoughts,  as  most  persons  do, 
and  you,  like  all  young  people,  make  personal  appli- 
cations. How  can  I  possibly  know  about  them  ?  T 
am  not  a  fanciful  woman,  but  there  are  some  things 
that  wake  one's  imagination.  In  such  a  dark  night 
as  this,  with  such  wet  gleams  about  the  streets,  when 
I  think  of  people  at  a  distance,  I  always  think  of 
something  uncomfortable  happening.  Misfortune 
seems  to  lie  in  wait  about  those  black  corners.  I 
think  of  women  wandering  along  dismal  solitary 
roads  with  babies  in  their  shameful  arms — and  of 
dreadful  messengers  of  evil  approaching  unconscious 
houses,  and  looking  in  at  peaceful  windows  upon  the 
comfort  they  are  about  to  destroy  ;  and  I  think,"  she 
continued,  crossing  the  road  so  rapidly  (they  were  now 
opposite  Lady  Western's  house)  that  Vincent,  who  had 
not  anticipated  the  movement,  had  to  quicken  his 
pace  suddenly  to  keep  up  with  her,  "  of  evil  creatures 
pondering  in  the  dark  vile  schemes  against  the  in- 


144  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

nocent "  Here  she  broke  off  all  at  once,  and,  look- 
ing up  in  Vincent's  fare  with  that  gleam  of  secret  mock- 
ery in  her  eyes  and  movement  of  her  mouth  to  which 
he  was  accustomed,  added,  suddenly  changing  her 
tone,  "  Or  of  fine  gentlemen,  Mr  Vincent,  profoundly 
bored  with  their  own  society,  promenading  in  a  dreary 
garden  and  smoking  a  disconsolate  cigar.  Look  there!" 
The  young  minister,  much  startled  and  rather  ner- 
vous, mechanically  looked,  as  she  bade  him,  through 
the  little  grated  loophole  in  Lady  Western's  garden- 
door.  He  saw  the  lights  shining  in  the  windows,  and 
a  red  spark  moving  about  before  the  house,  as,  with 
a  little  shame  for  his  undignified  position,  he  with- 
drew his  eyes  from  that  point  of  vantage.  But  Mrs 
Hilyard  was  moved  by  no  such  sentiment.  She 
planted  herself  opposite  the  door,  and,  bending  her 
head  to  the  little  grating,  gazed  long  and  steadfastly. 
In  the  deep  silence  of  the  night,  standing  with  some 
uneasiness  at  her  side,  and  not  insensible  to  the  fact 
that  his  position,  if  he  were  seen  by  anybody  who 
knew  him,  would  be  rather  absurd  and  slightly  equi- 
vocal,  Vincent  heard  the  footsteps  of  the  man  inside, 
the  fragrance  of  whose  cigar  faintly  penetrated  the 
damp  air.  The  stranger  was  evidently  walking  up 
and  down  before  the  house  in  enjoyment  of  that  lux- 
ury which  the  feminine  arrangements  of  the  young 
Dowager's  household  would  not  permit  indoors  ;  but 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  145 

the  steady  eagerness  with  which  this  strange  woman 
gazed — the  way  in  which  she  had  managed  to  inter- 
weave Mrs  Vincent  and  pretty  Susan  at  Lonsdale 
into  the  conversation — the  suggestions  of  coming  dan- 
ger and  evil  with  which  her  words  had  invested  the 
very  night,  all  heightened  by  the  instinctive  repug- 
nance and  alarm  of  which  the  young  man  had  himself 
been  conscious  whenever  he  met  the  eye  of  Lady 
Western's  companion — filled  him  with  discomfort  and 
dread.  His  mind,  which  had  been  lately  too  much 
occupied  in  his  own  concerns  to  think  much  of  Susan, 
reverted  now  with  sudden  uneasiness  to  his  mother's 
cottage,  from  which  Susan's  betrothed  had  lately  de- 
parted to  arrange  matters  for  their  speedy  marriage. 
But  how  Lady  Western's  "near  relation" — this  man 
whom  Mrs  Hilyard  watched  with  an  intense  regard 
which  looked  like  hatred,  but  might  be  dead  love — 
could  be  connected  with  Lonsdale,  or  Susan,  or  him- 
self, or  the  poor  needlewoman  in  Back  Grove  Street. 
Vincent  could  not  form  the  remotest  idea.  He  stood 
growing  more  and  more  impatient  by  that  dark  closed 
door,  which  had  once  looked  a  gate  of  paradise — which, 
he  felt  in  his  heart,  half-a-dozen  words  or  a  single 
smile  could  any  day  make  again  a  gate  of  the  para- 
dise of  fools  to  his  bewildered  feet — the  steps  of  the 
unseen  stranger  within,  and  the  quick  breath  of  agi- 
tation from  the  watcher  by  his  side,  being  the  only 

VOL.  I.  K 


146  CHRONICLES   OF   CABLINOFORD  : 

Bounds  audible  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  At  last 
some  restless  movement  ho  made  disturbed  Mrs  Hil- 
yard  in  her  watch.  She  left  the  door  noiselessly  and 
rapidly,  and  turned  to  recross  the  wet  road.  Vincent 
accompanied  her  without  saying  a  word.  The  two 
walked  along  together  half  the  length  of  Grange 
Lane  without  breaking  silence,  without  even  looking 
at  each  other,  till  they  came  to  the  large  placid  white 
lamp  at  Dr  Marjoribanks's  gate,  which  cleared  a  little 
oasis  of  light  out  of  the  heart  of  the  gloom.  There 
she  looked  up  at  him  with  a  face  full  of  agitated  life 
and  motion — kindled  eyes,  elevated  head,  nostril  and 
lips  swelling  with  feelings  which  were  totally  undeci- 
pherable to  Vincent  ;  her  whole  aspect  changed  by 
an  indescribable  inspiration  which  awoke  remnants 
of  what  might  have  been  beauty  in  that  thin,  dark, 
middle-aged  face. 

"You  are  surprised  at  me  and  my  curiosity,"  she 
said,  "and  indeed  you  have  good  reason;  but  it  is 
astonishing,  when  one  is  shut  up  in  one's  self  and 
knows  nobody,  how  excited  one  gets  over  the  sudden 
apparition  of  a  person  one  has  known  in  the  other 
world.  Some  people  die  two  or  three  times  in  a  life- 
time, Mr  Vincent.  There  is  a  real  transmigration  of 
souls,  or  bodies,  or  both  if  you  please.  This  is  my 
third  life  T  am  going  through  at  present.  I  knew 
that  man,  as  I  was  saying,  in  the  other  world." 


SALE3I    CHAPEL.  147 

"  The  world  does  change  strangely,"  said  Vincent, 
who  could  not  tell  what  to  say  ;  "  but  you  put  it  very 
strongly — more  strongly  than  I " 

"  More  strongly  than  you  can  understand  ;  I  know 
that  very  well,"  said  Mrs  Hilyard  ;  "but  you  perceive 
you  are  speaking  to  a  woman  who  has  died  twice. 
Coming  to  life  is  a  bitter  process,  but  one  gets  over 
it.  If  you  ever  should  have  such  a  thing  to  go  through 
with — and  survive  it,"  she  added,  giving  him  a  wist- 
ful glance,  "  I  should  like  to  tell  you  my  experiences. 
However,  I  hope  better  things.  You  are  very  well 
looked  after  at  Salem  Chapel,  Mr  Vincent  I  think 
of  you  sometimes  when  I  look  out  of  my  window  and 
see  your  tabernacle.  It  is  not  so  pretty  as  Mr  YVent- 
worth's  at  St  Roque's,  but  you  have  the  advantage  of 
the  curate  otherwise.  So  far  as  I  can  see,  he  never 
occupies  himself  with  anything  higher  than  his 
prayer-book  and  his  poor  people.  I  doubt  much 
whether  he  would  ever  dream  of  replying  to  what 
you  told  us  to-night." 

"  Probably  he  holds  a  Dissenting  minister  in  too 
much  contempt,"  said  Vincent,  with  an  uncomfortable 
smile  on  his  lips. 

"Don't  sneer — never  sneer— no  gentleman  does," 
said  his  companion.  "  I  like  you,  though  you  are 
only  a  Dissenting  minister.  You  know  me  to  be  very 
poor,  and  you  have  seen  me  in  very  odd  circum- 


148       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

stances  fco-nighl  ;   yet  you  walk  home  with  me — I 

perceive  you  are  steering  towards  Back  Grove  Street, 
MrVincenl — without  an  illusion  which  could  make 
me  feel  myself  an  equivocal  person,  and  just  as  if  this 
was  the  most  reasonable  thing  in  the  world  which  I 
have  being  doing  to-night.  Thank  you.  You  are  a 
paladin  in  some  things,  though  in  others  only  a  Dis- 
senting minister.  If  1  were  a  fairy,  the  gift  I  would 
endow  you  with  would  he  just  that  same  unconscious- 
ness of  your  own  disadvantages,  which  courtesy 
makes  you  show  of  mine." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Vincent,  with  natural  gratification, 
"it  required  no  discrimination  on  my  part  to  recog- 
nise at  once  that  I  was  addressing " 

"  Hush  !  you  have  never  even  insinuated  that  an 
explanation  was  necessary,  which  is  the  very  height 
and  climax  of  fine  manners,"  said  Mrs  Hilyard;  "and 
I  speak  who  am,  or  used  to  be,  an  authority  in  such 
matters.  I  don't  mean  to  give  you  any  explanation 
either.  Now,  you  must  turn  back  and  go  home. 
Good-night.  One  thing  I  may  tell  you,  however," 
she  continued,  with  a  little  warmth  ;  "don't  mistake 
me.  There  is  no  reason  in  this  world  why  you  might 
not  introduce  me  to  the  ladies  in  Lonsdale,  if  any 
accident  brought  it  about  that  we  should  meet.  I  say 
this  to  make  your  mind  easy  about  your  penitent ;  and 
now,  my  good  young  father  in  the  faith,  good-night." 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  149 

"  Let  me  see  you  to  your  door  first,"  said  the  won- 
dering young  man. 

"  No — no  farther.  Good-night,"  she  said,  hastily, 
shaking  hands,  and  leaving  him.  The  parting  was  so 
sudden  that  it  took  Vincent  a  minute  to  stop  short, 
under  way  and  walking  quickly  as  he  was.  When 
she  had  made  one  or  two  rapid  steps  in  advance,  Mrs 
Hilyard  turned  back,  as  if  with  a  sudden  impulse. 

"  Do  you  know  I  have  an  uneasiness  about  these 
ladies  in  Lonsdale  ? "  she  said ;  "  I  know  nothing 
whatever  about  them — not  so  much  as  their  names  ; 
but  you  are  their  natural  protector ;  and  it  does  not 
do  for  women  to  be  as  magnanimous  and  generous  in 
the  reception  of  strangers  as  you  are.  There  !  don't 
be  alarmed.  I  told  you  1  knew  nothing.  They  may 
be  as  safe,  and  as  middle-aged,  and  as  ugly  as  I  am  ; 
instead  of  a  guileless  widow  and  a  pretty  little  girl, 
they  may  be  hardened  old  campaigners  like  myself ; 
but  they  come  into  my  mind,  I  cannot  tell  why. 
Have  them  here  to  live  beside  you,  and  they  will  do 
you  good." 

"  My  .sister  is  about  to  be  married,"  said  Vincent, 
more  and  more  surprised,  and  looking  very  sharply 
into  her  face  in  the  lamplight,  to  see  whether  she 
really  did  not  know  anything  more  than  she  said. 

A  certain  expression  of  relief  came  over  her  face. 

"  Then  all  is  well,"  she  said,  with  strange  cordiality, 


150  CHRONICLES  OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

and  again  held  oul  her  hand  to  him.  Then  they 
parted,  and  pursued  their  several  ways  through  the 
perfectly  Bileni  and  dimly-lighted  streets.  Vincenl 
walked  home  with  the  most  singular  agitation  in  his 
mind.  Whether  to  give  any  weight  to  such  vague 
bul  alarming  suggestions  —  whether  to  act  imme- 
diately upon  the  idefinite  terror  thus  insinuated  into 
his  thoughts — or  to  write,  and  wait  till  he  heard 
whet liei'  any  real  danger  existed — or  to  east  it  from 
him  altogether  as  a  fantastic  trick  of  imagination,  he 
could  not  tell.  Eventful  and  exciting  as  the  evening 
had  been,  he  postponed  the  other  matters  to  this.  If 
any  danger  threatened  Susan,  his  simple  mother  could 
suffer  with  her,  hut  was  ill  qualified  to  protect  her  : 
bul  what  danger  could  threaten  Susan?  He  consoled 
himself  with  the  thought  that  these  were  not  the  days 
of  abductions  or  violent  love-making.  To  think  of  an 
innocent  English  girl  in  her  mother's  house  as  threat- 
ened with  mysterious  danger,  such  as  might  have 
surrounded  a  heroine  of  the  last  century,  was  im- 
possible. If  there  are  Squire  Thornhills  nowadays, 
their  operations  are  of  a  different  character.  Walking 
rapidly  home,  with  now  and  then  a  blast  of  chill 
rain  in  his  face,  and  the  lamplight  gleaming  in  the 
wet  streets,  Vincent  found  less  and  less  reason  for 
attaching  any  importance  to  Mrs  Hilyard's  hints  and 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  151 

alarms.  It  was  the  sentiment  of  the  night,  and  her 
own  thoughts,  which  had  suggested  such  fears  to  her 
mind — a  mind  evidently  experienced  in  paths  more 
crooked  than  any  which  Vincent  himself,  much  less 
simple  Susan,  had  ever  known.  When  he  reached 
home,  he  found  his  little  fire  burning  brightly,  his 
room  arranged  with  careful  nicety,  which  was  his 
landlady's  appropriate  and  sensible  manner  of  show- 
ing her  appreciation  of  the  night's  lecture,  and  her 
devotion  to  the  minister ;  and,  lastly,  on  the  table  a 
letter  from  that  little  house  in  Lonsdale,  round  which 
such  fanciful  fears  had  gathered.  Never  was  there  a 
letter  which  breathed  more  of  the  peaceful  security 
and  tranquillity  of  home.  Mrs  Vincent  wrote  to  her 
Arthur  in  mingled  rejoicing  and  admonition,  curious 
and  delighted  to  hear  of  his  lectures,  but  not  more 
anxious  about  his  fame  and  success  than  about  his 
flannels  and  precautions  against  wet  feet ;  while 
Susan's  postscript — a  half  longer  than  the  letter  to 
which  it  was  appended — furnished  her  affectionate 
brother  with  sundry  details,  totally  incomprehensible 
to  him,  of  her  wedding  preparations,  and,  more  shyly, 
of  her  perfect  girlish  happiness.  Vincent  laughed 
aloud  as  he  folded  up  that  woman's  letter.  No 
mysterious  horror,  no  whispering  doubtful  gloom, 
sin  rounded    that    house    from  which  the   pure,   full 


152  CHBONH  LES   OF    CARLINGFORD. 

daylight  atmosphere,  untouched  by  any  darkness, 
breathed  fresh  upon  him  out  of  these  simple  pages. 
Here,  in  this  humble  virtuous  world,  were  no  mys- 
teries. It  was  a  deliverance  to  a  heart  which  had 
begun  to  falter.  Wherever  fate  might  he  lingering  in 
(he  wild  darkness  of  that  January  night,  it  was  not 
cm  the  threshold  of  his  mother's  house. 


CHAPTER  X. 


On  the  next  evening  after  this  there  was  a  tea-meet- 
ing in  Salem  Chapel.  In  the  hack  premises  behind 
the  chapel  were  all  needful  accommodations  for  the 
provision  of  that  popular  refreshment — boilers,,  tea- 
urns,  unlimited  crockery  and  pewter.  In  fact,  it  was 
one  of  Mr  Tozer's  boasts,  that  owing  to  the  liberality 
of  the  "  connection  "  in  Carliugford,  Salem  was  fully 
equipped  in  this  respect,  and  did  not  need  to  borrow 
so  much  as  a  spoon  or  teapot,  a  very  important  mat- 
ter under  the  circumstances.  This,  however,  was  the 
first  tea-meeting  which  had  taken  place  since  that 
one  at  which  Mr  Tufton's  purse  had  been  presented 
to  him,  and  the  old  pastor  had  taken  leave  of  his 
flock.  The  young  pastor,  indeed,  had  set  his  face 
against  tea-meetings.  He  was  so  far  behind  his  age 
as  to  doubt  their  utility,  and  declared  himself  totally 
uncpialified  to  preside  over  such  assemblies  ;  but,  in 
the  heat  of  his  recent  disappointment,  when,  stung 


154  CHRONICLES    OF    CAIILINGFORD  : 

by  other  people's  neglect, he  bad  taken  up  Salem  and 
all  belonging  to  it  into  bis  bosom,  a  cruel  use  bad 
been  made  of  the  young  minister's  compliance.   They 
had  wrung  a  reluctant  consent  from  him  in  that  un- 
guarded moment,  and  the  walls  of  Carlingford  bad 
been  for  some  days  blazing  with  placards  of  the  tea- 
meeting,  at   which  the  now  famous  (in  Carlingford) 
lecturer  on  Church  and  State  was  to  speak.     Not 
Tozer,  with  all  bis  eloquence,  bad  been  able  to  per- 
suade the  pastor  to  preside  ;  but  at  least  be  was  to 
appear,  to  take  tea  at  that  table  elevated  on  the  plat- 
form, where  Phoebe  Tozer,  under  the  matronly  care 
of  Mrs  Brown  (for  it  was  necessary  to  divide  these 
honours,  and  guard  against  jealousy),  dispensed  the 
fragrant  lymph,  and  to  address  the  meeting.     There 
had   been   thoughts    of   a  grand  celebration  in  the 
Music  Hall  to  do  more  honour  to  the  occasion ;  but 
as  that  might  have  neutralised   the  advantages  of 
having  all  the  needful  utensils  within  themselves, 
convenience  and   economy  carried  the  day,  and  the 
scene  of  these  festivities,  as  of  all  the  previous  festi- 
vities of  Salem,  was  the  large  low  room  underneath 
the  chapel,   once  intended  for  a  school,  but  never 
used,  except  on  Sundays,  in  that  capacity.     Thither 
for  two  or  three  days  all  the  "  young  ladies  "  of  the 
chapel  had  streamed  to  and  fro,  engaged  in  decora- 
tions.     Some  manufactured  festoons  of  evergreens, 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  155 

some  concocted  pink  and  white  roses  in  paper  to  em- 
bellish the  same.  The  printed  texts  of  the  Sunday 
school  were  framed,  and  in  some  cases  obliterated,  in 
Christmas  garlands.  Christmas,  indeed,  was  past, 
but  there  were  still  holly  and  red  berries  and  green 
smooth  laurel  leaves.  The  Pigeon  girls,  rhcebe  Tozer, 
Mrs  Brown's  niece  from  the  country,  and  the  other 
young  people  in  Salem  who  were  of  sufficiently  ad- 
vanced position,  enjoyed  the  preparations  greatly — 
entering  into  them  with  even  greater  heartiness  than 
Lucy  Wodehouse  exhibited  in  the  adornment  of  St 
Koque's,  and  taking  as  much  pleasure  in  the  task  as 
if  they  had  been  picturesque  Italians  adorning  the 
shrine  of  their  favourite  saint.  Catterina  and  Fran- 
cesca  with  their  flower-garlands  are  figures  worthy 
of  any  picture,  and  so  is  Lucy  Wodehouse  under  the 
chancel  arch  at  St  Koque's  ;  but  how  shall  we  ven- 
ture to  ask  anybody's  sympathy  for  Phoebe  and  Maria 
Pigeon  as  they  put  up  their  festoons  round  the  four 
square  walls  of  the  low  schoolroom  in  preparation  for 
the  Salem  tea-party  ?  Nevertheless  it  is  a  fact  that 
the  two  last  mentioned  had  very  much  the  same  in- 
tentions and  sensations,  and  amid  the  coils  of  fresh 
ivy  and  laurel  did  not  look  amiss  in  their  cheerful 
Labour — a  fact  which,  before  the  work  was  completed, 
had  become  perceptible  to  various  individuals  of  the 
Carlingford  public.     But  Mr  Vincent  was,  on  this 


liiG  CHRONICLES    OF    CARLIXGFORD  : 

point,  as  on  several  others,  unequal  to  the  require- 
ments of  his  position.  "When  lie  did  glance  in  for  a 
moment  od  the  afternoon  of  the  eventful  day,  it  was 
in  company  with  Tozer  and  the  Rev.  Mr  Raffles  of 
Shoebnry,  who  was  to  take  the  chair.  Mr  Raffles 
was  very  popular  in  Carlingford,  as  everywhere.  To 
secure  liim  for  a  tea-meeting  was  to  secure  its  success. 
He  examined  into  all  the  preparations,  tasted  the 
cake,  pricked  his  fingers  with  the  garlands  to  the 
immense  delight  of  the  young  ladies,  and  compli- 
mented them  on  their  skill  with  Learning  cheerful- 
ness ;  while  the  minister  of  Salem,  on  the  contrary, 
stalked  about  by  his  side  pale  and  preoccupied,  with 
difficulty  keeping  himself  from  that  contempt  of  the 
actual  things  around  to  which  youth  is  so  often 
tempted.  His  mind  wandered  off  to  the  companion 
of  his  last  night's  walk — to  the  stranger  pacing  up 
and  down  that  damp  garden  with  inscrutable  un- 
known thoughts — to  the  beautiful  creature  within 
those  lighted  windows,  so  near  and  yet  so  overwhelm- 
ingly distant  —  as  if  somehow  they  had  abstracted 
life  and  got  it  among  themselves.  Mr  Vincent  had 
little  patience  for  what  he  considered  the  mean  details 
of  existence  nearer  at  hand.  As  soon  as  he  could 
possibly  manage  it,  he  escaped,  regarding  with  a  cer- 
tain hopeless  disgust  the  appearance  he  had  to  make 
in  the  evening,  and  without  finding  a  single  civil 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  10< 

thing  to  say  to  the  fair  decorators.  "My  young 
brother  looks  sadly  low  and  out  of  spirits,"  said  jolly 
Mr  Eaffles.  "  What  do  you  mean  by  being  so  un- 
kind to  the  minister,  Miss  Phcebe,  eh  ? "  Poor  Phcebe 
blushed  pinker  than  ever,  while  the  rest  laughed.  It 
was  pleasant  to  be  supposed  "  unkind  "  to  the  minis- 
ter ;  and  Phcebe  resolved  to  do  what  she  could  to 
cheer  him  when  she  sat  by  his  elbow  at  the  platform 
table  making  tea  for  the  visitors  of  the  evening. 

The  evening  came,  and  there  was  not  a  ticket  to  be 
had  anywhere  in  Carlingford :  the  schoolroom,  with 
its  blazing  gas,  its  festoons,  and  its  mottoes,  its  tables 
groaning  with  dark-complexioned  plumcakeand  heavy 
buns,  was  crowded  quite  beyond  its  accommodation  ; 
and  the  edifying  sight  might  be  seen  of  Tozer  and 
his  brother  deacons,  and  indeed  all  who  were  suffi- 
ciently interested  in  the  success  of  Salem  t<>  sacrifice 
themselves  on  its  behalf,  making  an  erratic  but  not 
unsubstantial  tea  in  comers,  to  make  room  for  the 
crowd.  And  in  the  highest  good-humour  was  the 
crowd  which  surrounded  all  the  narrow  tables.  The 
urns  were  well  filled,  the  cake  abundant,  the  com- 
pany in  its  best  attire.  The  ladies  had  bonnets,  it  is 
true,  but  these  bonnets  were  worthy  the  occasion. 
At  the  table  on  the  platform  sat  Mr  Eaffles,  in  the 
chair,  beaming  upon  the  assembled  party,  with  cheer- 
ful little  Mrs  Tufton  and  Mrs  Brown  at  one  side  of 


I08  CHRONICLES   OF    CAKLINGFORD  : 

him,  and  Phoebe  looking  very  pink  and  pretty,  shaded 
from  the  too  enthusiastic  admiration  of  the  crowd 
below  by  the  tea-um  at  which  she  officiated.  Next 
to  her,  the  minister  cast  abstracted  looks  upon  the 
assembly.  He  was,  oh,  so  interesting  in  his  silence 
and  pallor: — he  spoke  little;  ami  when  any  one  ad- 
dressed him,  he  had  to  come  back  as  if  from  a  distance 
to  hear.  If  anybody  could  imagine  that  Mr  Raffles 
contrasted  dangerously  with  Mr  Vincent  in  that  re- 
serve and  quietness,  it  would  be  a  mistake  unworthy 
a  philosophic  observer.  On  the  contrary,  the  Salem 
people  were  all  doubly  proud  of  their  pastor.  It  was 
not  to  be  expected  that  such  a  man  as  he  should  un- 
bend as  the  reverend  chairman  did.  They  preferred 
that  he  should  continue  on  his  stilts.  It  would  have 
been  a  personal  humiliation  to  the  real  partisans  of 
the  chapel,  had  he  really  woke  up  and  come  down 
from  that  elevation  The  more  commonplace  the 
ordinary  "  connection  "  was,  the  more  proud  they  felt 
of  their  student  and  scholar.  So  Mr  Vincent  leaned 
his  head  upon  his  hands  and  gazed  unmolested  over 
the  lively  company,  taking  in  all  the  particulars  of 
the  scene,  the  busy  groups  engaged  in  mere  tea-mak- 
ing and  tea-consuming  —  the  flutter  of  enjoyment 
among  humble  girls  and  womankind  who  knew  no 
pleasure  more  exciting — the  whispers  which  pointed 
out  himself  to  strangers  among  the  party — the  trium- 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  159 

phant  face  of  Tozer  at  the  end  of  the  room,  jammed 
against  the  wall,  drinking  tea  out  of  an  empty  sugar- 
basin.  If  the  scene  woke  any  movement  of  human 
sympathy  in  the  bosom  of  the  young  Nonconformist, 
he  was  half  ashamed  of  himself  for  it.  What  had  the 
high  mission  of  an  evangelist — the  lofty  ambition  of 
a  man  trained  to  enlighten  his  country — the  warm 
assurance  of  talent  which  felt  itself  entitled  to  the 
highest  sphere, — what  had  those  great  things  to  do 
in  a  Salem  Chapel  tea-meeting?  So  the  lofty  spirit 
held  apart,  gazing  down  from  a  mental  elevation 
much  higher  than  the  platform ;  and  all  the  people 
who  had  heard  his  lectures  pointed  him  out  to  each 
other,  and  congratulated  themselves  on  that  studious 
and  separated  aspect  which  was  so  unlike  other  men. 
In  fact,  the  tine  superiority  of  Mr  Vincenl  was  at  the 
present  moment  the  very  thing  that  was  wanted  to 
rivet  their  chains.  Even  Mrs  Pigeon  looked  on  with 
silent  admiration.  He  was  "high"  —  never  before 
had  Salem  known  a  minister  who  did  not  condescend 
to  be  gracious  at  a  tea-meeting — and  the  leader  of  the 
opposition  honoured  him  in  her  heart. 

And  even  when  at  last  the  social  meal  Avas  over, 
when  the  urns  were  cleared  away,  and  with  a  rustle 
and  tlutter  the  assembly  composed  itself  to  the  intel- 
lectual regale  about  to  follow,  Mr  Vincent  did  not 
change  his  position.     Mr  Raffles  made  quite  one  of 


]  60  <  II  in  iNK  I.KS   OF    CARLINGFORD  : 

his  best  speeches  ;  he  kepi  his  audience  in  a  perpet- 
ual tluttrr  of  laughter  and  applause;  lie  set  forth  all 
the  excellencies  of  the  new  minister  with  such  de- 
tail and  fiilness  as  only  the  vainest  could  have  swal- 
lowed. Pmt  the  ] (leased  congregation  still  applauded. 
He  praised  Mr  Tufton,  the  venerable  father  of  the 
community;  he  praised  the  admirable  deacons;  he 
praised  the  arrangements.  In  short,  Mr  Raffles  ap- 
plauded everybody,  and  everybody  applauded  Mr 
Raffles.  After  the  chairman  had  concluded  his  speech, 
the  hero  of  the  evening  gathered  himself  up  dreamily, 
and  rose  from  Phcebe  Tozer's  side.  He  told  them  he 
had  been  gazing  at  them  this  hour  past,  studying  the 
scene  before  him ;  how  strangely  they  appeared  to 
him,  standing  on  this  little  bright  gaslighted  perch 
amid  the  dark  sea  of  life  that  surged  round  them; 
that  now  he  and  they  were  face  to  face  with  each 
other,  it  was  not  their  social  pleasure  he  was  thinking 
of,  but  that  dark  unknown  existence  that  throbbed 
and  echoed  around  :  he  bade  them  remember  the  dark 
night  which  enclosed  that  town  of  Carlingford,  with- 
out betraying  the  secret  of  its  existence  even  to  the 
nearest  village  ;  of  those  dark  streets  and  houses 
which  hid  so  many  lives  and  hearts  and  tragic  histo- 
ries ;  he  enlarged  upon  Mrs  Hilyard's  idea  of  the 
sentiment  of  "  such  a  night,"  till  timid  people  threw 
glances  behind  them,  and  some  sensitive  mothers 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  1G1 

paused  to  wonder  whether  the  minister  could  have 
heard  that  Tommy  had  fallen  into  the  fire,  or  Mary 
scalded  herself,  and  took  this  way  to  break  the  news. 
The  speech  was  the  strangest  that  ever  was  listened 
to  at  a  tea-party.  It  was  the  wayward  capricious 
pouring  forth  of  a  fanciful  young  mind  under  an  un- 
quiet influence,  having  no  connection  whatever  with 
the  "  object,"  the  place,  or  the  listeners.  The  conse- 
quence was,  that  it  was  listened  to  with  breathless 
interest — that  the  faces  grew  pale  and  the  eyes  bright, 
and  shivers  of  restrained  emotion  ran  through  the 
astonished  audience.  Mr  Vincent  perceived  the  effect 
of  his  eloquence,  as  a  nursery  story-teller  perceives 
the  rising  sob  of  her  little  hearers.  When  he  saw  it, 
he  awoke,  as  the  same  nursery  minstrel  does  some- 
times, to  feel  how  unreal  was  the  sentiment  in  his  own 
breast  which  had  produced  this  genuine  feeling  in 
others,  and  with  a  sudden  amusement  proceeded  to 
deepen  his  colours  and  make  bolder  strokes  of  effect. 
His  success  was  perfect ;  before  he  concluded,  he  had 
in  imagination  dismissed  the  harmless  Salem  people 
out  of  their  very  innocent  recreation  to  the  dark 
streets  which  thrilled  round  them — to  the  world  of 
unknown  life,  of  which  each  man  for  himself  had 
some  knowledge — to  the  tragedies  that  might  be  going 
on  side  by  side  with  them,  for  aught  they  knew.    His 

hearers  drew  a  long  breath  when  it  was  over.     They 
vol.  I.  l 


162        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

were  startled,  frightened,  enchanted.  If  they  had 
been  witnessing  a  melodrama,  they  scarcely  could 
have  1  leen  more  excited.  He  had  put  the  most  dread- 
ful suggestions  in  their  mind  of  all  sorts  of  possible 
trouble  ;  he  sat  down  with  the  consciousness  of  hav- 
ing done  his  duty  by  Salem  for  this  night  at  least. 

But  when  Tozer  got  up  after  him  to  tell  about  the 
prosperity  of  the  congregation,  the  anticlimax  was 
felt  even  by  the  people  of  Salem.  Some  said,  "  No, 
no,"  audibly,  some  laughed,  not  a  few  rose  up  and 
went  away.  Vincent  himself,  feeling  the  room  very 
hot,  and  not  disliking  the  little  commotion  of  interest 
which  arose  on  his  departure,  withdrew  himself  from 
the  platform,  and  made  his  way  to  the  little  vestry, 
where  a  breath  of  air  was  to  be  had ;  for,  January 
night  as  it  was,  the  crowd  and  the  tea  had  established 
a  very  high  temperature  in  the  under-regions  of  Salem. 
He  opened  the  window  in  the  vestry,  which  looked 
out  upon  the  damp  ground  behind  the  chapel  and  the 
few  gravestones,  and  threw  himself  down  on  the  little 
sofa  with  a  sensation  of  mingled  self-reproach  and 
amusement.  Somehow,  even  when  one  disapproves  of 
one's  self  for  doing  it,  one  has  a  certain  enjoyment  in  be- 
wildering the  world.  Mr  Vincent  was  rather  pleased 
with  his  success,  although  it  was  only  a  variety  of 
"  humbug."  He  entertained  with  Christian  satisfac- 
tion the  thought  that  he  bad  succeeded  in  introducing 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  163 

a  certain  visionary  uneasiness  into  the  lively  atmo- 
sphere of  the  tea-meeting — and  he  was  delighted  with 
his  own  cleverness  in  spite  of  himself. 

While  he  lay  back  on  his  sofa,  and  pondered  this 
gratifying  thought,  he  heard  a  subdued  sound  of  voices 
outside — voices  and  steps  that  fell  with  but  little 
sound  upon  the  damp  grass.  A  languid  momentary 
wonder  touched  the  mind  of  the  minister:  who  could 
have  chosen  so  doleful  a  retirement  ?  It  was  about 
the  last  place  in  the  world  for  a  lover's  interview, 
which  was  the  first  thing  that  suggested  itself  to  the 
young  man  ;  the  next  moment  he  started  bolt  up- 
right, and  listened  with  undisguised  curiosity.  That 
voice  so  different  from  the  careless  voices  of  Salem, 
the  delicate  refined  intonations  which  had  startled 
him  in  the  shabby  little  room  in  Back  Grove  Street, 
awoke  an  interest  in  his  mind  which  no  youthful 
accents  in  Carlingford  could  have  excited.  He  sat 
upright  on  the  instant,  and  edged  towards  the  open 
window.  The  gas  burned  low  in  the  little  vestry, 
which  nobody  had  been  expected  to  enter,  and  the 
illumination  from  all  the  schoolroom  windows,  and 
sounds  of  cheering  and  commotion  there,  had  doubt- 
less made  the  absolute  darkness  and  silence  behind 
seem  perfectly  safe  to  the  two  invisible  people  now 
meeting  under  the  cloud  of  night.  Mr  Vincent  was 
not  startled  into  eavesdropping  unawares,  nor  did  he 


164  CHRONICLES  OF   CABLINGFOBD  : 

engage  in  any  sophistical  argument  to  justify  himself 
for  listening.  On  the  contrary,  he  listened  honestly, 
with  the  full  intention  of  hearing  all  he  could— 
suddenly  changed  from  the  languid  sentimentalist. 
painful  and  self-conscious,  which  the  influences  of 
the  evening  had  made  him,  into  a  spectator  veiy 
wide  awake  and  anxious,  straining  his  ear  to  catch 
some  knowledge  of  a  history,  in  which  a  crowd  of 
presentiments  warned  him  that  he  himself  should  yet 
be  concerned. 

"  If  you  must  speak,  speak  here,"  said  that  voice 
which  Vincent  had  recognised :  "  it  is  scarcely  the 
atmosphere  for  a  man  of  your  fine  taste,  to  be  sure  ; 
but  considering  the  subject  of  the  conference,  it  will 
do.     What  do  you  want  with  me  ?" 

"  By  Jove,  it  looks  dangerous! — what  do  you  mean 
to  suggest  by  this  sweet  rendezvous — murder?"  said 
the  man,  whoever  he  was,  who  had  accompanied  Mrs 
Hilyard  to  the  damp  yard  of  Salem  Chapel,  with  its 
scattered  graves. 

"  My  nerves  are  strong,"  she  answered.  "  It  is  a 
pity  you  should  take  the  trouble  to  be  melodramatic. 
Do  you  think  I  am  vain  enough  to  imagine  that  you 
could  subject  yourself  to  all  the  unpleasant  accessories 
of  being  hanged  on  my  account?  Fancy  a  rough 
hempen  rope,  and  the  dirty  fingers  that  would  adjust 
it.     Pah  !  you  would  not  risk  it  for  me." 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  165 

Her  companion  swore  a  muttered  oath.  "  By  Jove ! 
I  believe  you'd  be  content  to  be  murdered,  to  make 
such  an  end  of  me,"  he  answered,  in  the  baffled  tone 
of  rage  which  a  man  naturally  sinks  into  when 
engaged  in  unequal  conflict  of  recrimination  with 
a  woman. 

"  This  is  too  conjugal,"  said  Mrs  Hilyard  ;  "  it  re- 
minds me  of  former  experiences  :  come  to  the  point, 
I  beg  of  you.  You  did  not  come  here  and  seek  me 
out  that  we  might  have  an  amusing  conversation — 
what  do  you  want  with  me?" 

"  Don't  tempt  me  too  far  with  your  confounded 
impertinence,"  exclaimed  the  man,  "or  there  is  no 
telling  what  may  happen.  I  want  to  know  where 
thai  child  is  ;  you  know  I  do.  I  mean  to  reclaim 
my  rights  so  far  as  she  is  concerned.  If  she  had  been 
award  in  Chancery,  a  man  might  have  submitted. 
But  I  am  a  reformed  individual — my  life  is  of  the 
most  exemplary  description — no  court  in  Christen- 
dom would  keep  her  from  my  custody  now.  I  want 
the  girl  for  her  own  good — she  shall  marry  brilliantly, 
which  she  never  could  do  with  you.  I  know  she's 
grown  up  as  lovely  as  I  expected -" 

"  How  do  you  know?"  interrupted  Mrs  Hilyard, 
with  a  certain  hoarseness  in  her  voice. 

"  Ah  !  I  have  touched  you  at  last.  Remembering 
what  her  mother  was,"  he  went  on,  in  a  mocking 


166        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

tone,  "though  I  am  grieved  to  see  how  much  you 
have  gone  off  in  late  years — and  having  a  humble 
consciousness  of  her  father's  personal  advantages, 
and,  in  short,  of  her  relatives  in  general,  I  know  she's 
a  little  beauty — and,  by  Jove,  she  shall  be  a  duchess 
yet." 

There  was  a  pause — something  like  a  hard  sob 
thrilled  in  the  air,  rather  a  vibration  than  a  sound  ; 
and  Vincent,  making  a  desperate  gesture  of  rage 
towards  the  school-room,  from  which  a  burst  of 
applause  at  that  moment  sounded,  approached  closer 
to  the  window.  Then  the  woman's  voice  burst  forth 
passionate,  but  subdued. 

"  You  have  seen  her !  you  ! — you  that  blasted  her 
life  before  she  was  born,  and  confused  her  sweet 
mind  for  ever — how  did  you  dare  to  look  at  my 
child  ?  And  I,"  cried  the  passionate  voice,  forgetting 
even  caution — "/,  that  would  give  my  life  drop  by 
drop  to  restore  what  never  can  be  restored  to  that 
victim  of  your  sin  and  my  weakness — I  do  not  see 
her.  I  refuse  myself  that  comfort.  I  leave  it  to 
others  to  do  all  that  love  and  pity  can  do  for  my 
baby.  You  speak  of  murder — man  !  if  I  had  a  knife, 
I  could  find  it  in  my  heart  to  put  an  end  to  your 
horrid  career  ;  and,  look  you,  I  will — Coward  !  I  will ! 
I  will  kill  you  before  you  shall  lay  your  vile  hands 
on  my  child." 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  167 

"She-wolf!"  cried  the  man,  grinding  his  teeth, 
"  do  you  know  how  much  it  would  be  to  my  advan- 
tage if  you  never  left  this  lonely  spot  you  have 
brought  me  to  ?  By  Jove,  I  have  the  greatest 
mind " 

Another  momentary  silence.  Vincent,  wound  up 
to  a  high  state  of  excitement,  sprang  noiselessly  to 
his  feet,  and  was  rushing  to  the  window  to  proclaim 
his  presence,  when  Mrs  Hilyard's  voice,  perfectly 
calm,  and  in  its  usual  tone,  brought  him  back  to 
himself. 

"  Second  thoughts  are  best.  It  would  compromise 
you  horribly,  and  put  a  stop  to  many  pleasures — not 
to  speak  of  those  dreadful  dirty  fingers  arranging  that 
rough  rope  round  your  neck,  which,  pardon  me,  1 
can't  help  thinking  of  when  you  associate  your  own 
name  with  such  a  vulgar  suggestion  as  murder.  1 
should  not  mind  these  little  details,  but  you  !  How- 
ever, I  excited  myself  unreasonably ;  you  have  not 
seen  her.  That  skilful  inference  of  yours  was  only  a 
He.     She  was  not  at  Lonsdale,  you  know." 

"  How  the  devil  do  you  know  I  was  at  Lonsdale  ? " 
said  her  companion. 

"  I  keep  myself  informed  of  the  movements  of  so 
interesting  a  person.     She  was  not  there." 

"  No,"  replied  the  man,  "  she  was  not  there  ;  but  I 
need  not  suggest  to  your  clear  wits  that  there  are 


1G8       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

other  Lnnsdalcs  in  England  What  if  Miss  Mildmay 
were  in  her  father's  lawful  guardianship  now?" 

Here  the  ail  palpitated  with  a  cry,  the  cry  as 
of  a  wild  creature  in  sudden  blind  anguish.  It 
was  echoed  by  a  laugh  of  mockery  and  exultation. 
"  Should  you  like  me  to  tell  you  which  of  the 
Lonsdales  you  honoured  with  your  patronage  ? " 
continued  the  mocking  voice:  "that  in  Derbyshire, 
or  that  in  Devonshire,  or  that  in  Cumberland?  1 
am  afflicted  to  have  defeated  your  skilful  scheme  so 
easily.  Now  that  you  see  I  am  a  match  for  you, 
perhaps  you  will  perceive  that  it  is  better  to  yield 
peaceably,  and  unite  with  me  in  securing  the  girl's 
good.     She  needs  only  to  be  seen  to " 

"  Who  do  you  imagine  you  are  addressing,  Colonel 
Mildmay  V  said  Mrs  Hilyard,  haughtily  ;  "  there  has 
been  enough  of  this :  you  are  mistaken  if  you  think 
you  can  deceive  me  for  more  than  a  moment :  my 
child  is  not  in  your  hands,  and  never  will  be,  please 
God.  But  mark  what  I  say,"  she  continued,  drawing 
a  fierce,  hard  breath,  "  if  you  should  ever  succeed  in 
tracing  her — if  you  should  ever  be  able  to  snatch 
her  from  me — then  confess  your  sins,  and  say  your  last 
prayers,  for  as  sure  as  I  live  you  shall  die  in  a  week." 

"  She-devil !  murderess  !  "  cried  her  companion,  not 
without  a  certain  shade  of  alarm  in  his  voice;  "if 
your  power  were  equal  to  your  will " 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  169 

"In  that  case  my  power  should  be  equal  to  my 
will,"  said  the  steady,  delicate  woman's  voice,  as 
clear  in  very  fine  articulation  as  if  it  were  some 
peaceful  arrangement  of  daily  life  for  which  she 
declared  herself  capable  :  "  you  should  not  escape  if 
you  surrounded  yourself  with  a  king's  guards.  I 
swear  to  you,  if  you  do  what  you  say,  that  I  will  kill 
you  somehow,  by  whatever  means  I  can  attain — and 
I  have  never  ye1  broken  my  word." 

An  unsteady  defiant  laugh  was  the  only  reply. 
The  man  was  evidently  nunc  impressed  with  the 
sincerity,  and  power  to  execute  her  intentions,  of  the 
woman  than  she  with  his.  Apparently  they  stood 
regarding  each  other  for  another  momentary  interval 
in  silence.     Again  Mrs  Hilyard  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"I  presume  our  conference  is  over  now,"  she  said, 
calmly  ;  "  how  you  could  think  of  seeking  it  is  more 
than  I  can  understand.  I  suppose  poor  pretty  Alice, 
who  thinks  every  woman  can  be  persuaded,  induced 
you  to  attempt  this.  Don't  let  me  keep  you  any 
longer  in  a  place  so  repugnant  to  your  taste.  I  am 
going  to  the  tea-meeting  at  Salem  Chapel  to  hear  my 
young  friend  the  minister  speak  :  perhaps  this  unpro- 
fitable discussion  has  lost  me  that  advantage.  You 
heard  him  the  other  night,  and  were  pleased,  I  trust. 
Good-night.  I  suppose,  before  leaving  you,  I  should 
thank  you  for  having  spared  my  life." 


170  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

Vincent  heard  the  curse  upon  her  and  her  stinging 
tongue,  which  burst  in  a  growl  of  rage  from  the  lips 
of  the  other,  but  he  did  not  see  the  satirical  curtsy 
with  which  this  strange  woman  swept  past,  nor  the 
scarcely  controllable  impulse  which  made  the  man 
lift  his  stick  and  clench  it  in  his  hand  as  she  turned 
away  from  him  those  keen  eyes,  out  of  which  even 
the  gloom  of  night  could  not  quench  the  light.  But 
even  Mrs  Hilyard  herself  never  knew  how  near,  how 
very  near,  she  was  at  that  moment  to  the  unseen 
world.  Had  her  step  been  less  habitually  firm  and 
rapid, — had  she  lingered  on  her  way — the  temptation 
might  have  been  too  strong  for  the  man,  maddened 
by  many  memories.  He  made  one  stride  after  her, 
clenching  his  stick.  It  was  perfectly  dark  in  that 
narrow  passage  which  led  out  to  the  front  of  the 
chapel.  She  might  have  been  stunned  in  a  moment, 
and  left  there  to  die,  without  any  man  being  the 
wiser.  It  was  not  virtue,  nor  hatred  of  bloodshed,  nor 
repugnance  to  harm  her,  which  restrained  Colonel 
Mildmay's  hand :  it  was  half  the  rapidity  of  her 
movements,  and  half  the  instinct  of  a  gentleman, 
which  vice  itself  could  not  entirely  obliterate.  Per- 
haps he  was  glad  when  he  saw  her  disappear  from 
before  him  down  the  lighted  steps  into  the  Salem 
schoolroom.  He  stood  in  the  darkness  and  watched 
her  out  of  sight,  himself  unseen  by  any  one,  and  then 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  171 

departed  on  his  way,  a  splendid  figure,  all  unlike  the 
population  of  Grove  Street.  Some  of  the  Salem 
people,  disj>ersing  at  the  moment,  saw  him  saunter- 
ing down  the  street  grand  and  leisurely,  and  recog- 
nised the  gentleman  who  had  been  seen  in  the  Music 
Hall  with  Lady  Western.  They  thought  he  must 
have  come  privately  once  more  to  listen  to  their 
ministers  eloquence.  Probably  Lady  Western  her- 
self, the  leader  of  fashion  in  Carlingford,  would  ap- 
pear next  Sunday  to  do  Mr  Vincent  honour.  The 
sight  of  this  veiy  fine  gentleman  picking  his  leisurely 
way  along  the  dark  pavement  of  Grove  Street,  lean- 
ing confidingly  upon  that  stick  over  which  his  tall 
person  swayed  with  fashionable  languor,  gave  a 
climax  to  the  evening  in  the  excited  imaginations  of 
Mr  Vincent's  admirers.  Nobody  but  the  minister 
and  one  utterly  unnoted  individual  in  the  crowd 
knew  what  had  brought  the  Colonel  and  his  stick  to 
such  a  place.  Nobody  but  the  Colonel  himself,  and 
the  watchful  heavens  above,  knew  how  little  had 
prevented  him  from  leaving  a  silent,  awful  witness 
of  that  secret  interview  upon  the  chapel  steps. 

Wlien  Mr  Vincent  returned  to  the  platform,  which 
he  did  hurriedly,  Mr  Pigeon  was  addressing  the  meet- 
ing. In  the  flutter  of  inquiries  whether  he  was  better, 
and  gentle  hopes  from  Phoebe  that  his  studies  had 
not  been  too  much  for  him,  nobody  appeared  to  mark 


J72  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLINGFORD  ! 

the  eagerness  of  his  eves,  and  the  curiosity  in  his 
face.  Ee  sal  down  in  his  old  place,  and  pretended 
to  listen  to  Mr  Pigeon.  Anxiously  from  under  the 
shadow  of  his  hands  he  inspected  the  crowd  before 
him,  who  had  recovered  their  spirits.  In  a  corner 
close  to  the  door  he  at  last  found  the  face  he  was  in 
search  of.  Mrs  Hilyard  sat  at  the  end  of  a  table, 
leaning  her  face  on  her  hand.  She  had  her  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  speaker,  and  there  passed  now  and  then 
across  the  corners  of  her  close  -  shut  mouth  that 
momentary  movement  which  was  her  symbol  for  a 
smile.  She  was  not  pretending  to  listen,  but  giving 
her  entire  attention  to  the  honest  poulterer.  Now 
and  then  she  turned  her  eyes  from  Pigeon,  and  perused 
the  room  and  the  company  with  rapid  glances  of 
amusement  and  keen  observation.  Perhaps  her  eyes 
gleamed  keener,  and  her  dark  cheek  owned  a  slight 
flush — that  was  all.  Out  of  her  mysterious  life — out 
of  that  interview,  so  full  of  violence  and  passion — 
the  strange  woman  came,  without  a  moment's  interval, 
to  amuse  herself  by  looking  at  and  listening  to  all 
those  homely  innocent  people.  Could  it  be  that  she 
was  taking  notes  of  Pigeon's  speech?  Suddenly,  all 
at  once,  she  had  taken  a  pencil  out  of  her  pocket  and 
began  to  write,  glancing  up  now  and  then  towards 
the  speaker.  Mr  Vincent's  head  swam  with  the  won- 
der he  was  contemplating — was  she  flesh  and  blood 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  173 

after  all,  or  some  wonderful  skeleton  living  a  galvanic 
life  ?  But  when  he  asked  himself  the  question,  her 
cry  of  sudden  anguish,  her  wild,  wicked  promise  to 
kill  the  man  who  stole  her  daughter,  came  over  his 
mind,  and  arrested  his  thoughts.  He,  dallying  as 
he  was  on  the  verge  of  life,  full  of  fantastic  hopes 
and  disappointment,  could  only  pretend  to  listen  to 
Pigeon  ;  but  the  good  poulterer  turned  gratified  eyes 
towards  Mrs  Hilyard.  He  recognised  her  real  atten- 
tion and  interest;  was  it  the  height  of  voluntary 
sham  and  deception? — or  was  she  really  taking  notes? 
The*  mystery  was  solved  after  the  meeting  was  over. 
There  was  some  music,  in  the  first  place — anthems 
in  which  all  the  strength  of  Salem  united,  Tozei  tak- 
ing a  heavy  bass,  while  Phoebe  exerted  herself  so  in 
the  soprano  that  Mr  Vincent's  attention  was  forcibly 
called  off  his  own  meditations,  in  terror  lest  something 
should  break  in  the  throat  so  hardly  strained.  Then 
there  were  some  oranges,  another  speech,  a  hymn, 
and  a  benediction  ;  and  then  Mr  Baffles  sprang  joy- 
fully up,  and  leaned  over  the  platform  to  shake  hands 
with  his  friends.  This  last  process  was  trying.  Mr 
Vincent,  who  could  no  longer  take  refuge  in  silence, 
descended  into  the  retiring  throng.  He  was  compli- 
mented on  his  speech,  and  even  by  some  superior 
people,  who  had  a  mind  to  be  fashionable,  upon  the 
delightful   evening  they  had  enjoyed.     AVhen  they 


17  1  CHK0NICLK8   OF    CARLINGFORD  : 

were  all  u< >ii«-,  there  were  still  the  Tozers,  the  Browns, 
the  Pigeons,  Mrs  Tnfton,  and  Mr  Raffles.  He  was 
turning  back  to  them  disconsolate,  when  he  was  sud- 
denly  confronted  by  Mrs  Hilyard  out  of  her  corner 
with  the  fly-leaf  of  the  hymn-book  the  unscrupulous 
woman  had  been  writing  in,  torn  out  in  her  hand. 

"  Stop  a  minute  !  "  she  cried  ;  "  I  want  to  speak  to 
you.  I  -want  your  help,  if  you  will  give  it  me.  Don't 
be  surprised  at  what  I  ask.  Is  your  mother  a  good 
woman — was  it  she  that  trained  you  tp  act  to  the 
forlorn  as  you  did  to  me  last  night  ?  I  have  been  too 
hasty — I  take  away  your  breath  ; — never  mind,  there 
is  no  time  to  choose  one's  words.  The  butterman  is 
looking  at  us,  Mr  Vincent.  The  ladies  are  alarmed  ; 
they  think  I  want  spiritual  consolation  at  this  un- 
suitable moment.  Make  haste — answer  my  question. 
Would  she  do  an  act  of  Christian  charity  to  a  woman 
in  distress ?" 

"  My  mother  is — yes,  I  know  she  would,  what  do 
you  want  of  her  ? — my  mother  is  the  best  and  tender- 
est  of  women,"  cried  Vincent,  in  utter  amazement. 

"I  want  to  send  u  child  to  her — a  persecuted, 
helpless  child,  whom  it  is  the  object  of  my  life  to 
keep  out  of  evil  hands,"  said  Mrs  Hilyard,  her  dark 
thin  face  growing  darker  and  more  pallid,  her  eyes 
softening  with  tears.  "  She  will  be  safe  at  Lonsdale 
now,  and  I  cannot  go  in  my  own  person  at  present  to 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  175 

take  her  anywhere.  Here  is  a  message  for  the  tele- 
graph," she  added,  holding  up  the  paper  which  Vin- 
cent had  supposed  to  be  notes  of  Mr  Pigeon's  speech ; 
"  take  it  for  me — send  it  off  to-night — you  will  ?  and 
write  to  your  mother  ;  she  shall  suffer  no  loss,  and  I 
will  thank  her  on  my  knees.     It  is  life  or  death." 

"  I  know — I  am  aware  ! "  cried  Vincent,  not  know- 
ing what  he  said.     "There  is  no  time  to  be  lost." 

She  put  the  paper  into  his  hand,  and  clasped  it 
tight  between  both  of  hers,  not  knowing  in  the  excite- 
ment which  she  was  so  well  trained  to  repress,  that 
he  had  betrayed  any  special  knowledge  of  her  distress. 
It  seemed  natural,  in  that  strain  of  desperation,  that 
everybody  should  understand  her.  "  Come  to-morrow 
and  tell  me,"  she  said,  hurriedly,  and  then  hastened 
away,  leaving  him  with  the  paper  folded  close  into 
his  hand  as  her  hard  grasp  had  left  it.  He  turned 
away  from  the  group  which  awaited  his  coming  with 
some  curiosity  and  impatience,  and  read  the  message 
by  the  light  of  one  of  the  garlanded  and  festive  lamps. 
"  Each  el  Russell  to  Miss  Smith,  Lonsdale,  Devonshire. 
Immediately  on  receiving  this,  take  the  child  to 
Lonsdale,  near  Peterborough  —  to  Mrs  Vincent's  ; 
leave  the  train  at  some  station  near  town,  and  drive 
to  a  corresponding  station  on  the  Great  Northern  ; 
don't  enter  London.  Blue  veil — care — not  to  be  left 
for  an  instant,      I  trust  all  to  vou."     Mr  Vincent 


176  CHRONICLES   OF    CARLINGFORD  : 

put  the  message  in  his  pocketbook,  took  it  out  again 
— tried  it  in  his  purse,  his  waistcoat  pocket,  every- 
where he  could  think  of — finally,  closed  his  hand 
over  it  as  at  first,  and  in  a  high  state  of  excitement 
wnit  up  to  the  chattering  group  at  the  little  platform, 
tin'  only  thought  in  his  mind  being  how  to  get  rid  of 
them,  that  he  might  hasten  upon  his  mission  before 
the  telegraph  office  was  closed  for  the  night. 

And,  as  was  to  be  expected,  Mr  Vincent  found  it 
no  easy  matter  to  get  rid  of  the  Tozers  and  Pigeons, 
who  were  all  overflowing  about  the  tea-party,  its  pro- 
visions, its  speeches,  and  its  success.  He  stood  with 
that  bit  of  paper  clenched  in  his  hand,  and  endured 
the  jokes  of  his  reverend  brother,  the  remarks  of  Mrs 
Tufton,  the  blushes  of  Phcebe.  He  stood  for  half  an 
hour  at  least  perforce  in  unwilling  and  constrained 
civility — at  last  he  became  desperate; — with  a  wild 
promise  to  return  presently,  he  rushed  out  into  the 
night.  The  station  was  about  half  a  mile  out  of  Car- 
lingford,  at  the  new  end,  a  long  way  past  Dr  Eider's. 
When  Vincent  reached  it,  the  telegraph  clerk  was 
putting  on  his  hat  to  go  away,  and  did  not  relish  the 
momentary  detention  ;  when  the  message  was  received 
and  despatched,  the  young  minister  drew  breath — 
he  went  out  of  the  office,  wiping  his  hot  forehead,  to 
the  railway  platform,  where  the  last  train  for  town 
was  just  starting.     As  Vincent  stood  recovering  him- 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  177 

self  and  regaining  his  breath,  the  sudden  flash  of  a 
match  struck  in  one  of  the  carriages  attracted  his 
attention.  He  looked,  and  saw  by  the  light  of  the 
lamp  inside  a  man  stooping  to  light  his  cigar.  The 
action  brought  the  face,  bending  down  close  to  the 
window,  clearly  out  against  the  dark -blue  back- 
ground of  the  empty  carriage  ;  hair  light,  fine,  and 
thin,  in  long  but  scanty  locks — a  high-featured  eagle- 
face,  too  sharp  for  beauty  now,  but  bearing  all  the 
traces  of  superior  good  looks  departed — a  light  beard, 
so  light  that  it  did  not  count  for  its  due  in  the  aspect 
of  that  remarkable  countenance — a  figure  full  of  ease 
and  haughty  grace :  all  these  particulars  Vincent  noted 
with  a  keen  rapid  inspection.  In  another  moment 
the  long  leash  of  carriages  had  plunged  into  the  dark- 
ness. With  a  strange  flush  of  triumph  he  watched 
them  disappear,  and  turned  away  with  a  smile  on  his 
lips.  The  message  of  warning  was  already  tingling 
along  the  sensitive  wires,  and  must  outspeed  the 
slow  human  traveller.  This  face,  which  so  stamped 
itself  upon  his  memory,  which  he  fancied  he  could 
see  pictured  on  the  air  as  he  returned  along  the  dark 
road,  was  the  face  of  the  man  who  had  been  Lady 
Western's  companion  at  the  lecture.  That  it  was  the 
same  face  which  had  confronted  Mrs  Hilyard  in  the 
dark  graveyard  behind  Salem  Chapel  he  never  doubted. 
With  a  thrill  of  active  hatred  and  fierce  enmity  which 
vol.  I.  m 


178  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLINGFORD. 

it  was  difficult  to  account  for,  and  still  more  difficult 
for  a  man  of  his  profession  to  excuse,  the  young  man 
looked  forward  to  the  unknown  future  with  a  cer- 
tainty of  meeting  that  face  again. 

We  drop  a  charitable  veil  over  the  conclusion  of 
the  night,  Mr  Baffles  and  Mr  Vincent  supped  at 
Pigeon's,  along  with  the  Browns  and  Tozers ;  and 
Phoebe's  testimony  is  on  record  that  it  was  a  feast  of 
reason  and  a  flow  of  soul. 


CHAPTER   XI. 


The  next  morning  Vincent  awoke  with  a  sense  of 
personal  occupation  and  business,  which  perhaps  is 
only  possible  to  a  man  engaged  with  the  actual  oc- 
currences of  individual  life.  Professional  duties  and 
the  general  necessities,  of  existing,  do  not  give  that 
thrill  of  sensible  importance  and  use  which  a  man 
feels  who  is  busy  with  affairs  which  concern  his  own 
or  other  people's  very  heart  and  being.  The  young 
Nonconformist  was  no  Longer  the  sentimentalist  who 
had  made  the  gaping  assembly  at  Salem  Chapel  un- 
easy over  their  tea-drinking.  That  dark  and  secret 
ocean  of  life  which  lie  had  apostrophised,  opened  up 
to  him  immediately  thereafter  one  of  its  most  myste- 
rious scenes.  This  had  shaken  Vincent  rudely  out  of 
his  own  youthful  vagaries.  Perhaps  the  most  true  of 
philosophers,  contemplating,  however  profoundly,  the 
secrets  of  nature  or  thought,  would  come  to  a  sudden 
standstill  over  a  visible  abyss  of  human  guilt,  wretch- 


180  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLIXGFORD  : 

ednesSj  heroic  self-restraint,  and  courage,  yawning 
apparent  in  the  meditative  way.  "What,  then,  were 
tin.'  poor  dialectics  of  Church  and  State  controversy, 
or  the  fluctuations  of  an  uncertain  young  mind  feel- 
ing itself  superior  to  its  work,  to  such  a  spectacle  of 
passionate  life,  full  of  evil  and  of  noble  qualities — 
of  guilt  and  suffering  more  intense  than  anything 
philosophy  dreams  of?  The  thin  veil  which  youthful 
ignorance,  believing  in  the  supremacy  of  thought  and 
superior  charm  of  intellectual  concerns,  lays  over  the 
world,  shrivelled  up  under  the  fiery  lurid  light  of 
that  passionate  scene.  Two  people  clearly,  who  had 
once  loved  each  other,  hating  each  other  to  the  death, 
struggling  desperately  over  a  lesser  thread  of  life  pro- 
ceeding from  them  both — the  mother,  driven  to  the 
lowest  extremities  of  existence,  standing  up  like  a 
wild  creature  to  defend  her  offspring — what  could 
philosophy  say  to  such  phenomena  ?  A  wild  circle 
of  passion  sprang  into  conscious  being  under  the 
young  man's  half-frightened  eyes — wild  figures  that 
rilled  the  world,  leaving  small  space  for  the  calm 
suggestions  of  thought,  and  even  to  truth  itself  so 
little  vantage-gn  mud.  Love,  Hatred,  Anger,  Jealousy, 
Eevenge — how  many  more  ?  Vincent,  who  was  no 
longer  the  lofty  reasoning  Vincent  of  Homerton, 
found  life  look  different  under  the  light  of  those 
torch-bearers.     But  he  had  no  leisure  on  this  parti- 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  181 

cular  morning  to  survey  the  subject.  He  had  to 
cany  his  report  and  explanation  to  the  strange 
woman  who  had  so  seized  upon  and  involved  him 
in  her  concerns. 

Mrs  Hilyard  was  seated  in  her  room,  just  as  he 
had  seen  her  before,  working  with  flying  needle  and 
nervous  fingers  at  her  coarsest  needlework.  She  said, 
"  Come  in,"  and  did  not  rise  when  he  entered.  She 
gave  him  an  eager,  inquiring  look,  more  importunate 
and  commanding  than  any  words,  but  never  stopped 
working,  moving  her  thin  fingers  as  if  there  was  some 
spell  in  the  continuance  of  her  labour.  She  was  im- 
patient of  his  silence  before  lie  had  closed  the  door 
— desperate  when  he  said  the  usual  greeting.  She 
opened  her  pale  lips  and  spoke,  but  Vincent  heard 
nothing.     She  was  beyond  speech. 

"  The  message  went  off  last  night,  and  I  wrote  to 
my  mother,"  said  Vincent ;  "  don't  fear.  She  will  do 
what  you  wish,  and  everything  will  be  well." 

It  was  some  time  before  Mrs  Hilyard  quite  con- 
quered her  agitation ;  when  she  succeeded,  she  spoke 
so  entirely  in  her  usual  tone  that  Vincent  started, 
being  inexperienced  in  such  changes.  He  contem- 
plated her  with  tragic  eyes  in  her  living  martyrdom  ; 
she,  on  the  contrary,  more  conscious  of  her  own 
powers,  her  own  strength  of  resistance  and  activity 
of  life,  than  of  any  sacrifice,  had  nothing  about  her 


182  <  SBONH  LBS   OF    CARLIXGFORD  : 

the  least  tragical,  and  spoke  according  to  nature. 
Instead  of  any  passionate  burst  of  self-revelation, 
this  is  what  she  said — 

"Thank  you.  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you. 
How  everything  is  to  be  well,  does  not  appear  to  me  ; 
hut  I  will  take  your  word  for  it.  I  hope  I  may  take 
your  word  for  your  mother  also,  Mr  Vincent.  You 
have  a  right  to  know  how  this  is.  Do  you  claim  it, 
and  must  I  tell  you  now  ? " 

Here  for  the  first  time  Vincent  recollected  in  what 
an  unjustifiable  way  he  had  obtained  his  information. 
Strangely  enough,  it  had  never  struck  him  before.  He 
had  felt  himself  somehow  identified  with  the  woman 
in  the  strange  interview  he  had  overheard.  The  man 
was  a  personal  enemy.  His  interest  in  the  matter 
was  so  honest  and  simple  amid  all  the  complication 
of  his  youthful  superficial  insincerities,  that  this 
equivocal  action  was  one  of  the  very  few  which  Vin- 
cent had  actually  never  questioned  even  to  himself. 
He  was  confounded  now  when  he  saw  how  the  matter 
stood.  His  face  became  suddenly  crimson  ; — shame 
took  possession  of  his  soul. 

"Good  heavens,  I  have  done  the  most  dishonour- 
able action!"  cried  Vincent,  betrayed  into  sudden 
exclamation  by  the  horror  of  the  discovery.  Then  he 
paused,  turning  an  alarmed  look  upon  his  new  friend. 
She  took  it  very  calmly.     She  glanced  up  at  him 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  183 

with  a  comic  glance  in  her  eyes,  and  a  twitch  at  the 
corners  of  her  mouth.  Notwithstanding  last  night 
— notwithstanding  the  anxiety  which  she  dared  not 
move  in  her  own  person  to  alleviate — she  was  still 
capable  of  being  amused.  Her  eyes  said,  "  What 
now?"  with  no  very  alarming  apprehensions.  The 
situation  was  a  frightful  one  for  poor  Vincent. 

"  You  will  be  quite  justified  in  turning  me  out  of 
your  house/'  he  said,  clearing  his  throat,  and  in  great 
confusion ;  "  but  if  you  will  believe  it,  I  never  till 

this  moment  saw  how  atrocious Mrs  Hilyard, 

I  was  in  the  vestry  ;  the  window  was  open  ;  I  heard 
your  conversation  last  night." 

For  a  moment  Vincent  had  all  the  punishment  he. 
expected,  and  greater.  Her  eyes  blazed  upon  him 
out  of  that  pale  dark  face  with  a  certain  contempt 
and  lofty  indifference.  There  was  a  pause.  Mr  Vin- 
cent crushed  his  best  hat  in  his  hands,  and  sat  speech- 
less doing  penance.  He  was  dismayed  with  the  dis- 
covery of  his  own  meanness.  Nobody  could  deliver 
such  a  cutting  sentence  as  he  was  pronouncing  on 
himself. 

"  All  the  world  might  have  listened,  so  far  as  I  am 
concerned,"  she  said,  after  a  while,  quietly  enough. 
"  I  am  sorry  you  did  it ;  but  the  discovery  is  worse 
for  yourself  than  for  me."  Then,  after  another  pause, 
"  I  don't  mean  to  quarrel.     I  am  glad  for  my  own 


184       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

sake,  though  sorry  for  yours.  Now  you  know  better 
than  I  can  tell  you.  There  were  some  pleasant 
flowers  of  speech  to  be  gathered  in  that  dark  garden, 
she  continued,  with  another  odd  upward  gleam  of  her 
eyes.  "We  must  have  startled  your  clerical  ideas 
rather.  At  the  moment,  however,  Mr  Vincent,  people 
like  Colonel  Mildmay  and  myself  mean  what  we 
say." 

"  If  I  had  gained  my  knowledge  in  a  legitimate 
way,"  said  the  shame-stricken  minister,  not  venturing 
to  look  her  in  the  face,  "  I  should  have  said  that  I 
hoped  it  was  only  for  the  moment/' 

Mrs  Hilyard  laid  down  her  work,  and  looked  across 
at  him  with  undisguised  amusement.  "  I  am  sorry 
there  is  nobody  here  to  perceive  this  beautiful  situa- 
tion," she  said.  "  Who  would  not  have  their  ghostly 
father  commit  himself,  if  he  repented  after  this 
fashion  ?  Thank  you,  Mr  Vincent,  for  what  you  don't 
say.  And  now  we  shall  drop  the  subject,  don't  you 
think  ?  Were  the  deacons  all  charmed  with  the  tea- 
meeting  last  night  ? " 

"  You  want  me  to  go  now,"  said  Vincent,  rising, 
with  disconcerted  looks. 

"  Not  because  I  am  angry.  I  am  not  angry,"  she 
said,  rising  and  holding  out  her  hand  to  him.  "It 
was  a  pity,  but  it  was  an  inadvertence,  and  no  dis- 
honourable action.    Yes,  go.    I  am  best  to  be  avoided 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  185 

till  I  hear  how  this  journey  has  been  managed,  and 
what  your  mother  says.  It  was  a  sudden  thought, 
that  sending  them  to  Lonsdale.  I  know  that,  even  if 
he  has  not  already  found  the  right  one,  he  will  search 
all  the  others  now.  And  your  Lonsdale  has  been 
examined  and  exhausted  ;  all  is  safe  there.  Yes,  go. 
I  am  glad  you  know ;  but  don't  say  anything  to  Alice, 
if  you  see  her,  as  she  is  sure  to  seek  you  out.  You 
know  who  I  mean  by  Alice?  Lady  Western — yes. 
Good-bye.  I  trust  you,  notwithstanding  the  vestry 
window;  but  close  it  after  this  on  January  nights." 

She  had  sunk  into  her  seat  again,  and  was  absorbed 
in  her  needlework,  before  Vincent  left  the  room.  He 
looked  back  upon  her  before  he  shut  the  door,  but  she 
had  no  look  to  spare  from  that  all-engrossing  work  ; 
her  thin  tinners  were  more  scarred  than  ever,  and 
stained  with  the  coarse  blue  stuff.  All  his  life  after 
the  young  man  never  saw  that  colour  without  think- 
ing of  the  stains  on  those  poor  hands. 

He  went  about  his  work  assiduously  all  that  day, 
visiting  sick  people,  poor  people,  men  and  women, 
"  which  were  sinners."  That  dark  ocean  of  life  with 
which  he  had  frightened  the  Salem  people  last  night, 
Mr  Vincent  made  deeper  investigations  into  this  day 
than  he  had  made  before  during  all  the  time  he  had 
been  in  Carlingford.  He  kept  clear  of  the  smug- 
comfort  of  the  leading  people  of  "the  connection." 


186  CHRONICLES   OF    CARLINGFORD  : 

Absolute  want,  suffering,  and  sorrow,  were  compara- 
tively new  to  him  ;  and  being  as  yet  a  stranger  to 
philanthropic  schemes,  and  not  at  all  scientific  in  the 
distribution  of  his  sympathies,  the  minister  of  Salem 
conducted  himself  in  a  way  which  would  have  called 
forth  the  profoundest  contempt  and  pity  of  the  curate 
of  St  Roque's.  He  believed  everybody's  story,  and 
emptied  his  purse  with  the  wildest  liberality;  for, 
indeed,  visitation  of  the  poor  had  not  been  a  branch 
of  study  at  Homerton.  Tired  and  all  but  penniless, 
he  did  not  turn  his  steps  homeward  till  the  wintry 
afternoon  was  sinking  into  night,  and  the  lamps  began 
to  be  lighted  about  the  cheerful  streets.  As  he  came 
into  George  Street  he  saw  Lady  Western's  carriage 
waiting  at  the  door  of  Masters's.  Alice  !  that  was  the 
name  they  called  her.  He  looked  at  the  celestial 
chariot  wistfully.  He  had  nothing  to  do  with  it 
or  its  beautiful  mistress — never,  as  anything  but  a 
stranger,  worshipping  afar  off,  could  the  Dissenting 
minister  of  Carlingford  approach  that  lovely  vision — 
never  think  of  her  but  as  of  a  planet,  ineffably  dis- 
tant— never 

"  My  lady's  compliments,"  said  a  tall  voice  on  a 
level  with  Vincent's  eyebrows  :  "  will  you  please  to 
step  over  and  speak  to  her  ladyship  ?  "  The  startled 
Nonconformist  raised  his  eyes.  The  big  footman, 
whose  happy  privilege  it  was  to  wait  upon  that  lady 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  187 

of  his  dreams,  stood  respectful  by  his  side,  and  from 
the  carriage  opposite  the  fairest  face  in  the  world  was 
beaming,  the  prettiest  of  hands  waving  to  him.  Vin- 
cent believed  afterwards  that  he  crossed  the  entire 
breadth  of  George  Street  in  a  single  stride. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,  Mr  Viucent,"  said  Lady 
Western,  giving  him  her  hand  ;  "  I  did  so  want  to 
see  you  after  the  other  night.  Oh,  how  could  you  be 
so  clever  and  wicked — so  wicked  to  your  friends ! 
Indeed,  I  shall  never  be  pleased  till  you  recant,  and 
confess  how  wrong  you  were.  I  must  tell  you  why 
I  went  that  night.  I  could  not  tell  what  on  earth  to 
do  with  my  brother,  and  1  took  him  to  amuse  him  ; 
or  else,  you  know,  I  never  could  have  gone  to  hear 
the  poor  dear  old  Church  attacked.  And  how  violent 
you  were  too  !  Indeed  I  must  not  say  how  clever  I 
thought  it,  or  I  should  feel  I  was  an  enemy  to  the 
Church.  Now  I  want  you  to  dine  with  me,  and  I 
shall  have  somebody  to  conic  who  will  be  a  match 
for  you.  I  am  very  fond  of  clever  society,  though 
there  is  so  little  of  it  in  Carlingford.  Tell  me,  will 
you  come  to-morrow  ?  I  am  disengaged.  Oh,  pray, 
do  !  and  Mr  Wentworth  shall  come  too,  and  you  shall 
fight." 

Lady  Western  clapped  her  pretty  hands  together 
with  the  greatest  animation.  As  for  Vincent,  all  the 
superior  thoughts  in  which  he  would  probably  have 


188       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFOKD  : 

indulged — the  conl  rast  he  would  have  drawn  between 
the  desperate  brother  and  this  butterfly  creature, 
fluttering  on  the  edge  of  mysteries  so  dark  and  evil, 
had  she  been  anybody  else — deserted  him  totally  in 
the  present  crisis.  She  was  not  anybody  else — she 
was  herself.  The  words  that  fell  from  those  sweetest 
lips  Mere  of  a  half-divine  simplicity  to  the  bewildered 
young  man.  He  would  have  gone  off  straightway  to 
the  end  of  the  world  if  she  had  chosen  to  command 
him.  All  unwarned  by  his  previous  failure,  paradise 
opened  again  to  his  delighted  eyes. 

"And  I  want  to  consult  you  about  our  friend," 
said  Lady  Western ;  "  it  will  be  so  kind  of  you  to 
come.  I  am  so  pleased  you  have  no  engagement, 
I  am  sure  you  thought  us  very  stupid  last  time  ;  and 
I  am  stupid,  I  confess,"  added  the  beauty,  turning 
those  sweet  eyes,  which  were  more  eloquent  than 
genius,  upon  the  slave  who  was  reconquered  by  a 
glance;  "but  I  like  clever  people  dearly.  Good- 
bye till  to-morrow.  I  shall  quite  reckon  upon  to- 
morrow. Oh,  there  is  Mr  Wentworth  !  John,  call 
Mr  Wentworth  to  speak  to  me.  Good  morning — re- 
member, half-past  six — now,  you  must  not  forget." 

Spite  of  the  fact  that  Mr  Wentworth  took  his 
place  immediately  by  the  side  of  the  carriage,  Vin- 
cent passed  on,  a  changed  man.  Forget !  He  smiled 
to  himself  at  the  possibility,  and  as  he  walked  on  to 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  189 

his  lodging,  a  wonderful  maze  of  expectation  fell 
upon  the  young  man's  mind.  Why,  he  asked,  was 
he  brought  into  this  strange  connection  with  Her 
relations  and  their  story  ?  what  could  be,  he  said  to 
himself  with  a  little  awe,  the  purpose  of  that  Provi- 
dence which  shapes  men's  ends,  in  interweaving  his 
life  with  Hers  by  these  links  of  common  interest  ? 
The  skies  throbbed  with  wonder  and  miracle  as  soon 
as  they  were  lighted  up  by  her  smile.  Who  could 
predict  what  might  be  coming,  through  all  the  im- 
possibilities of  fact  and  circumstance?  He  would 
not  dissipate  that  delicious  haze  by  any  definite 
expectations  like  those  which  brought  him  to  sudden 
grief  on  a  former  occasion.  He  was  content  to  be- 
lieve it  was  not  for  nothing  that  all  these  strange 
circles  of  fate  were  weaving  round  his  charmed 
feet. 

In  this  elevated  frame  of  mind,  scarcely  aware  of 
the  prosaic  ground  he  trod,  Vincent  reached  home. 
The  little  maid  at  the  door  said  something  about  a 
lady,  to  which  he  paid  no  attention,  being  occupied 
with  his  own  thoughts.  With  an  unconscious  illu- 
mination on  his  face  he  mounted  the  stair  lightly, 
three  steps  at  a  time,  to  his  own  rooms.  The  lamp 
was  lighted  in  his  little  sitting-room,  and  some  one 
rose  nervously  from  the  table  as  he  went  in  at  the 
door.     What  was  this  sudden  terror  which  fell  upon 


190  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLINGFORD. 

the  young  man  in  the  renewed  glory  of  his  youthful 
hopes?  It  was  his  mother,  pale  and  faint,  with 
sleepless  tearful  eyes,  who,  with  the  cry  of  an  aching 
heart,  worn  out  by  fatigue  and  suspense,  came  for- 
ward, holding  out  anxious  hands  to  him,  and  dropped 
in  an  utter  abandon  of  weariness  and  distress  into 
his  astonished  arms. 


CHAPTER    XII. 


"  What  has  happened  ?  For  heaven's  sake  tell  me, 
mother,"  cried  Vincent,  as  she  sank  hack,  wiping 
her  eyes,  and  altogether  overpowered,  half  with  the 
trouble  which  he  did  not  know,  half  with  the  joy 
of  seeing  him  again — "  say  it  out  at  once,  and  don't 
keep  me  in  this  dreadful  suspense.  Susan  ?  She  is 
not  married  ?     What  is  wrong  ? " 

"  Oh,  my  dear  boy ! "  said  Mrs  Vincent,  recovering 
herself,  but  still  trembling  in  her  agitation — "  oh, 
my  affectionate  boy,  always  thinking  of  us  in  his 
good  heart !  No,  dear.  It's — it's  nothing  particular 
happened.  Let  me  compose  myself  a  little,  Arthur, 
and  take  breath." 

"But,  Susan?"  cried  the  excited  young  man. 

"  Susan,  poor  dear  ! — she  is  very  well ;  and — and 
very  happy  up  to  this  moment,  my  darling  boy," 
said  Mrs  Vincent,  "  though  whether  she  ought  to  be 
happy  under  the  circumstances — or  whether  it's  only 


192        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

a  cruel  trick — or  whethei  I  haven't  been  foolish  and 
precipitate — but.  my  dear,  what  could  I  do  but  come 
to  you,  Arthur?  I  could  not  have  kept  it  from  her 
if  I  had  staved  an  hour  longer  at  home.  And  to 
put  .such  a  dreadful  suspicion  into  her  head,  when 
it  might  be  all  a  falsehood,  would  have  only  been 
billing  her  ;  and,  my  dear  boy,  now  I  see  your  face 
again,  I'm  not  so  frightened — and  surely  it  can  be 
cleared  up,  and  all  will  be  well." 

Vincent,  whose  anxiety  conquered  his  impatience, 
even  while  exciting  it,  kneeled  down  by  his  mother's 
side  and  took  her  hands,  which  still  trembled,  into 
his  own.  "  Mother,  think  that  I  am  very  anxious ; 
that  I  don't  know  what  you  are  referring  to ;  and 
that  the  sudden  sight  of  you  has  filled  me  with  all 
sort  of  terrors — for  I  know  you  would  not  lightly 
take  such  a  journey  all  by  yourself,"  said  the  young 
man,  growing  still  more  anxious  as  he  thought  of  it 
— "  and  try  to  collect  your  thoughts  and  tell  me  what 
is  wrong." 

His  mother  drew  one  of  her  hands  out  of  his,  laid 
it  on  his  head,  and  fondly  smoothed  back  his  hair. 
"  My  dear  good  son  !  you  were  always  so  sensible — I 
wish  you  had  never  left  us,"  she  said,  with  a  little 
groan;  "  and  indeed  it  was  a  great  thought  to  under- 
take such  a  journey;  and  since  I  came  here,  Arthur, 
I  have  felt  so  flurried  and  strange,  that  I  have  not, 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  193 

as  you  see,  even  taken  off  my  bonnet ;  but  I  think 
now  you've  come,  dear,  if  you  would  ring  the 
bell  and  order  up  the  tea?  When  I  see  you,  and 
see  you  looking  so  well,  Arthur,  it  seems  as  if 
things  could  never  be  so  bad,  you  know.  My  dear," 
she  said  at  last,  with  a  little  quiver  in  her  voice, 
stopping  and  looking  at  him  with  a  kind  of  ner- 
vous alarm,  "  it  was  about  Mr  Fordham,  you  may 
be  sure." 

"  Tea  directly,"  said  Vincent  to  the  little  maid, 
who  appeared  just  at  this  crisis,  and  who  was  in  her 
turn  alarmed  by  the  brief  and  peremptory  order. 
"What  about  Mr  Fordham?"  he  said,  helping  his 
mother  to  take  off  the  cloak  and  warm  wraps  in 
which  she  had  been  sitting,  in  her  nervous  tremor 
and  agitation,  while  she  waited  his  return. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear,"  cried  poor  Mrs  Vincent, 
wringing  her  hands,  "  if  he  should  not  turn  out  as  he 
ought,  how  can  I  ever  forgive  myself  ?  I  had  a  kind 
of  warning  in  my  mind  the  first  time  he  came  to  the 
house,  and  I  have  always  dreamt  such  uncomfortable 
dreams  of  him,  Arthur.  Oh !  if  you  only  could 
have  seen  hini,  my  dear  boy !  But  he  was  such  a 
gentleman,  and  had  such  ways.  I  am  sure  he  must 
have  mixed  in  the  very  highest  society — and  he 
seemed  so  to  appreciate  Susan — not  only  to  be  in 
love  with  her,  you  know,  my  dear,  as  any  young 

VOL.  i.  n 


194  CHBONICLES    OF   CARLIXGFORD  : 

man  might,  l»ut  to  really  appreciate  my  sweet  girl 
Oh,  Arthur,  Arthur,  if  he  should  turn  out  badly,  it 
will  kill  me,  foi  my  Susan  will  break  her  heart." 

"Mother,  you  drive  me  frantic.  What  has  he 
done  ? "  cried  poor  Vincent. 

"  He  has  done  nothing,  my  dear,  that  I  know  of. 
It  is  not  him,  Arthur,  for  he  has  been  gone  for  a 
month,  arranging  his  affairs,  you  know,  before  the 
wedding,  and  writes  Susan  regularly  and  beautiful 
letters.  It  is  a  dreadful  scrawl  I  got  last  night.  I 
have  it  in  my  pocket-book.  It  came  by  the  last 
post  when  Susan  was  out,  thank  heayen.  I'll  show 
it  you  presently,  my  dear,  as  soon  as  I  can  find  it, 
but  I  have  so  many  papers  in  my  pocket-book.  She 
saw  directly  when  she  came  in  that  something  had 
happened,  and  oh,  Arthur,  it  was  so  hard  to  keep  it 
from  her.  I  don't  know  when  I  have  kept  anything 
from  her  before.  I  can't  tell  how  we  got  through 
the  night.  But  this  morning  1  made  up  the  most 
artful  story  I  could — here  is  the  dreadful  letter,  my 
dear,  at  last — about  being  determined  to  see  you,  and 
making  sure  that  you  were  taking  care  of  yourself; 
for  she  knew  as  well  as  I  did  how  negligent  you 
always  are  about  wet  feet.  Are  you  sure  your  feet 
are  dry  now,  Arthur  ?  Yes,  my  dear  boy,  it  makes 
me  very  uncomfortable.  You  don't  wonder  to  see 
your  poor  mother  here,  now,  after  that  ? " 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  195 

The  letter  which  Vincent  got  meanwhile,  and 
anxiously  read,  was  as  follows — the  handwriting  very 
mean,  with  a  little  tremor  in  it,  which  seemed  to  infei' 
that  the  writer  was  an  old  man  : — 

V 

"  Madam, — Though  I  am  but  a  poor  man,  I  can't 
abear  to  see  wrong  going  on,  and  do  nothink  to  stop 
it.  Madam,  I  beg  of  you  to  excuse  me,  as  am 
unknown  to  you,  and  as  can't  sign  my  honest  name 
to  it  like  a  man.  This  is  the  only  way  as  I  can  give 
you  a  word  of  warning.  Don't  let  the  young  lady 
marry  him  as  she's  agoing  to,  not  if  her  heart  should 
break  first.  Don't  have  nothink  to  do  with  Mr 
Fordham.  That's  not  his  right  name,  and  he  has  got 
a  wife  living — and  this  I  say  is  true,  as  sure  as  T 
have  to  answer  at  the  judgment ; — and  I  say  to  you 
as  a  friend,  Stop  it,  stop  it !  Don't  let  it  go  on 
a  step,  if  you  vally  the  young  lady's  charackter 
and  her  life.  I  don't  add  no  more,  because  that's 
all  I  dare  say,  being  only  a  servant ;  but  I  hope 
it's  enough  to  save  the  poor  young  lady  out  of 
his  clutches,  as  is  a  man  that  goeth  about  seek- 
ing whom  he  may  devour. — From  a  well -wisher, 
though  A  Stkangek." 

Mrs  Vincent's  mind  was  easier  when  this  epistle 
was   out   of  her   hands.     She  stood   up   before  the 


196  OHBONICLES   OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

mirror  to  take  off  her  bonnet,  and  put  her  cap  tidy  ; 
she  glided  across  the  room  to  take  up  the  shawl  and 
cloak  which  her  son  had  flung  upon  the  little  sofa 
anyhow,  and  to  fold  them  and  lay  them  together  on 
a  chair.  Then  the  trim  little  figure  approached  the 
table,  on  which  stood  a  dimly  burning  lamp,  which 
smoked  as  lamps  will  when  they  have  it  all  their 
own  way.  Mrs  Vincent  turned  down  the  light  a 
little,  and  then  proceeded  to  remove  the  globe  and 
chimney  by  way  of  seeing  what  was  wrong — bring- 
ing her  own  anxious  patient  face,  still  retaining 
many  traces  of  the  sweet  comeliness  which  had 
almost  reached  the  length  of  beauty  in  her  daughter, 
into  the  full  illumination  of  the  smoky  blaze.  Not- 
withstanding the  smoke,  the  presence  of  that  little 
woman  made  the  strangest  difference  in  the  room. 
She  took  note  of  various  evidences  of  litter  and 
untidiness  with  her  mind's  eye  as  she  examined 
the  lamp.  She  had  drawn  a  long  breath  of  relief 
when  she  put  the  letter  into  Arthur's  hand.  The 
sense  of  lightened  responsibility  seemed  almost  to 
relieve  her  anxiety  as  well.  She  held  the  chimney 
of  the  lamp  in  her  hand,  when  an  exclamation  from 
her  son  called  her  back  to  the  consideration  of  that 
grievous  question.  She  turned  to  him  with  a  sudden 
deepening  of  all  the  lines  in  her  face. 

"  Oh,  Arthur  dear !  don't  you  think  it  may  be  an 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  197 

enemy?   don't  you  think  it  looks  like  some  cruel 
trick  ?     You  don't  believe  it's  true  ? " 

"  Mother,  have  you  an  enemy  in  the  world  ?"  cried 
Vincent,  with  an  almost  bitter  affectionateness.  "  Is 
there  anybody  living  that  would  take  pleasure  in 
wounding  you  ? " 

"  No,  dear ;  but  Mr  Fordham  might  have  one," 
said  the  widow.  "  He  is  not  like  you  or  your  dear 
father,  Arthur.  He  looks  as  if  he  might  have  been 
in  the  army,  and  had  seen  a  great  deal  of  life.  That 
is  what  has  been  a  great  consolation  to  me.  A  man 
like  that,  you  know,  dear,  is  sure  to  have  enemies;  so 
very  different  from  our  quiet  way  of  life,"  said  Mrs 
Vincent,  holding  up  the  chimney  of  the  lamp,  and 
standing  a  little  higher  than  her  natural  five  feet, 
with  a  simple  consciousness  of  that  grandeur  of  ex- 
perience :  "  some  one  that  wished  him  ill  might  have 
got  some  one  else  to  write  the  letter.  Hush,  Arthur, 
here  is  the  maid  with  the  tea." 

The  maid  with  the  tea  pushed  in,  bearing  her  tray 
into  a  scene  which  looked  very  strange  to  her  awak- 
ened curiosity.  The  minister  stood  before  the  fire 
with  the  letter  in  his  hand,  narrowly  examining  it, 
seal,  post-mark,  handwriting,  even  paper.  He  did 
not  look  like  the  same  man  who  had  come  up-stairs 
three  steps  at  a  time,  in  the  glow  and  exhilaration  of 
hope,  scarcely  half  an  hour  ago.     His  teeth  were  set, 


198  CHRONICLES  OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

and  his  face  pale.  On  the  table  the  smoky  lamp 
blazed  into  the  dim  air,  unregulated  by  the  chimney, 
which  Mrs  Vincent  was  nervously  nil  thing  with  her 
handkerchief  before  she  put  it  on.  The  little  maid, 
with  her  round  eyes,  set  down  the  tray  upon  the 
table  with  an  answering  thrill  of  excitement  and 
curiosity.  There  was  "  somethink  to  do"  with  the 
minister  and  his  unexpected  visitor.  Vincent  himself 
took  no  notice  of  the  girl ;  but  his  mother,  with 
feminine  instinct,  proceeded  to  disarm  this  possible 
observer.  Mrs  Vincent  knew  well,  by  long  experi- 
ence, that  when  the  landlady  happens  to  be  one  of 
the  flock,  it  is  as  well  that  the  pastor  should  keep 
the  little  shocks  and  crises  of  his  existence  studi- 
ously to  himself. 

"  Does  it  always  smoke  ? "  said  the  gentle  Jesuit, 
addressing  the  little  maid. 

The  effect  of  so  sudden  and  discomposing  a  ques- 
tion, at  a  moment  when  the  person  addressed  was 
staring  with  all  her  soul  at  the  minister,  open- 
mouthed  and  open-eyed,  may  be  better  imagined 
than  described.  The  girl  gave  a  start  and  stifled  ex- 
clamation, and  made  all  the  cups  rattle  on  the  tray 
as  she  set  it  down.  Did  what  smoke  ? — the  chim- 
ney, or  the  minister,  or  the  landlady's  husband  down- 
stairs ? 

"  Does  it  always  smoke  ? "  repeated  Mrs  Vincent, 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  199 

calmly,  putting  on  the  chimney.  "  I  don't  think  it 
would  if  you  were  very  exact  in  putting  this  on. 
Look  here  :  always  at  this  height,  don't  you  see?  and 
now  it  burns  perfectly  well." 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  I'll  tell  missis,  ma'am,"  said  the 
girl,  backing  out,  with  some  alarm.  Mrs  Vincent 
sat  down  at  the  table  with  all  the  satisfaction  of  suc- 
cess and  conscious  virtue.  Her  son,  for  his  part,  flung 
himself  into  the  easy-chair  which  she  had  given  up, 
and  stared  at  her  with  an  impatience  and  wonder 
which  he  could  not  restrain. 

"  To  think  you  should  talk  about  the  lamp  at  such 
a  time,  or  notice  it  at  all,  indeed,  if  it  smoked  like 
fifty  chimneys  ! "  he  exclaimed,  with  a  tone  of  annoy- 
ance ;  "  why,  mother,  this  is  life  or  death." 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  dear ! "  said  the  mother,  a  little 
mortified  in  her  turn :  "  but  it  does  not  do  to  let 
strangers  see  when  you  are  in  trouble.  Oh,  Arthur, 
my  own  boy,  you  must  not  get  into  any  difficult \ 
here.  I  know  what  gossip  is  in  a  congregation  ;  you 
never  would  bear  half  of  what  your  poor  dear  papa 
did,"  said  the  widow,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  laying 
her  soft  old  fingers  upon  the  young  man's  impatienl 
hand.  "  You  have  more  of  my  quick  temper,  Ar- 
thur ;  and  whatever  you  do,  dear,  you  must  not  ex- 
pose yourself  to  be  talked  of.  You  are  all  we  have  in 
the  world.     You  must  be  your  sister's  protector  ;  for 


200  CHRONICLES   OF    CARLINGFORD  : 

oh,  if  this  should  be  true,  what  a  poor  protector  her 
mother  has  been!  And,  dear  hoy,  tell  me,  what  are 
we  to  do  ? " 

"  Had  he  any  friends  ? "  asked  Vincent,  half  sul- 
lenly ;  for  he  did  feel  an  instinctive  desire  to  blame 
somebody,  and  nobody  seemed  so  blamable  as  the 
mother,  who  had  admitted  a  doubtful  person  into  her 
house.  "Did  he  know  anybody — in  Lonsdale,  or 
anywhere  ?     Did  he  never  speak  of  his  friends  ? " 

"  He  had  been  living  abroad/'  said  Mrs  Vincent, 
slowly.  "  He  talked  of  gentlemen  sometimes,  at  Ba- 
den, and  Homburg,  and  such  places.  I  am  afraid  you 
would  think  it  very  silly,  and — and  perhaps  wrong, 
Arthur  ;  but  he  seemed  to  know  so  much  of  the  world 
— so  different  from  our  quiet  way  of  life — that  being 
so  nice  and  good  and  refined  himself  with  it  all — 1 
am  afraid  it  was  rather  an  attraction  to  Susan.  It  was 
so  different  to  what  she  was  used  with,  my  dear.  We 
used  to  think  a  man  who  had  seen  so  much,  and 
known  so  many  temptations,  and  kept  his  nice  simple 
tastes  through  it  all — oh,  dear,  dear !  If  it  is  true, 
I  was  never  so  deceived  in  all  my  life." 

"  But  you  have  not  told  me,"  said  Arthur,  morose- 
ly, "  if  he  had  any  friends  ? " 

"Nobody  in  Lonsdale,"  said  Mrs  Vincent.  "He 
came  to  see  some  young  relative  at  school  in  the 
neighbourhood " 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  201 

At  this  point  Mrs  Vincent  broke  off  with  a  half 
scream,  interrupted  by  a  violent  start  and  exclama- 
tion from  her  son,  who  jumped  off  his  seat,  and  began 
to  pace  up  and  down  the  room  in  an  agitation  which 
she  could  not  comprehend.  This  start  entirely  over- 
powered his  mother.  Her  overwrought  nerves  and 
feelings  relieved  themselves  in  tears.  She  got  up, 
trembling,  approached  the  young  man,  put  her  hand, 
which  shook,  through  his  arm,  and  implored  him, 
crying  softly  all  the  time,  to  tell  her  what  he  feared,* 
what  he  thought,  what  was  the  matter  ?  Poor  Vin- 
cent's momentary  ill-humour  deserted  him  :  he  began 
to  realise  all  the  complications  of  the  position;  but 
he  could  not  resist  the  sight  of  his  mother's  tears. 
He  led  her  back  gently  to  the  easy-chair,  poured  out 
for  her  a  cup  of  the  neglected  tea,  and  restrained  him- 
self for  her  sake.  It  was  while  she  took  this  much- 
needed  refreshment  that  he  unfolded  to  her  the  story 
of  the  helpless  strangers  whom,  only  the  night  before, 
he  had  committed  to  her  care. 

"  The  mother  you  shall  see  for  yourself  to-morrow. 
I  can't  tell  what  she  is,  except  a  lady,  though  in  the 
strangest  circumstances,"  said  Vincent.  "  She  has 
some  reason — I  cannot  tell  what — for  keeping  her 
child  out  of  the  father's  hands.  She  appealed  to  me 
to  let  her  send  it  to  you,  because  he  had  been  at 
Lonsdale  already,  and  I  could  not  refuse.     His  name 


202        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  '. 

is  Coloiu'l  Mildmay  ;  be  has  been  at  Lonsdale  ;  did 
you  hear  of  such  a  man  ? " 

Mrs  Vincent  shook  her  head — her  face  grew  more 
and  more  troubled. 

"  I  don't  know  about  reasons  for  keeping  a  child 
from  its  father,"  she  said,  still  shaking  her  head. 
"  My  dear,  dear  boy,  I  hope  no  designing  woman  has 
g(  it  a  hold  upon  you.  Why  did  you  start  so,  Arthur  ? 
what  had  Mr  Fordham  to  do  with  the  child  ?  Susan 
•  would  open  my  letters,  of  course,  and  I  daresay 
she  will  make  them-  very  comfortable ;  but,  Arthur- 
dear,  though  I  don't  blame  you,  it  was  very  impru- 
dent. Is  Colonel  Mildmay  the  lady's  husband  ?  or — 
i  >r  what  ?  Dear  boy,  you  should  have  thought  of 
Susan — Susan,  a  young  girl,  must  not  be  mixed  up 
with  anybody  of  doubtful  character.  It  was  all  your 
good  heart,  I  know,  but  it  was  very  imprudent,  to  be 
sure." 

Vincent  laughed,  in  a  kind  of  agony  of  mingled 
distress,  anxiety,  and  strange  momentary  amusement. 
His  mother  and  he  were  both  blaming  each  other 
for  the  same  fault.  Both  of  them  had  equally  yielded 
to  kind  feeling's,  and  the  natural  impulse  of  generous 
hearts,  without  any  consideration  of  prudence.  But 
his  mistake  could  not  be  attended  by  any  conse- 
quences a  hundredth  part  so  serious  as  hers. 

"  In  the  mean  time,  we  must  do  something,"  he 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  203 

said.  "  If  he  has  no  friends,  he  has  at  least  an  ad- 
dress, I  suppose.  Susan  " — and  a  flush  of  indignation 
and  affectionate  anger  crossed  the  young  man's  face 
— "  Susan,  no  doubt,  writes  to  the  rascal.  Susan ! 
my  sister  !     Good  heaven !  " 

"Arthur  !  "  said  Mrs  Vincent.  "Your  dear  papa 
always  disapproved  of  such  exclamations :  he  said 
they  were  just  a  kind  of  oath,  though  people  did  not 
think  so.  And  you  ought  not  to  call  him  a  rascal 
without  proof — indeed,  it  is  very  sinful  to  come  to 
such  hasty  judgments.  Yes,  I  have  got  the  address 
written  down — it  is  in  my  pocket-book.  But  what 
shall  you  do?  Will  you  write  to  himself,  Arthur? 
or  what?  To  be  sure,  it  would  be  best  to  go  to  him 
and  settle  it  at  once." 

"  Oh,  mother,  have  a  little  prudence  now,"  cried 
the  afflicted  minister ;  "  if  he  were  base  enough  to 
propose  marriage  to  Susan  (confound  him  !  that's  not 
an  oath — my  father  himself  would  have  said  as  much) 
under  such  circumstances,  don't  you  think  he  has 
the  courage  to  tell  a  lie  as  well  ?  I  shall  go  up  to 
town,  and  to  his  address  to-morrow,  and  see  what  is 
to  be  found  there.  You  must  rest  in  the  mean  time. 
Writing  is  out  of  the  question  ;  what  is  to  be  done,  I 
must  do — and  without  a  moment's  loss  of  time." 

The  mother  took  his  hand  again,  and  put  her 
handkerchief  to  her  eyes — "  God  bless  my  dear  boy," 


204       CHBONICLES  OF  CAULINGFORD  : 

she  said,  with  a  mother's  tearful  admiration — "Oh, 
what  a  tiling  for  me,  Arthur,  that  you  are  grown  up 
and  a  man,  and  able  to  do  what  is  right  in  such  a 
dreadful  difficulty  as  this!  You  put  me  in  mind 
nunc  and  more  of  your  dear  father  when  you  settle 
so  clearly  what  is  to  he  done.  He  was  always  ready 
to  act  when  I  used  to  be  in  a  flutter,  which  was 
best.  And,  oh,  how  good  has  the  Father  of  the 
fatherless  been  to  me  in  giving  me  such  a  son  ! " 

"  Ah,  mother,"  said  the  young  minister,  "  you  gave 
premature  thanks  before,  when  you  thought  the 
Father  of  the  fatherless  had  brought  poor  Susan  a 
happy  lot.     Do  you  say  the  same  now  ? " 

"  Always  the  same,  Arthur  dear,"  cried  his  mother, 
with  tears — "always  the  same.  If  it  is  even  so,  is  it 
me,  do  you  think,  or  is  it  Him  that  knows  best  ? " 

After  this  the  agitation  and  distress  of  the  first 
meeting  gradually  subsided.  That  mother,  with  all 
her  generous  imprudence  and  innocence  of  heart, 
was,  her  son  well  knew,  the  tenderest,  the  most 
indulgent,  the  most  sympathetic  of  all  his  friends. 
Though  the  little — the  very  little  insight  he  had 
obtained  into  life  and  the  world  had  made  him  think 
himself  wiser  than  she  was  in  some  respects,  nothing 
had  ever  come  between  them  to  disturb  the  boy's 
half- adoring,  half  -  protecting  love.  He  bethought 
himself  of  providing  for  her  comfort,  as  she  sat  look- 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  205 

ing  at  him  in  the  easy-chair,  with  her  eyes  smiling 
on  him  through  their  tears,  patiently  sipping  the  tea, 
which  was  a  cold  and  doubtful  infusion,  nothing  like 
the  fragrant  lymph  of  home.  He  poked  the  fire  till 
it  blazed,  and  drew  her  chair  towards  it,  and  hunted 
up  a  footstool  which  he  had  himself  kicked  out  of 
the  way,  under  the  sofa,  a  month  before.  "When  he 
looked  at  the  dear  tender  fresh  old  face  opposite  to 
him,  in  that  close  white  cap  which  even  now,  after 
the  long  fatiguing  journey,  looked  fresher  and  purer 
than  other  people's  caps  and  faces  look  at  their  best, 
a  thaw  came  upon  the  young  man's  heart.  Nature 
awoke  and  yearned  in  him.  A  momentary  glimpse 
crossed  his  vision  of  a  humble  happiness  long  within 
his  reach,  which  never  till  now,  when  it  was  about 
to  become  impossible  for  ever,  had  seemed  real  or 
practicable,  or  even  desirable  before. 

"Mother,  dear,"  said  Vincent,  with  a  tremulous 
smile,  "  you  shall  come  here,  Susan  and  you,  to  me ; 
and  we  shall  all  lie  together  again — and  comfort  each 
other,"  he  added,  with  a  deeper  gravity  still,  thinking 
of  his  own  lot. 

His  mother  did  not  answer  in  many  words.  She 
said,  "  My  own  boy  !  "  softly,  following  him  with  her 
eyes.  It  was  hard,  even  with  Susan's  dreadful  danger 
before  her,  to  help  being  tearfully  happy  in  seeing 
him  ao;ain — in  beinc:  his  smest — in  realising  the  full 


206  I  SBONICLB8  OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

strength  of  his  manhood  and  independence.  She 
gave  herself  up  to  that  feeling  of  maternal  pride  and 
consolation  as  she  once  more  dried  the  tears  which 
would  <ome,  notwithstanding  all  her  efforts.  Then 
he  sat  down  beside  her,  and  resigned  himself  to  that 
confidential  talk  which  can  rarely  be  but  between 
members  of  the  same  family.  He  had  unburdened 
his  mind  unconsciously  in  his  letters  about  Tozer 
and  the  deacons ;  and  it  cannot  be  told  what  a  re- 
freshment it  was  to  be  able  to  utter  roundly  in  words 
his  sentiments  on  all  those  subjects.  The  power  of 
saying  it  out  with  no  greater  hindrance  than  her  mild 
remonstrances,  mingled,  as  they  were,  with  questions 
which  enabled  him  to  complete  his  sketches,  and 
smiles  of  amusement  at  his  descriptive  powers,  put 
him  actually  in  better  humour  with  Salem.  He 
felt  remorseful  and  charitable  after  he  had  said  his 
worst. 

"  And  are  you  sure,  dear,"  said  Mrs  Vincent,  at 
last  resuming  the  subject  nearest  her  heart,  "  that 
you  can  go  away  to-morrow  without  neglecting  any 
duty  ?  You  must  not  neglect  a  duty,  Arthur — not 
even  for  Susan's  sake.  Whatever  happens  to  us,  you 
must  keep  right." 

"  I  have  no  duty  to  detain  me,"  said  Vincent, 
hastily.     Then  a  sudden  glow  came  over  the  young 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  207 

man,  a  flush  of  happiness  which  stole  upon  him  like 
a  thief,  and  brightened  his  own  personal  firmament 
with  a  secret  unacknowledgable  delight ;  "  but  I  must 
return  early,"  he  added,  with  a  momentary  hesitation 
— "for  if  you  won't  think  it  unkind  to  leave  you. 
mother,  I  am  engaged  to  dinner.  I  should  scarcely 
like  to  miss  it,"  he  concluded,  after  another  pause, 
tying  knots  in  his  handkerchief,  and  taking  care  not 
to  look  at  her  as  he  spoke. 

"To  dinner,  Arthur?  I  thought  your  people  only 
gave  teas,"  said  Mrs  Vincent,  with  a  smile. 

"The  Salem  people  do  ;  but  this — is  not  one  of  the 
Salem  people,"  said  the  minister,  still  hesitating. 
"  In  fact,  it  would  be  ungracious  of  me  not  to 
go,  and  cowardly,  too — for  that  curate,  I  believe,  is 
to  meet  me — and  Lady  Western  would  naturally 
think " 

"Lady  Western!"  said  Mrs  Vincent,  with  irre- 
strainable  pleasure  ;  "  is  that  one  of  the  great  people 
in  Carlingford  ? "  The  good  woman  wiped  her  eyes 
again  with  the  very  tenderest  and  purest  demonstra- 
tion of  that  adoration  of  rank  which  is  said  to  be  an 
English  instinct.  "  I  don't  mean  to  be  foolish,  dear," 
she  said,  apologetically  ;  "  I  know  these  distinctions 
of  society  are  not  worth  j^our  caring  about ;  but  to 
see  my  Arthur  appreciated  as  he  should  be,  is " 


208       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

She  could  not  find  words  to  say  what  it  was — she 
wound  up  with  a  little  sob.  What  with  trouble  and 
anxiety,  and  pride  and  delight,  and  bodily  fatigue 
added  to  all,  tears  came  easiest  that  night. 

Vincent  did  not  say  whether  or  not  these  distinc- 
tions of  society  were  worth  caring  about.  He  sat 
abstractedly,  untying  the  knots  in  his  handkerchief, 
with  a  faint  smile  on  his  face.  Then,  while  that 
pleasurable  glow  remained,  he  escorted  his  mother 
to  his  own  sleeping-room,  which  he  had  given  up  to 
her,  and  saw  that  her  fire  burned  brightly,  and  that 
all  was  comfortable.  When  he  returned  to  poke  his 
solitary  fire,  it  was  some  time  before  he  took  out  the 
letter  which  had  disturbed  his  peace.  The  smile  died 
away  first  by  imperceptible  degrees  from  his  face. 
He  gradually  erected  himself  out  of  the  meditative 
lounge  into  which  he  had  fallen ;  then,  with  a  little 
start,  as  if  throwing  dreams  away,  he  took  out  and 
examined  the  letter.  The  more  he  looked  at  it,  the 
graver  and  deeper  became  the  anxiety  in  his  face. 
It  had  every  appearance  of  being  genuine  in  its  bad 
writing  and  doubtful  spelling.  And  Vincent  started 
again  with  an  unexplainable  thrill  of  alarm  when  he 
thought  how  utterly  unprotected  his  mother's  sudden 
journey  had  left  that  little  house  in  Lonsdale.  Susan 
had  no  warning,  no   safeguard.      He  started  up  in 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  209 

momentary  fright,  but  as  suddenly  sat  down  again 
with  a  certain  indignation  at  his  own  thoughts.  No- 
body could  carry  her  off,  or  do  any  act  of  violence ; 
and  as  for  taking  advantage  of  her  solitude,  Susan,  a 
straightforward,  simple-minded  English  girl,  was  safe 
in  her  own  pure  sense  of  right. 


VOL.  1. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 


Next  morning  Mi  Vincent  gdt  up  early,  with  an 
indescribable  commotion  in  all  his  thoughts.  He 
was  to  institute  inquiries  which  might  be  life  or 
death  to  his  sister,  but  yet  could  not  keep  his  mind 
to  the  contemplation  of  that  grave  necessity.  A 
flicker  of  private  hope  and  expectation  kept  gleaming 
with  uncertain  light  over  the  dark  weight  of  anxiety 
in  his  heart.  He  could  not  help,  in  the  very  deepest 
of  his  thoughts  about  Susan,  breaking  off  now  and 
then  into  a  momentary  digression,  which  suddenly 
carried  him  into  Lady  Western's  drawing-room,  and 
startled  his  heart  with  a  thrill  of  conscious  delight, 
secret  and  exquisite,  which  he  could  neither  banish 
nor  deny.  In  and  out,  and  round  about  that  griev- 
ous doubt  which  had  suddenly  disturbed  the  quiet 
history  of  his  family,  this  capricious  fairy  played, 
touching  all  his  anxious  thoughts  with  thrills  of 
sweetness.     It  seemed  an  action  involuntary  to  him- 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  211 

self,  and  over  which  he  had  no  power  ;  but  it  gave 
the  young  man  an  equalty  involuntary  and  causeless 
cheer  and  comfort.  It  did  not  seem  possible  that 
any  dreadful  discovery  could  be  made  that  day,  in 
face  of  the  fact  that  he  was  to  meet  Her  that  night. 

When  he  met  his  mother  at  breakfast,  the  recol- 
lection of  Mrs  Hilyard  and  the  charge  she  had  com- 
mitted to  him,  came  to  his  mind  again.  ~No  doubt 
Susan  would  take  the  wanderers  in — no  doubt  they 
were  as  safe  in  the  cottage  as  it  was  possible  to  be 
in  a  humble  inviolable  English  home,  surrounded  by 
all  the  strength  of  neighbours  and  friends,  and  the 
protection  of  a  spotless  life  which  everybody  knew  ; 
but  yet That  was  not  what  his  strange  acquaint- 
ance had  expected  or  bargained  for.  He  felt  as  if 
he  had  broken  faith  with  her  when  he  realised  his 
mother's  absence  from  her  own  house.  Yet  somehow 
he  felt  a  certain  hesitation  in  broaching  the  subject, 
and  unconsciously  prepared  himself  for  doubts  and 
reluctance.  The  certainty  of  this  gave  a  forced 
character  to  the  assumed  easiness  with  which  he 
spoke. 

"  You  will  go  to  see  Mrs  Hilyard,"  he  said ;  "  I 
owe  it  to  her  to  explain  that  you  were  absent  before 
her  child  went  there.  They  will  be  safe  enough  at 
home,  no  doubt,  with  Susan  ;  but  still,  you  know,  it 
would  have  been  different  had  you  been  there." 


212       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLIXGFORD  : 

"  Yes,  Arthur,"  said  ]\Irs  Vincent,  with  an  inde- 
scribable dryness  in  her  voice. 

"You  will  find  her  a  very  interesting  woman," 
said  her  son,  instinctively  contending  against  that 
unexpressed  doubt — "  the  strangest  contrast  to  her 
surroundings.  The  very  sound  of  her  voice  carries 
one  a  thousand  miles  from  Salem.  Had  I  seen  her 
in  a  palace,  I  doubt  whether  I  should  have  been 
equally  impressed  by  her.  You  will  be  interested 
in  spite  of  yourself." 

"  It  is,  as  you  say,  very  strange,  Arthur,"  said  Mrs 
Vincent — the  dryness  in  her  voice  increasing  to  the 
extent  of  a  short  cough ;  "  when  does  your  train 
start?" 

"  Not  till  eleven,"  said  Vincent,  looking  at  his 
watch  ;  "  but  you  must  please  me,  and  go  to  see  her, 
mother." 

"  That  reminds  me,  dear,"  said  Mrs  Vincent,  hur- 
riedly, "  that  now  I  am  here,  little  as  it  suits  my 
feelings,  you  must  take  me  to  see  some  of  your  peo- 
ple, Arthur.  Mrs  Tufton,  and  perhaps  the  Tozers, 
you  know.  They  might  not  like  to  hear  that  your 
mother  had  been  in  Carlingford,  and  had  not  gone 
to  see  them.  It  will  be  hard  work  visiting  strangers 
while  I  am  in  this  dreadful  anxiety,  but  I  must  not 
be  the  means  of  bringing  you  into  any  trouble  with 
your  flock." 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  213 

"  Oh,  never  mind  my  flock,"  said  Vincent,  with 
some  impatience ;  "  put  on  your  bonnet,  and  come 
and  see  her,  mother/' 

"Arthur,  you  are  going  by  the  first  train,"  said  his 
mother. 

"  There  is  abundant  time,  and  it  is  not  too  early 
for  her"  persisted  the  minister. 

But  it  was  not  so  easy  to  conquer  that  meek 
little  woman.  "  I  feel  very  much  fatigued  to-day," 
she  said,  turning  her  eyes,  mild  but  invincible,  with 
the  most  distinct  contradiction  of  her  words  to  her 
son's  face  ;  "  if  it  had  not  been  my  anxiety  to  have 
all  I  could  of  you,  Arthur,  I  should  not  have  got 
up  to-day.  A  journey  is  a  very  serious  matter,  dear, 
for  an  old  woman.  One  does  not  feel  it  so  much  at 
first,"  continued  this  plausible  defendant,  still  with 
her  mild  eyes  on  her  son's  face,  secure  in  the  perfect 
reasonableness  of  her  plea,  yet  not  unwilling  that  he 
should  perceive  it  was  a  pretence  ;  "  it  is  the  next  day 
one  feels  it.  I  shall  lie  down  on  the  sofa,  and  rest 
when  you  are  gone." 

And,  looking  into  his  mother's  soft  eyes,  the  young 
Nonconformist  retreated,  and  made  no  more  attempts 
to  shake  her.  Not  the  invulnerability  of  the  fortress 
alone  discouraged  him — though  that  was  mildly  ob- 
durate, and  proof  to  argument — but  a  certain  un easi- 
ness in  the  thought  of  that  meeting,  an  inclination 


214  CHRONICLES   of   CARIjINGFORD  : 

to  postpone  it.  and  stave  off  the  thought  of  all  that 
might  follow,  surprised  himself  in  his  own  mind. 
Why  he  should  be  afraid  of  the  encounter,  or  how 
any  complication  could  arise  out  of  it,  he  could  not 
by  any  means  imagine,  but  such  was  the  instinctive 
sentiment  in  his  heart. 

Accordingly  he  went  up  to  London  by  the  train, 
leaving  Mrs  Hilyard  unwarned,  and  his  mother  re- 
posing on  the  sofa,  from  which,  it  is  sad  to  say,  she 
rose  a  few  minutes  after  he  was  gone,  to  refresh  her- 
self by  tidying  his  bookcase  and  looking  over  all  his 
linen  and  stockings,  in  which  last  she  found  a  very 
wholesome  subject  of  contemplation,  which  relieved 
the  pressure  of  her  thoughts  much  more  effectually 
than  could  have  been  done  by  the  rest  which  she 
originally  proposed.  Arthur,  for  his  part,  went  up 
to  London  with  a  certain  nervous  thrill  of  anxiety 
rising  in  his  breast  as  he  approached  the  scene  and 
the  moment  of  his  inquiries  ;  though  it  was  still 
only  by  intervals  that  he  realised  the  momentous 
nature  of  those  inquiries,  on  the  result  of  which  poor 
Susan's  harmless  girlish  life,  all  unconscious  of  the 
danger  thai  threatened  it,  hung  in  the  balance.  Poor 
Susan  !  just  then  going  on  with  a  bride's  preparations 
for  the  approaching  climax  of  her  youthful  existence. 
Was  she,  indeed,  really  a  bride,  with  nothing  but 
truth  and  sweet  honour  in  the  contract  that  bound 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  215 

her,  or  was  she  the  sport  of  a  villanous  pastime  that 
would  break  her  heart,  and  might  have  shipwrecked 
her  fair  fame  and  innocent  existence  ?  Her  brother 
set  his  teeth  hard  as  he  asked  himself  that  question. 
Minister  as  he  was,  it  might  have  been  a  dangerous 
chance  for  Fordham,  had  he  come  at  that  moment 
without  ample  proofs  of  guiltlessness  in  the  Noncon- 
formist's way. 

When  he  got  to  town,  he  whirled,  as  fast  as  it  was 
possible  to  go,  to  the  address  where  Susan's  guileless 
letters  were  sent  almost  daily.  It  was  in  a  street  off 
Piccadilly,  full  of  lodging-houses,  and  all  manner  of 
hangers-on  and  ministrants  to  the  world  of  fashion. 
He  found  the  house  directly,  and  was  somewhat  com- 
forted to  find  it  really  an  actual  house,  and  not  a 
myth  or  Doubtful  Castle,  or  a  post-office  window. 
He  knocked  with  the  real  knocker,  and  heard  the 
bell  peal  through  the  comparative  silence  in  the 
street,  and  insensibly  cheered  up,  and  began  to  look 
forward  to  the  appearance  of  a  real  Mr  Fordham, 
with  unquestionable  private  history  and  troops  of 
friends.  A  quiet  house,  scrupulously  clean,  entirely 
respectable,  yet  distinct  in  all  its  features  of  lodging- 
house  ;  a  groom  in  the  area  below,  talking  to  an 
invisible  somebody,  also  a  man,  who  seemed  to  be 
cleaning  somebody  else's  boots  ;  up-stairs,  at  the  first- 
floor  balcony,  a  smart  little  tiger  making  a  fashion 


216       CHRONICLES  OF  CABLINGFOBD  : 

of  watering  plants,  and  actually  doing  his  best  to 
sprinkle  the  conversational  groom  below  ;  altogether 
a  superabundance  of  male  attendants,  quite  incom- 
patible with  the  integrity  of  the  small  dwelling-place 
as  ;i  private  house  Another  man,  who  evidently  be- 
longed to  the  place,  opened  the  door,  interrupting 
\'i nee nt  suddenly  in  his  observations — an  elderly 
man,  half  servant,  half  master,  in  reality  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  place,  ready  either  to  wait  or  be  waited 
on  as  occasion  might  require.  Turning  with  a  little 
start  from  his  inspection  of  the  attendant  circum- 
stances, Vincent  asked,  did  Mr  Fordham  live  there  ? 

The  man  made  a  momentary  but  visible  pause  ; 
whatever  it  might  betoken,  it  was  not  ignorance.  He 
did  not  answer  with  the  alacrity  of  frank  knowledge 
or  simple  non-information.  He  paused,  then  said, 
"Mr  Fordham,  sir?"  looking  intently  at  Vincent, 
and  taking  in  every  particular  of  his  appearance, 
dres3,  and  professional  looks,  with  one  rapid  glance. 

"  Mr  Fordham,"  repeated  Vincent,  "  docs  he  live 
here  ? " 

Once  more  the  man  perused  him,  swiftly  and  cau- 
tiously. "  No,  sir,  he  does  not  live  here,"  was  the 
second  response. 

"  I  was  told  this  was  his  address/'  said  Vincent. 
"  I  perceive  you  are  not  ignorant  of  him  ;  where  does 
he  live?     I  know  his  letters  come  here." 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  217 

"  There  are  a  many  gentlemen  in  the  house  in  the 
course  of  the  season,"  answered  the  man,  still  on  the 
alert  to  find  out  Vincent's  meaning  by  his  looks — 
"  sometimes  letters  keep  on  coming  months  after 
they  are  gone.  When  we  knows  their  home  address, 
sir,  we  sends  them  ;  when  we  don't,  we  keeps  them 
by  us  till  we  see  if  any  owner  turns  up.  Gen'leman 
of  the  name  of  Fordham  ? — do  you  happen  to  know, 
sir,  what  part  o'  the  country  he  comes  from  ?  There's 
the  Lincolnshire  Fordhams,  as  you  know,  sir,  and  the 
Northumberland  Fordhams ;  but  there's  no  gen'le- 
man of  that  name  lives  here." 

"  I  am  sure  you  know  perfectly  whom  I  mean,'' 
said  Vincent,  in  his  heat  and  impatience.  "  I  don't 
mean  Mr  Fordham  any  harm — I  only  want  to  see 
him,  or  to  get  some  information  about  him,  if  he  is 
not  to  be  seen.  Tell  me  where  he  does  live,  or  tell  me 
which  of  his  friends  is  in  town,  that  I  may  ask  them. 
I  tell  you  I  don't  mean  Mr  Fordham  any  harm." 

"  No,  sir  ? — nor  I  don't  know  as  anybody  means 
any  harm,"  said  the  man,  once  more  examining  Vin- 
cent's appearance.  "  What  was  it  as  you  were 
wishing  to  know?  Though- 1  ain't  acquainted  with 
the  gen'leman  myself,  the  missis  or  some  of  the  people 
may  be.  We  have  a  many  coming  and  going,  and  I 
might  confuse  a  name. — What  was  it  as  you  were 
wishful  to  know?" 


218  CHRONICLES   OF    CARLINGFOIU  >  : 

"  I  wish  to  see  Mr  Fordham,"  said  Vincent,  impa- 
tiently. 

"  I  have  told  you,  sir,  he  don't  live  here,"  said  the 
guardian  of  the  house. 

"  Then,  look  here  ;  you  don't  deceive  me,  remem- 
ber. I  can  see  you  know  all  about  him,"  said  Vincenl  ; 
"  and,  as  T  tell  you,  I  mean  him  no  harm  ;  answer 
me  one  or  two  simple  questions,  and  I  will  either 
thank  or  reward  you  as  you  like  best.  In  the  first 
place,  Is  this  Mr  Fordham  a  married  man  ?  and,  Has 
he  ever  gone  by  another  name  ? " 

As  he  asked  these  questions  the  man  grinned  in 
his  face.  "  Lord  bless  you,  sir,  we  don't  ask  no  such 
questions  here.  A  genleman  comes  and  has  his  rooms, 
and  pays,  and  goes  away,  and  gives  such  name  as  he 
pleases.  I  don't  ask  a  certificate  of  baptism,  not  if 
all's  right  in  the  pay  department.  We  don't  take 
ladies  in,  being  troublesome ;  but  if  a  man  was  to 
have  a  dozen  wives,  what  could  we  know  about  it? 
Sony  to  disoblige  a  clergyman,  sir;  but  as  I  don't 
know  nothing  about  Mr  Fordham,  perhaps  you'll 
excuse  me,  as  it's  the  busiest  time  of  the  day. " 

"  Well,  then,  my  good  man,"  said  Vincent,  taking 
out  his  purse,  "  tell  me  what  friend  he  has  that  I  can 
apply  to  ;  you  will  do  me  the  greatest  service,  and 
I " 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  219 

"  Sorry  to  disoblige  a  clergyman,  as  I  say,"  said 
the  man,  angrily  ;  "  but,  begging  your  pardon,  I  can  t 
stand  jabbering  here.  I  never  was  a  spy  on  a  gen'le- 
man,  and  never  will  be.  If  you  want  to  know,  you'll 
have  to  find  out.     Time's  money  to  me." 

With  which  the  landlord  of  No.  10  Nameless 
Street,  Piccadilly,  shut  the  door  abruptly  in  Vincent's 
face.  A  postman  was  audibly  approaching  at  the 
moment.  Could  that  have  anything  to  do  with  the 
sudden  breaking  off  of  the  conference  ?  The  minister, 
exasperated,  yet,  becoming  more  anxious,  stood  for 
a  moment  in  doubt,  facing  the  blank  closed  door. 
Then,  desperate,  turned  round  suddenly,  and  faced 
the  advancing  Mercury.  He  had  no  letters  for  No. 
10;  he  was  hastening  past,  altogether  regardless  of 
Vincent's  look  of  inquiry.  When  he  was  addressed, 
however,  the  postman  responded  with  immediate  di- 
rectness. "  Fordham,  sir — yes — a  gentleman  of  that 
name  lives  at  No.  10 — leastways  he  has  his  letters 
there — No.  10 — where  you  have  just  been,  sir." 

"  But  they  say  he  doesn't  live  there,"  said  Vincent. 

"  Can't  tell,  sir — has  his  letters  there,"  said  the 
public  servant,  decidedly. 

More  than  ever  perplexed,  Vincent  followed  the 
postman  to  pursue  his  inquiries.  "  What  sort  of  a 
house  is  it  ? "  he  asked. 


220        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

"  Highly  respectable  house,  sir,"  answered  the  terse 
and  decisive  functionary,  performing  an  astounding 

rap  nr\t  door. 

In  an  ag<my  of  impatience  and  uncertainty,  the 
young  man  lingered  opposite  the  house,  conscious  of 
a  helplessness  and  impotence  which  made  him  furi- 
ous with  himself.  That  he  ought  to  be  able  to  get  to 
the  bottom  of  it  was  clear  ;  but  that  he  was  as  far 
as  possible  from  knowing  how  to  do  that  same,  or 
where  to  pursue  his  inquiries,  was  indisputable.  One 
thing  was  certain,  that  Mr  Fordham  did  not  choose 
to  be  visible  at  this  address  to  which  his  letters  were 
sent,  and  that  it  was  hopeless  to  attempt  to  extract 
any  information  on  the  subject  by  such  frank  inquir- 
ies as  the  minister  had  already  made.  He  took  a 
half-hour's  walk,  and  thought  it  over  with  no  great 
enlightenment  on  the  subject.  Then,  coming  back, 
applied  once  more  at  the  highly  respectable  uncom- 
municative door.  He  had  entertained  hopes  that 
another  and  more  manageable  adherent  of  the  house 
might  possibly  appear  this  time — a  maid,  or  impres- 
sionable servitor  of  some  description,  and  had  a  little 
piece  of  gold  ready  for  the  propitiatory  tip  in  his 
hand.  His  hopes  were,  however,  put  to  flight  by  the 
appearance  of  the  same  face,  increased  in  respecta- 
bility and  composure  by  the  fact  that  the  owner  had 
thrown  off  the  jacket  in  which  he  had  formerly  been 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  221 

invested,  aud  now  appeared  in  a  solemn  black  coat, 
the  essence  of  respectable  and  dignified  servitude. 
He  fixed  his  eyes  severely  upon  Vincent  as  soon  as 
he  opened  the  door.  He  was  evidently  disgusted  by 
this  return  to  the  charge. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Vincent,  somewhat  startled  and 
annoyed  to  find  himself  confronted  by  the  same  face 
which  had  formerly  defied  him ;  "  could  you  get  a 
note  conveyed  from  me  to  Mr  Fordham  ? — the  post- 
man says  he  has  his  letters  here." 

"  Tf  he  gets  his  letters  here  they  come  by  the  post," 
said  the  man,  insolently.  "There's  a  post-office  round 
the  corner,  but  I  don't  keep  one  here.  If  one  reaches 
him,  another  will.     It  ain't  nothing  to  me." 

"  But  it  is  a  great  deal  to  me,"  said  Vincent,  with 
involuntary  earnestness.  "  You  have  preserved  his 
secret  faithfully,  whatever  it  may  be ;  but  it  surely 
can't  be  any  harm  to  convey  a  note  to  Mr  Fordham. 
Most  likely,  when  he  hears  my  name,"  said  the  young 
man,  with  a  little  consciousness  that  what  he  said 
was  more  than  he  believed,  "  he  will  see  me  ;  and  I 
have  to  leave  town  this  evening.  You  will  do  me  a 
great  service  if  you  will  save  me  the  delay  of  the 
post,  aud  get  it  delivered  at  once.  And  you  may  do 
Mr  Fordham  a  service  too." 

The  man  looked  with  less  certainty  in  Vincent's 
face. — "  Seems  to  me  some  people  don't  know  what 


'_'•_>  J       CHRONICLES  OF  OARLINGPORD  : 

'No'  means,  when  it's  said,"  he  replied,  with  a  certain 
relenting  in  liis  voice.  "  There's  things  as  a  gen'leman 
ought  to  know,  sure  enough— something  happened  in 
the  family  or  so;  but  you  see,  he  don't  live  here;  and 
since  you  stand  it  out  so,  I  don't  mind  saying  that 
he's  a  gen'leman  as  can't  be  seen  in  town  to-day,  see- 
ing Ik's  in  the  country,  as  I'm  informed,  on  urgent 
private  affairs.  It's  uncommon  kind  of  a  clergyman, 
and  a  stranger,  to  take  such  an  interest  in  my  house," 
continued  the  fellow,  grinning  spitefully  ;  "  but  what 
I  say  first  I  say  last— he  don't  live  here." 

"  And  he  is  not  in  town'?"  asked  Vincent  eagerly, 
without  noticing  the  insolence  of  the  speech.  The 
man  gradually  closed  the  door  upon  himself  till  he 
had  shut  it,  and  stood  outside,  facing  his  persistent 
visitor. 

"  In  town  or  out  of  town,"  he  said,  folding  his  arms 
upon  his  chest,  and  surveying  Vincent  with  all  the 
insolence  of  a  lackey  who  knows  he  has  to  deal  with 
a  man  debarred  by  public  opinion  from  the  gratifying 
privilege  of  knocking  him  down,  "there  ain't  no  more 
information  to  be  got  here." 

Such  was  the  conclusion  of  Vincent's  attempted 
investigation.  He  went  away  at  once,  scarcely  paus- 
ing to  hear  this  speech  out,  to  take  the  only  means 
that  presented  themselves  now  ;  and  going  into  the 
first  stationer's  shop  in  his  way,  wrote  a  note  entreat- 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  223 

ing  Mr  Fordham  to  meet  him,  and  giving  a  friend's 
address  in  London,  as  well  as  his  own  in  Carlingford, 
that  he  might  he  communicated  with  instantly.  When 
he  had  written  and  posted  this  note,  Vincent  pro- 
ceeded to  investigate  the  Directory  and  all  the  red 
and  blue  books  he  could  lay  his  hands  upon,  for  the 
name  of  Fordham.  It  was  not  a  plentiful  name,  but 
still  it  occurred  sufficiently  often  to  perplex  and  con- 
fuse him  utterly.  When  he  had  looked  over  the  list 
of  Fordhams  in  London,  sufficiently  long  to  give 
himself  an  intense  headache,  and  to  feel  his  under- 
taking entirely  hopeless,  he  came  to  a  standstill. 
What  was  to  be  done?  He  had  no  clue,  nor  the  hope 
of  any,  to  guide  him  through  this  labyrinth  ;  but  he 
had  no  longer  any  trust  in  the  honour  of  the  man 
whom  his  mother  had  so  rashly  received,  and  to 
whom  Susan  had  given  her  heart.  By  way  of  the 
only  precaution  which  occurred  to  him,  he  wrote  a 
short  note  to  Susan,  begging  her  not  to  send  any  more 
letters  to  Mr  Fordham  until  her  mother's  return  ;  and 
desiring  her  not  to  be  alarmed  by  this  prohibition, 
but  to  be  very  careful  of  herself,  and  wait  for  an 
explanation  when  Mrs  Vincent  should  return.  He 
thought  he  himself  would  accompany  his  mother 
home.  The  note  was  written,  as  Vincent  thought,  in 
the  most  guarded  terms  ;  but  in  reality  was  such  an 
abrupt,  alarming  performance,  as  was  sure  to  drive  a 


224        CHRONICLES  OF  CAULINGFORD  ! 

sensitive  girl  into  the  wildest  fright  and  uncertainty. 
Having  eased  his  conscience  by  this,  he  went  Lack  to 
the  railway,  and  returned  to  Carlingford.  Night  had 
fallen  before  he  reached  home.  Under  any  other 
circumstances,  he  would  have  encountered  his  mother 
after  such  an  ineffectual  enterprise,  conscious  as  he 
was  of  carrying  back  nothing  but  heightened  suspi- 
cion, with  very  uncomfortable  feelings,  and  would 
have  been  in  his  own  person  too  profoundly  concerned 
about  this  dreadful  danger  which  menaced  his  only 
sister,  to  be  able  to  rest  or  occupy  himself  about  other 
things.  But  the  fact  was,  that  whenever  he  relapsed 
into  the  solitary  carriage  in  which  he  travelled  to  Car- 
lingford, and  when  utterly  quiet  and  alone,  wrapped 
in  the  haze  of  din  and  smoke  and  speed  which  abstracts 
railway  travellers  from  all  the  world, — gave  himself 
up  to  thought,  the  rosy  hue  of  his  own  hopes  came 
stealing  over  him  unawares.  Now  and  then  he  woke 
up,  as  men  wake  up  from  a  doze,  and  made  a  passing 
.snatch  at  his  fears.  But  again  and  again  they  eluded 
his  grasp,  and  the  indefinite  brightness  which  had  no 
foundation  in  reason,  swallowed  up  everything  which 
interfered  with  its  power.  The  effect  of  this  was  to 
make  the  young  man  preternaturally  solemn  when  he 
entered  the  room  where  his  mother  awaited  him.  He 
felt  the  reality  of  the  fear  so  much  less  than  he  ought 
to  do,  that  it  was  necessary  to  put  on  twice  the  ap- 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  225 

pearance.  Had  he  really  been  as  deeply  anxious  and 
alarmed  as  he  should  have  been,  he  would  naturally 
have  tried  to  ease  and  lighten  the  burden  of  the  dis- 
covery to  his  mother  ;  feeling  it  so  hazily  as  he  did, 
no  such  precautions  occurred  to  him.  She  rose  up 
when  he  came  in,  with  a  face  which  gradually  paled 
out  of  all  its  colour  as  he  approached.  When  he  was 
near  enough  to  hold  out  his  hand  to  her,  Mrs  Vincent 
was  nearly  fainting.  "Arthur,"  she  cried,  in  a  scarcely 
audible  voice,  "  God  have  pity  upon  us  ;  it  is  true  : 
I  can  see  it  in  your  face." 

"  Mother,  compose  yourself.  I  have  no  evidence 
that  it  is  true.  I  have  discovered  nothing,"  cried 
Vincent,  in  alarm. 

The  widow  dropped  heavily  into  her  chair,  and 
sobbed  aloud  "  I  can  read  it  in  your  face,"  she  said. 
"  Oh!  my  dear  boy,  have  you  seen  that — that  villain? 
Does  he  confess  it?  Oh,  my  Susan,  my  Susan!  I  will 
never  forgive  myself;  I  have  killed  my  child." 

From  this  passion  it  was  difficult  to  recover  her, 
and  Vincent  had  to  represent  so  strongly  the  fact  that 
he  had  ascertained  nothing  certain,  and  that,  for  any- 
thing he  could  tell,  Fordham  might  still  prove  him- 
self innocent,  that  he  almost  persuaded  his  own  mind 
in  persuading  hers. 

"  His  letters  might  be  taken  in  at  a  place  where 

he  did  not  live,  for  convenience  sake,"  said  Vincent. 
vol.  i.  p 


226       0HBGNICLE8  OF  CARLIXGFORD  : 

"The  man  mighl  think  me  a  dun,  or  something  dis- 
agreeable. Fordham  liimself,  for  anything  aw  can 
tell,  may  be  very  angry  about  it.  Cheer  up,  mother . 
Iliings  are  no  worse  than  they  were  last  night.  I 
give  you  my  word  I  have  made  no  discovery,  and 
perhaps  to-morrow  may  bring  us  a  letter  clearing  it 
all  up." 

"Ah  !  Arthur,  you  are  so  young  and  hopeful.  It 
is  different  with  me,  who  have  seen  so  many  terrors 
come  true,"  said  the  mother,  who  notwithstanding  was 
comforted.  As  for  Vincent,  he  felt  neither  the 
danger  nor  the  suspense.  His  whole  soul  was  en- 
grossed with  the  fact  that  it  was  time  to  dress  ;  and 
it  was  with  a  little  conscious  sophistry  that  he  him- 
self made  the  best  of  it,  and  excused  himself  for  his 
indifference. 

"  I  can't  bear  to  leave  you,  mother,  in  such  sus- 
pense and  distress,"  he  said,  looking  at  his  watch ; 
"  but — I  have  to  be  at  Lady  Western's  at  half-past 
six." 

Mrs  Vincent  looked  up  with  an  expression  of  stulti- 
fied surprise  and  pain  for  a  moment,  then  brightened 
all  at  once.  "  My  dear,  I  have  laid  out  all  your 
things, "  she  said,  with  animation.  "Do  you  think  I 
would  let  you  miss  it,  Arthur?  Never  mind  talking 
to  me.  I  shall  hear  all  about  it  when  you  come 
home  to-night,     Now  go,  dear,  or  you  will  be  late. 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  227 

I  will  come  and  talk  to  you  when  you  are  dressing, 
if  you  don't  mind  your  mother  ?  Well,  perhaps  not. 
I  will  stay  here,  and  you  can  call  me  when  you  are 
ready,  and  I  will  bring  you  a  cup  of  tea.  I  am  sure 
you  are  tired,  what  with  the  fatigue  and  what  with 
the  anxiety.  But  you  must  try  to  put  it  off  your 
mind,  and  enjoy  yourself  to-night." 

"Yes,  mother,"  said  Vincent,  hastening  away;  the 
tears  were  in  her  gentle  eyes  when  she  gave  him 
that  unnecessary  advice.  She  pressed  his  hands  fast 
in  hers  when  he  left  her  at  last,  repeating  it,  afraid 
in  her  own  heart  that  this  trouble  had  spoilt  all  the 
brightness  of  the  opening  hopes  which  she  perceived 
with  so  much  pride  and  joy.  When  he  was  gone, 
she  sat  down  by  the  solitary  fire,  and  cried  over  her 
Susan  in  an  utter  forlornness  and  helplessness,  which 
only  a  woman,  so  gentle,  timid,  and  unable  to  struggle 
for  herself,  could  feeL  Her  son,  in  the  mean  time, 
walked  down  Grange  Lane,  first  with  a  momentary 
shame  at  his  own  want  of  feeling,  but  soon,  with  an 
entire  forgetrulness  both  of  the  shame  and  the  sub- 
ject of  it,  absorbed  in  thoughts  of  his  reception  there. 
With  a  palpitating  heart  he  entered  the  dark  gar- 
den, now  noiseless  and  chill  in  winterly  decay,  and 
gazed  at  the  lighted  windows  which  had  looked  like 
distant  planets  to  him  the  last  time  he  saw  them. 
He  lingered  looking  at  them,  now  that  the  moment 


228        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

approached  so  near.  A  remembrance  of  his  former 
disappointment  went  to  his  heart  with  a  momentary 
pang  as  he  hesitated  on  the  edge  of  his  present  happi- 
ness. Another  moment  and  he  had  thrown  himself 
again,  with  a  degree  of  suppressed  excitement  wonder- 
ful to  think  of,  upon  the  chances  of  his  fate. 

Not  alarming  chances,  so  far  as  could  be  predicated 
from  the  scene.  A  small  room,  the  smaller  half  of 
that  room  which  he  had  seen  full  of  the  pretty  crowd 
of  the  summer-party,  the  folding-doors  closed,  and  a 
curtain  drawn  across  them  ;  a  fire  burning  brightly  ; 
groups  of  candles  softly  lighting  the  room  in  clusters 
upon  the  wall,  and  throwing  a  colourless  soft  illu- 
mination upon  the  pictures  of  which  Lady  Western 
was  so  proud.  She  herself,  dropped  amid  billows  of 
dark  blue  silk  and  clouds  of  black  lace  in  a  low  easy- 
chair  by  the  side  of  the  fire,  smiled  at  Vincent,  and 
held  out  her  hand  to  him  without  rising,  with  a  sweet 
cordiality  and  friendliness  which  rapt  the  young  man 
into  paradise.  Though  Lucy  Wodehouse  was  scarcely 
less  pretty  than  the  young  Dowager,  Mr  Vincent  saw 
her  as  if  he  saw  her  not,  and  still  less  did  he  realise 
the  presence  of  Miss  Wodehouse,  who  was  the  shadow 
t  <  i  ;  1 1 1  tins  brightness.  He  took  the  chair  which  Lady 
Western  pointed  to  him  by  her  side.  He  did  not 
want  anybody  to  speak,  or  anything  to  happen.  The 
welcome  was  not  given  as  to  a  stranger,  but  made 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  229 

him  at  once  an  intimate  and  familiar  friend  of  the 
house.  At  once  all  his  dreams  were  realised.  The 
sweet  atmosphere  was  tinged  with  the  perfumy 
breath  which  always  surrounded  Her ;  the  room, 
which  was  so  fanciful  and  yet  so  home-like,  seemed 
a  reflection  of  her  to  his  bewildered  eyes  ;  and  the 
murmur  of  soft  sound,  as  these  two  lovely  creatures 
spoke  to  each  other,  made  the  most  delicious  climax 
to  the  scene ;  although  the  moment  before  he  had 
been  afraid  lest  the  sound  of  a  voice  should  break  the 
spell.  But  the  spell  was  not  to  be  broken  that  night 
Mr  Wentworth  came  in  a  few  minutes  after  him,  and 
was  received  with  equal  sweetness ;  but  still  the 
young  Nonconformist  was  not  jealous.  It  was  he 
whose  arm  Lady  Western  appropriated,  almost  with- 
out looking  at  him  as  she  did  so,  when  they  went  to 
dinner.  She  had  put  aside  the  forms  which  were  in- 
tended to  keep  the  outer  world  at  arm's  length.  It 
was  as  her  own  closest  personal  friends  that  the  little 
party  gathered  around  the  little  table,  just  large 
enough  for  them,  which  was  placed  before  the  fire  in 
the  great  dining-room.  Lady  Western  was  not  a 
brilliant  talker,  but  Mr  Vincent,  thought  her  smallest 
observation  more  precious  than  any  utterance  of 
genius.  He  listened  to  her  with  a  fervour  which  few 
people  showed  when  listening  to  him,  notwithstand- 
ing his  natural  eloquence  ;  but  as  to  what  he  himself 


230  CHRONICLES   OF    CARLINGFORD  : 

said  in  reply,  he  was  entirely  oblivious,  and  spoke 
like  a  man  in  a  dream.  When  she  clapped  her 
pretty  hands,  and  adjured  the  Churchman  and  the 
Nonconformist  to  light  out  their  quarrel,  it  was  well 
for  Vincent  that  Mr  Wentworth  declined  the  contro- 
versy. The  lecturer  on  Church  and  State  was  hors  de 
combat ;  he  was  in  charity  with  all  men.  The  curate 
of  St  Koque's,  who — blind  and  infatuated  man ! — 
thought  Lucy  Wodehouse  the  flower  of  Grange  Lane, 
did  not  come  in  his  way.  He  might  pity  him,  but  it 
was  a  sympathetic  pity.  Mr  Vincent  took  no  notice 
when  Miss  Wodehouse  launched  tiny  arrows  of  argu- 
ment at  him.  She  was  the  only  member  of  the 
party  who  seemed  to  recollect  his  heresies  in  respect 
to  Church  and  State — which,  indeed,  he  had  forgotten 
himself,  and  the  state  of  mind  which  led  to  them. 
No  such  world  existed  now  as  that  cold  and  lofty 
world  which  the  young  man  of  genius  had  seen 
glooming  down  upon  his  life,  and  shutting  jealous 
barriers  against  his  progress.  The  barriers  were 
opened,  the  coldness  gone — and  he  himself  raised 
high  on  the  sunshiny  heights,  wrhere  love  and  beauty 
had  their  perennial  abode.  He  had  gained  nothing 
— changed  in  nothing — from  his  former  condition : 
not  even  the  golden  gates  of  society  had  opened  to 
the  dissenting  minister ;  but  glorious  enfranchise- 
ment had  come  to  the  young  man's  heart.     It  was 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  231 

not  Lady  Western  who  had  asked  him  to  dinner — 
a  distinction  of  which  his  mother  was  proud.  It  was 
the  woman  of  all  women  who  had  brought  him  to  her 
side,  whose  sweet  eyes  were  sunning  him  over,  whose 
voice  thrilled  to  his  heart.  By  her  side  he  forgot  all 
social  distinctions,  and  all  the  stings  contained  in 
them.  No  prince  could  have  reached  more  com- 
pletely the  ideal  elevation  and  summit  of  youthful 
existence.  Ambition  and  its  successes  were  vulgar 
in  comparison.  It  was  a  poetic  triumph  amid  the 
prose  tumults  and  downfalls  of  life. 

When  the  two  young  men  were  left  over  their  wine, 
a  somewhat  grim  shadow  fell  upon  the  evening.  The 
curate  of  St  Eoque's  and  the  minister  of  Salem  found 
it  wonderfully  hard  to  get  up  a  conversation.  They 
discussed  the  advantages  of  retiring  with  the  ladies 
as  they  sat  glum  and  reserved  opposite  each  other — 
not  by  any  means  unlike,  and,  by  consequence,  na- 
tural enemies.  Mr  Wentworth  thought  it  an  admir- 
able plan,  much  more  sensible  than  the  absurd  custom 
which  kept  men  listening  to  a  parcel  of  old  fogies, 
who  retained  the  habits  of  the  last  generation ;  and 
he  proposed  that  they  should  join  the  ladies — a  pro- 
posal to  which  Vincent  gladly  acceded.  When  they 
returned  to  the  drawing-room,  Lucy  Wodehouse  was 
at  the  piano  ;  her  sister  sat  at  table  wdth  a  pattern- 
book  before  her,  doing  some  impossible  pattern  in 


232        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

knitting:  and  Lady  Western  again  sat  languid  and 
lovelv  by  the  fire,  with  her  beautiful  hands  in  her 
lap,  relieved  from  the  dark  background  of  the  billowy 
bine  dress  by  the  delicate  cambric  and  lace  of  her 
handkerchief.  She  was  not  doing  anything,  or  look- 
ing as  if  she  could  do  anything.  She  was  leaning 
back  in  the  low  chair,  with  the  rich  folds  of  her  dress 
sweeping  the  carpet,  and  her  beautiful  ungloved 
hands  lying  lightly  across  each  other.  She  did  not 
move  when  the  gentlemen  entered.  She  turned  her 
eyes  to  them,  and "  smiled  those  sweet  welcoming 
smiles,  which  Vincent  knew  well  enough  were  for 
both  alike,  yet  which  made  his  heart  thrill  and  beat. 
"Wentworth  (insensible  prig !)  went  to  Lucy's  side, 
and  began  to  talk  to  her  over  her  music,  now  and 
then  appealing  to  Miss  "Wodehouse.  Vincent,  whom 
no  man  hindered,  and  for  whose  happiness  all  the 
fates  had  conspired,  invited  by  those  smiling  eyes, 
approached  Lady  Western  with  the  surprised  delight 
of  a  man  miraculously  blessed.  He  could  not  under- 
stand why  he  was  permitted  to  be  so  happy.  He 
drew  a  chair  between  her  and  the  table,  and,  shutting 
out  the  other  group  by  turning  his  back  upon  them, 
had  her  all  to  himself.  She  never  changed  her  posi- 
tion, nor  disturbed  her  sweet  indolence,  by  the  least 
movement.  The  fire  blazed  no  longer.  The  candles, 
softly  burning  against  the  wall,  threw  no  very  bril- 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  233 

liant  light  upon  this  scene.  To  Vincent's  conscious- 
ness, bewildered  as  he  was  by  the  supreme  delight 
of  his  position,  they  were  but  two  in  a  new  world, 
and  neither  thing  nor  person  disturbed  the  unimagin- 
able bliss.  But  Miss  Wodehouse,  when  she  raised 
her  eyes  from  her  knitting,  only  saw  the  young  1  )ow- 
ager  leaning  back  in  her  chair,  smiling  the  natural 
smiles  of  her  sweet  temper  and  kind  heart  upon  the 
young  stranger  whom  she  had  chosen  to  make  a 
prot4g£  of.  Miss  Wodehouse  silently  concluded  that 
perhaps  it  might  be  dangerous  for  the  young  man, 
who  knew  no  better,  and  that  Lady  Western  always 
looked  well  in  a  blue  dress.  Such  was  the  outside 
world's  interpretation  of  that  triumphant  hour  of 
Vincent's  life. 

How  it  went  on  he  never  could  tell.  Soft  questions, 
spoken  in  that  voice  which  made  everything  eloquent, 
gently  drew  from  him  the  particulars  of  his  life  ;  and 
sweet  laughter,  more  musical  than  that  song  of  Lucy's 
to  which  the  curate  (dull  clod!)  gave  all  his  attention, 
rang  silvery  peals  over  the  name  of  Tozer  and  the 
economics  of  Salem.  Perhaps  Lady  Western  enjoyed 
the  conversation  almost  half  as  much  as  her  worship- 
per did.  She  was  amused,  most  delicate  and  difficult 
of  all  successes.  She  was  pleased  with  the  reveren- 
tial devotion  which  had  a  freshness  and  tender  humil- 
ity conjoined  with  sensitive  pride,  which  was  novel 


234       OHBONICLBS  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

to  her,  and  more  flattering  than  ordinary  adoration. 
When  he  saw  it  amused  her,  the  young  man  exerted 
himself  to  set  forth  his  miseries  with  their  ludi- 
crous element  fully  developed.  They  were  no  longer 
miseries,  they  were  happinesses  which  brought  him 
those  smiles.  He  said  twice  enough  to  turn  him  out 
of  Salem,  and  make  him  shunned  by  all  the  connec- 
tion. He  forgot  everything  in  life  but  the  lovely 
creature  beside  him,  and  the  means  by  which  he  could 
arouse  her  interest,  and  keep  her  ear  a  little  longer. 
Such  was  the  position  of  affairs,  when  Miss  Wode- 
house  came  to  the  plain  part  of  her  pattern,  where 
she  could  go  on  without  counting  ;  and  seeing  Lady 
Western  so  much  amused,  became  interested  and  set 
herself  to  listen  too.  By  this  time  Vincent  had  come 
to  more  private  concerns. 

"  I  have  been  inquiring  to-day  after  some  one  whom 
my  mother  knows,  and  whom  I  am  anxious  to  hear 
about,"  said  Vincent.  "  I  cannot  discover  anything 
about  him.  It  is  a  wild  question  to  ask  if  you  know 
him,  but  it  is  just  possible ;  there  are  such  curious 
encounters  in  life." 

"  What  is  his  name  ? "  said  Lady  Western,  with  a 
smile  as  radiant  as  a  sunbeam. 

"  His  name  is  Fordham — Herbert  Fordham :  I  do 
not  know  where  he  comes  from,  nor  whether  he  is  of 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  235 

any  profession ;  nor,  indeed,  anything  but  bis  name. 
I  bave  been  in  town  to-day " 

Here  Vincent  came  to  a  sudden  stop.  He  bad 
withdrawn  his  eyes  from  that  smile  of  hers  for  the 
moment.  When  he  raised  them  again,  the  beautiful 
picture  was  changed  as  if  by  magic.  Her  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  him  dilated  and  almost  wild.  Her  face 
was  deadly  pale.  Her  hands,  which  had  been  lying- 
lightly  crossed,  grasped  each  other  in  a  grasp  of  sud- 
den anguish  and  self-control.  He  stopped  short  with 
a  pang  too  bitter  and  strange  for  utterance.  At  that 
touch  all  his  fancies  dispersed  into  the  air.  He  came 
to  himself  strangely,  with  a  sense  of  chill  and  desola- 
tion. In  one  instant,  from  the  height  of  momentary 
bliss  down  to  the  miserable  flat  of  conscious  unim- 
portance. Such  a  downfall  was  too  much  for  man  to 
endure  without  showing  it.  He  stopped  short  at  the 
aspect  of  her  face. 

"  You  have  been  in  town  to-day  ? "  she  repeated, 
pointedly,  with  white  and  trembling  lips. 

"And  could  hear  nothing  of  him,"  said  Vincent, 
with  a  little  bitterness.  "  He  was  not  to  be  heard  of 
at  his  address." 

"Where  was  that?"  asked  Lady  Western  again, 
with  the  same  intent  and  anxious  gaze. 

Vincent,  who  was  sinking  down,  down  in  hopeless 


236        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

circles  of  jealousy,  miserable  fierce  rage  and  disap- 
pointment, answered,  "10  Nameless  Street,  Picca- 
ililK \"  without  an  unnecessary  word. 

Lady  Western  uttered  a  little  cry  of  excitement  and 
wonder.  She  knew  nothing  of  the  black  abyss  into 
which  her  companion  had  fallen  any  more  than  she 
knew  the  splendid  heights  to  which  her  favour  had 
raised  him  ;  but  the  sound  of  her  own  voice  recalled 
her  to  herself.  She  turned  away  from  Vincent  and 
pulled  the  bell  which  was  within  her  reach — pulled 
it  once  and  again  with  a  nervous  twitch,  and  entan- 
gled her  bracelet  in  the  bell-pull,  so  that  she  had  to 
bend  over  to  unfasten  it.  Vincent  sat  gloomily  by 
and  looked  on,  without  offering  any  assistance.  He 
knew  it  was  to  hide  her  troubled  face  and  gain  a 
moment  to  compose  herself;  but  he  was  scarcely  pre- 
pared for  her  total  avoidance  of  the  subject  when  she 
next  spoke. 

"  They  are  always  so  late  01  giving  us  tea,"  she  said, 
rising  from  her  chair,  and  going  up  to  Miss  Wode- 
house  :  "  I  can  see  you  have  finished  your  pattern  ;  let 
me  see  how  it  looks.  That  is  pretty  ;  but  I  think  it 
is  too  elaborate.  How  many  things  has  Mary  done 
for  this  bazaar,  Mr  Wentworth  ? — and  do  tell  us  when 
is  it  to  be?" 

What  did  Vincent  care  for  the  answer  ?  He  sat  dis- 
enchanted in  that  same  place  which  had  been  his 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  237 

bower  of  bliss  all  the  evening,  watching  her  as  she 
moved  about  the  room ;  her  beautiful  figure  went  and 
came  with  a  certain  restlessness,  surely  not  usual  to 
her,  from  one  corner  to  another.  She  brought  Miss 
Wodehouse  something  to  look  at  from  the  work-table, 
and  fetched  some  music  for  Lucy  from  a  window. 
She  had  the  tea  placed  in  a  remote  corner,  and  made 
it  there  ;  and  insisted  on  bringing  it  to  the  Miss 
Wodehouses  with  her  own  hands.  She  was  dis- 
turbed ;  her  sweet  composure  was  gone.  Vincent 
sat  and  watched  her  under  the  shade  of  his  hands, 
with  feelings  as  miserable  as  ever  moved  man.  It 
was  not  sorrow  for  having  disturbed  her ; — feelings 
much  more  personal,  mortification  and  disappoint- 
ment, and,  above  all,  jealousy,  raged  in  his  heart. 
Warmer  and  stronger  than  ever  was  his  interest  in 
Mr  Fordhani  now. 

After  a  miserable  interval,  he  rose  to  take  his 
leave.  When  he  came  up  to  her,  Lady  Western's 
kind  heart  once  more  awoke  in  his  behalf.  She 
drew  him  aside  after  a  momentary  struggle  with 
herself. 

"  I  know  that  gentleman,"  she  said,  quickly,  with 
a  momentary  flush  of  colour,  and  shortening  of  breath ; 
"  at  least  I  knew  him  once ;  and  the  address  you 
mention  is  my  brother's  address.  If  you  will  tell  me 
what  you  want  to  know,  I  will  ask  for  you.     My 


238  CHRONICLES   OF    CARLINGFORD  : 

brother  ami  he  used  not  to  be  friends,  but  I  Buppose 
.    What  did  you  want  to  know?" 

"  Only,"  said  Vincent,  with  involuntary  bitterness, 
"  if  In-  was  a  man  of  honour,  and  could  be  trusted  ; 
nothing  else." 

The  young  Dowager  paused  and  sighed  ;  her  beau- 
tiful eyes  softened  with  tears.  "  Oh,  yes — yes  ;  with 
life — to  death  ! "  she  said,  with  a  low  accompaniment 
of  sighing,  and  a  wistful,  melancholy  smile  upon  her 
lovely  face. 

Vincent  hastened  out  of  the  house.  He  ventured 
to  say  nothing  to  himself  as  he  went  up  Grange 
Lane  in  the  starless  night,  with  all  the  silence  and 
swiftness  of  passion.  He  dared  not  trust  himself  to 
think.  His  very  heart,  the  physical  organ  itself, 
seemed  throbbing  and  bursting  with  conscious  pain. 
Had  she  loved  this  mysterious  stranger  whose  unde- 
cipherable shadow  hung  over  the  minister's  path? 
To  Vincent's  fancy,  nothing  else  could  account  for 
her  agitation  ;  and  Mas  he  so  true,  and  to  be  trusted ? 
Poor  gentle  Susan,  whom  such  a  fate  and  doom  was 
approaching  as  might  have  softened  her  brother's 
heart,  had  but  little  place  in  his  thoughts.  He  was 
not  glad  of  that  favourable  verdict.  He  was  over- 
powered with  jealous  rage  and  passion.  Alas  for 
his  dreams !  Once  more,  what  downfall  and  over- 
throw had  come  of  it !  once  more  he  had  come  down 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  239 

to  his  own  position,  and  the  second  awakening  was 
harder  than  the  first.  When  he  got  home,  and  found 
his  mother,  affectionately  proud,  waiting  to  hear  all 
about  the  great  lady  he  had  been  visiting,  it  is  im- 
possible to  express  in  words  the  intolerable  impa- 
tience and  disgust  with  himself  and  his  fate  which 
overpowered  the  young  man.  He  had  a  bad  head- 
ache, Mrs  Vincent  said,  she  was  sure,  and  he  did  not 
contradict  her.  It  was  an  unspeakable  relief  to  him 
when  she  went  to  her  own  room,  and  delivered  him 
from  the  tender  scrutiny  of  her  eyes — those  eyes  full 
of  nothing  but  love,  which,  in  the  irritation  of  his 
spirit,  drove  him  desperate.  He  did  not  tell  her 
about  the  unexpected  discovery  he  had  made.  The 
very  name  of  Fordham  would  have  choked  him  that 
night. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 


The  next  morning  brought  no  letters  except  from 
Susan.  Fordham,  if  so  true  as  Lady  Western  called 
him,  was  not,  Vincent  thought  with  bitterness,  acting 
as  an  honourable  man  should  in  this  emergency.  But 
perhaps  he  might  come  to  Carlingford  in  the  course 
of  the  day,  to  see  Susan's  brother.  The  aspect  of  the 
young  minister  was  changed  when  he  made  his  ap- 
pearance at  the  breakfast  table.  Mrs  Vincent  made 
the  most  alarmed  inquiries  about  his  health,  but — 
stopped  abruptly  in  making  them  by  his  short  and 
ungracious  answer — came  to  a  dead  pause  ;  and  with 
a  pang  of  fright  and  mortification,  acknowledged  to 
herself  that  her  son  was  no  longer  her  boy,  whose 
entire  heart  she  knew,  but  a  man  with  a  life  and 
concerns  of  his  own,  possibly  not  patent  to  his  mother. 
That  breakfast  was  not  a  cheerful  meal.  There  had 
been  a  long  silence,  broken  only  by  those  anxious 
attentions   to   each   other's   personal   comfort,   with 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  241 

which  people  endeavour  to  smooth  down  the  embar- 
rassment of  an  intercourse  apparently  confidential, 
into  which  some  sudden  unexplainable  shadow  has 
fallen.  At  last  Vincent  got  up  from  the  table,  with 
a  little  outbreak  of  impatience. 

"  I  can't  eat  this  morning  ;  don't  ask  me.  Mother, 
get  your  bonnet  on,"  said  the  young  man  ;  "  we  must 
go  to  see  Mrs  Hilyard  to-day." 

"  Yes,  Arthur,"  said  Mrs  Vincent,  meekly  ;  she  had 
determined  not  to  see  Mrs  Hilyard,  of  whom  her 
gentle  respectability  was  suspicious  ;  but,  startled  by 
her  son's  looks,  and  by  the  evident  arrival  of  that 
period,  instinctively  perceived  by  most  women,  at 
which  a  man  snatches  the  reins  out  of  his  adviser's 
hand,  and  has  his  way,  the  alarmed  and  anxious 
mother  let  her  arms  fall,  and  gave  in  without  a 
struggle. 

"  The  fact  is,  I  heard  of  Mr  Fordham  last  night," 
said  Vincent,  walking  about  the  room,  lifting  up  and 
setting  down  again  abstractedly  the  things  on  the 
table.  "  Lady  Western  knows  him,  it  appears  ;  per- 
haps Mrs  Hilyard  does  too." 

"  Lady  Western  knows  him  ?  Oh,  Arthur,  tell  me 
— what  did  she  say  ?  "  cried  his  mother,  clasping  her 
hands. 

"She  said  he  could  be  trusted  —  with  life  —  to 

death,"  said  Vincent,  very  low,  with  an  inaudible 
vol.  i.  Q 


242       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

groan  in  his  heart     He  was  prepared  for  the  joy  and 

the  tears,  and  the  thanksgiving  with  which  his  word- 
were  received ;  hut  he  could  not  have  believed  how 
sharply  his  mother's  exclamation,  "  God  bless  my 
Susan  !  now  I  am  happy  about  her,  Arthur.  I  could 
be  content  to  die,"  would  go  to  his  heart.  Susan, 
yes ; — it  was  right  to  be  happy  about  her ;  and  as 
for  himself,  who  cared?  He  shut  up  Ins  heart  in 
that  bitterness  ;  but  it  filled  him  with  an  irritation 
and  restlessness  which  he  could  not  subdue. 

"  We  must  go  to-  Mrs  Hilyard  ;  probably  she  can 
tell  us  more,"  he  said,  abruptly  ;  "  and  there  is  her 
child  to  speak  of.  I  blame  myself,"  he  added,  with 
impatience,  "  for  not  telling  her  before.  Let  us  go 
now  directly — never  mind  ringing  the  bell ;  all  that 
can  be  done  when  we  are  out.  Dinner  ?  oh,  for  hea- 
ven's sake,  let  them  manage  that !  Where  is  your 
bonnet,  mother  ?  the  air  will  do  me  good  after  a  bad 
night." 

"Yes,  dear,"  said  Mrs  Vincent,  moved  by  this  last 
argument.  It  must  be  his  headache,  no  doubt,  she 
tried  to  persuade  herself.  Stimulated  by  the  sound 
of  his  footstep  in  the  next  room,  she  lost  very  little 
time  over  her  toilette.  Perhaps  the  chill  January  air, 
sharp  with  frost,  air  full  of  natural  exhilaration  and 
refreshment,  did  bring  a  certain  relief  to  the  young- 
Nonconformist's    aching  temples    and    exasperated 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  243 

temper.  It  was  with  difficulty  his  mother  kept  time 
with  his  long  strides,  as  he  hurried  her  along  the 
street,  not  leaving  her  time  to  look  at  Salem,  winch 
was  naturally  the  most  interesting  point  in  Carling- 
ford  to  the  minister's  mother.  Before  she  had  half 
prepared  herself  for  this  interview,  he  had  hurried 
her  up  the  narrow  bare  staircase  which  led  to  Mrs 
Hilyard's  lodgings.  On  the  landing,  with  the  door 
half  open,  stood  Lady  Western's  big  footman,  fully 
occupying  the  narrow  standing-ground,  and  shedding 
a  radiance  of  plush  over  the  whole  shabby  house. 
The  result  upon  Mrs  Vincent  was  an  immediate  in- 
crease of  comfort,  for  surely  the  woman  must  be 
respectable  to  whom  people  sent  messages  by  so 
grand  a  functionary.  The  sight  of  the  man  struck 
Vincent  like  another  pang.  She  had  sent  to  take 
counsel,  no  doubt,  on  the  evidently  unlooked-for  in- 
formation which  had  startled  her  so  last  night. 

"  Come  in,"  said  the  inhabitant  of  the  room.  She 
was  folding  a  note  for  which  the  footman  waited. 
Things  were  just  as  usual  in  that  shabby  place.  The 
coarse  stuff  at  which  she  had  been  working  lay  on 
the  table  beside  her.  Seeing  a  woman  with  Vincent, 
she  got  up  quickly,  and  turned  her  keen  eyes  upon 
the  new-comer.  The  timid  doubtful  mother,  the 
young  man,  somewhat  arbitrary  and  self-willed,  who 
had  brought  his  companion  there  against  her  will, 


244  CHRONICLES    OF    CARLINGFORD  : 

the  very  look,  half  fright,  half  suspicion,  which  Mrs 
Vincent  threw  round  the  room,  explained  matters  to 
this  quick  observer.  She  was  mistress  of  the  position 
;it  once. 

"  Take  this  to  Lady  Western,  John,"  said  Mrs 
Hilyard.  "  She  may  come  when  she  pleases — I  shall 
be  at  home  all  day  ;  but  tell  her  to  send  a  maid  next 
time,  for  you  are  much  too  magnificent  for  Back 
Grove  Street.  This  is  Mrs  Vincent,  I  know.  Your 
son  has  brought  you  to  see  me,  and  I  hope  you  have 
not  come  to  say  that  I  was  too  rash  in  asking  a 
Christian  kindness  from  this  young  man's  mother. 
If  he  had  not  behaved  like  a  paladin,  I  should  not 
have  ventured  upon  it ;  but  when  a  young  man 
conducts  himself  so,  I  think  his  mother  is  a  good 
woman.     You  have  taken  in  my  child?" 

She  had  taken  Mrs  Vincent  by  both  hands,  and 
placed  her  in  a  chair,  and  sat  down  beside  her.  The 
widow  had  not  a  word  to  say.  What  with  the  praise 
of  her  son,  which  was  music  to  her  ears — what  with 
the  confusion  of  her  own  position,  she  was  painfully 
embarrassed  and  at  a  loss,  and  anxiously  full  of  ex- 
planations. "  Susan  has,  I  have  no  doubt ;  but  I 
am  sorry  I  left  home  on  Wednesday  morning,  and 
we  did  not  know  then  they  were  expected  ;  but  we 
have  a  spare  room,  and  Susan,  I  don't  doubt " 

"  The  fact  is,  my  mother  had  left  home  before  they 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  245 

could  have  reached  Lonsdale,"  interposed  Vincent ; 
"  but  my  sister  would  take  care  of  them  equally  well. 
They  are  all  safe.  A  note  came  this  morning  an- 
nouncing their  arrival.  My  mother,"  said  the  young 
man,  hastily,  "  returns  almost  immediately.  It  will 
make  no  difference  to  the  strangers." 

"  I  am  sure  Susan  will  make  them  comfortable, 
and  the  beds  would  be  well  aired,"  said  Mrs  Vin- 
cent ;  "  but  I  had  sudden  occasion  to  leave  home, 
and  did  not  even  know  of  it  till  the  night  before. 
My  dear,"  she  said,  with  hesitation,  "  did  you  think 
Mrs  Hilyard  would  know  ?  I  brought  Susan's  note 
to  show  you,"  she  added,  laying  down  that  simple 
performance  in  which  Susan  announced  the  receipt 
of  Arthur's  letter,  and  the  subsequent  arrival  of  "  a 
governess-lady,  and  the  most  beautiful  girl  that  ever 
was  seen."  The  latter  part  of  Susan's  hurried  note, 
in  which  she  declared  this  beautiful  girl  to  be  "  very 
odd — a  sort  of  grown-up  baby,"  was  carefully  ab- 
stracted by  the  prudent  mother. 

The  strange  woman  before  them  took  up  the  note 
in  both  her  hands  and  drank  it  in,  with  an  almost 
trembling  eagerness.  She  seemed  to  read  over  the 
words  to  herself  again  and  again  with  moving  lips. 
Then  she  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief. 

"  Miss  Smith  is  the  model  of  a  governess-lady," 
she  said,  turning  with  a  composure  wonderfully  un- 


246        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLLNGFORD  ! 

like  that  eagerness  of  anxiety  to  Mrs  Vincent  again 
— "she  never  writes  but  on  her  day,  whatever  may 
happen;  and  yesterday  did  not  happen  to  be  her 
day.  Thank  you;  it  is  Christian  charity.  You  must 
not  be  any  loser  meantime,  and  we  must  arrange 
these  matters  before  you  go  away.  This  is  not  a 
very  imposing  habitation,"  she  said,  glancing  round 
with  a  movement  of  her  thin  mouth,  and  comic 
gleam  in  her  eye — "  but  that  makes  no  difference, 
so  far  as  they  are  concerned.  Mr  Vincent  knows 
more  about  me  than  he  has  any  right  to  know,"  con- 
tinued the  strange  woman,  turning  her  head  towards 
him  for  the  moment  with  an  amused  glance — "a 
man  takes  one  on  trust  sometimes,  but  a  woman 
must  alwaj's  explain  herself  to  a  woman  :  perhaps, 
Mi  Vincent,  you  will  leave  us  together  while  I  ex- 
plain my  circumstances  to  your  mother?" 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  it — it  is  not  necessary,"  said  Mrs 
Vincent,  half  alarmed ;  "  but,  Arthur,  you  were  to 
ask " 

"  What  were  you  to  ask  ?"  said  Mrs  Hilyard,  lay- 
ing her  hand  with  an  involuntary  movement  upon  a 
tiny  note  lying  open  on  the  table,  to  which  Vincent's 
eyes  had  already  wandered. 

"  The  fact  is,"  he  said,  following  her  hand  with  his 
eyes,  "  that  my  mother  came  up  to  inquire  about 
some  one  called  Fordham,  in  whom  she  is  interested. 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  247 

Lady  Western  knows  him,"  said  Vincent,  abruptly, 
looking  in  Mrs  Hilyard's  face. 

"  Lady  Western  knows  him.  You  perceive  that 
she  has  written  to  ask  me  about  him  this  morning. 
Yes,"  said  Mrs  Hilyard,  looking  at  the  young  man, 
not  without  a  shade  of  compassion.  "  You  are  quite 
right  in  your  conclusions  ;  poor  Alice  and  he  were  in 
love  with  each  other  before  she  married  Sir  Joseph. 
He  has  not  been  heard  of  for  a  long  time.  What  do 
you  want  to  know,  and  how  is  it  he  has  showed  him- 
self now?" 

"  It  is  for  Susan's  sake,"  cried  Mrs  Vincent,  inter- 
posing ;  "  oh,  Mrs  Hilyard,  you  will  feel  for  me  better 
than  any  one — my  only  daughter  !  I  got  an  anony- 
mous letter  the  night  before  I  left.  I  am  so  Hurried, 
I  almost  forget  what  night  it  was — Tuesday  night — 
which  arrived  when  my  dear  child  was  out.  I  never 
kept  anything  from  her  in  all  her  life,  and  to  con- 
ceal it  was  dreadful — and  how  we  got  through  that 
night " 

"  Mother,  the  details  are  surely  not  necessary  now," 
said  her  impatient  son.  "We  want  to  know  what 
are  this  man's  antecedents  and  his  character — that  is 
all,"  he  added,  with  irrestrainable  bitterness. 

Mrs  Hilyard  took  up  her  work,  and  pinned  the 
long  coarse  seam  to  her  knee.  "Mrs  Vincent  will 
tell  me  herself,"  she  said,  looking  straight  at  him 


248        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

with  her  amused  look.  Of  all  her  strange  peculi- 
arities, this  faculty  of  amusement  was  the  strangest. 
Intense  restrained  passion,  anxiety  of  the  most  des- 
perate kind,  a  wild  will  which  would  pause  at 
nothing,  all  blended  with  and  left  room  for  this  un- 
failing  perception  of  any  ludicrous  possibility.  Vin- 
cent got  up  hastily,  and,  going  to  the  window,  looked 
out  upon  the  dismal  prospect  of  Salem,  throwing  its 
shabby  shadow  upon  those  dreary  graves.  Instinc- 
tively he  looked  for  the  spot  where  that  conversation 
must  have  been  held  which  he  had  overheard  from 
the  vestry  window  ;  it  came  most  strongly  to  his 
mind  at  that  moment.  As  his  mother  went  through 
her  story,  how  Mr  Fordham  had  come  accidentally 
to  the  house — how  gradually  they  had  admitted  him 
to  their  friendship — how,  at  last,  Susan  and  he  had 
become  engaged  to  each  other — her  son  stood  at  the 
window,  following  in  his  mind  all  the  events  of  that 
evening,  which  looked  so  long  ago,  yet  was  only  two 
or  three  evenings  back.  He  recalled  to  himself  his 
rush  to  the  telegraph  office  ;  and  again,  with  a  sharp 
stir  of  opposition  and  enmity,  recalled,  clear  as  a 
picture,  the  railway-carriage  just  starting,  the  flash 
of  light  inside,  the  face  so  clearly  evident  against  the 
vacant  cushions.  What  had  he  to  do  with  that  face, 
with  its  eagle  outline  and  scanty  long  locks  ?  Some- 
how, in  the  meshes  of  fate  he  felt  himself  so  involved 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  249 

that  it  was  impossible  to  forget  this  man.  He  came 
and  took  his  seat  again  with  his  mind  full  of  that 
recollection.  The  story  had  come  to  a  pause,  and 
Mrs  Hilyard  sat  silent,  taking  in  with  her  keen  eyes 
every  particular  of  the  gentle  widow's  character,  evi- 
dently, as  Vincent  could  see,  following  her  conduct 
back  to  those  springs  of  gentle  but  imprudent  gene- 
rosity and  confidence  in  what  people  said  to  her,  from 
which  her  present  difficulties  sprang. 

"  And  you  admitted  him  first  ? "  said  Mrs  Hilyard, 

interrogatively,  "  because V    She  paused.    Mrs 

Vincent  became  embarrassed  and  nervous. 

"  It  was  very  foolish,  very  foolish,"  said  the  widow, 
wringing  her  hands ;  "  but  he  came  to  make  inquiries, 
you  know.  I  answered  him  civilly  the  first  time,  and 
he  came  again  and  again.  It  looked  so  natural.  He 
had  come  down  to  see  a  young  relation  at  school  in 
the  neighbourhood." 

Mrs  Hilyard  uttered  a  sudden  exclamation — very 
slight,  low,  scarcely  audible  ;  but  it  attracted  Vin- 
cent's attention.  He  could  see  that  her  thin  lips 
were  closed,  her  figure  slightly  erected,  a  sudden 
keen  gleam  of  interest  in  her  face.  "Did  he  find 
his  relation?"  she  asked,  in  a  voice  so  ringing  and 
distinct  that  the  young  minister  started,  and  sat 
upright,  bracing  himself  for  something  about  to  hap- 
pen.    It  did  not  flash  upon  him  yet  what  that  mean- 


250  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

ing  might  be  ;  but  his  pulses  leapt  with  a  prescient 
thrill  of  some  tempest  or  earthquake  about  to  fall. 

"  No;  he  never  could  find  her — it  did  not  turn  out 
to  be  our  Lonsdale,  I  think — what  is  the  matter?" 
cried  Mrs  Vincent ;  "  you  both  know  something  I 
don't  know — what  has  happened?  Arthur,  have  I 
said  anything  dreadful? — oh,  what  does  it  mean?" 

"  Describe  him  if  you  can,"  said  Mrs  Hilyard,  in 
a  tone  which,  sharp  and  calm,  tingled  through  the 
room  with  a  passionate  clearness  which  nothing  but 
extreme  excitement  could  give.  She  had  taken  Mrs 
Vincent's  hand,  and  held  it  tightly  with  a  certain 
compassionate  compulsion,  forcing  her  to  speak.  As 
for  Vincent,  the  horrible  suspicion  which  stole  upon 
him  unmanned  him  utterly.  He  had  sprung  to  his 
feet,  and  stood  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  his  mother's 
face  with  an  indescribable  horror  and  suspense.  It 
was  not  her  he  saw.  With  hot  eyes  that  blazed  in 
their  sockets,  he  was  fixing  the  gaze  of  desperation 
upon  a  picture  in  his  mind,  which  he  felt  but  too 
certain  would  correspond  with  the  faltering  words 
which  fell  from  her  lips.  Mrs  Vincent,  for  her  part, 
would  have,  thrown  herself  wildly  upon  him,  and  lost 
her  head  altogether  in  a  frightened  attempt  to  find 
out  what  this  sudden  commotion  meant,  had  she  not 
been  fixed  and  supported  by  that  strong  yet  gentle 
grasp  upon  her  hand.     "  Describe  him — take  time," 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  251 

said  her  strange  companion  again  —  not  looking  at 
her,  but  waiting  in  an  indescribable  calm  of  passion 
for  the  words  which  she  could  frame  in  her  mind 
before  they  were  said. 

"  Tall,"  said  the  widow's  faltering  alarmed  voice, 
falling  with  a  strange  uncertainty  through  the  intense 
stillness,  in  single  words,  with  gasps  between  ;  "  not 
— a  very  young  man — aquiline — with  a  sort  of  eagle- 
look — light  hair — long  and  thin,  and  as  fine  as  silk — 
very  light  in  his  beard,  so  that  it  scarcely  showed. 
Oh.  God  help  us  1  what  is  it?  what  is  it? — You  both 
know  whom  I  mean." 

Neither  of  them  spoke  ;  but  the  eyes  of  the  two 
met  in  a  single  look,  from  which  both  withdrew,  as 
if  the  communication  were  a  crime.  With  a  shud- 
der Vincent  approached  his  mother ;  and,  speechless 
though  he  Mas,  took  hold  of  her,  and  drew  her  to 
him  abruptly.  Was  it  murder  he  read  in  those  eyes, 
with  their  desperate  concentration  of  will  and  power  ? 
The  sight  of  them,  and  recollection  of  their  dreadful 
splendour,  drove  even  Susan  out  of  his  mind.  Susan, 
poor  gentle  soul! — what  if  she  broke  her  tender 
heart,  in  which  no  devils  lurked  ?  "  Mother,  come — 
come,"  he  said,  hoarsely,  raising  her  up  in  his  arm, 
ami  releasing  the  hand  which  the  extraordinary 
woman  beside  her  still  clasped  fast.  The  movement 
roused  Mrs  Hilvard  as  well  as  Mrs  Vincent.     She 


252       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

rose  up  promptly  from  the  side  of  the  visitor  who 
had  brought  her  such  news. 

"I  need  n.it  suggest  to  you  that  this  must  be  acted 
on  at  once,"  she  said  to  Vincent,  who,  in  his  agitation, 
saw  how  the  hand,  with  which  she  leant  on  the  table, 
clenched  hard  till  it  grew  white  with  the  pressure. 
"  The  man  we  have  to  deal  with  spares  nothing." 
She  stopped,  and  then,  with  an  effort,  went  up  to  the 
half-fainting  mother,  who  hung  upon  Vincent's  arm, 
and  took  her  hands  and  pressed  them  close.  "  We 
have  both  thrust  our  children  into  the  lion's  mouth," 
she  cried,  with  a  momentary  softening.  "  Go,  poor 
woman,  and  save  your  child  if  you  can,  and  so  will  I 
— we  are  companions  in  misfortune.  And  you  are  a 
priest,  why  cannot  you  curse  him?"  she  exclaimed, 
with  a  bitter  cry.  The  next  moment  she  had  taken 
down  a  travelling-bag  from  a  shelf,  and,  kneeling 
down  by  a  trunk,  began  to  transfer  some  things  to 
it.  Vincent  left  his  mother,  and  went  up  to  her  with 
a  sudden  impulse,  "  I  am  a  priest,  let  me  bless  you," 
said  the  young  man,  touching  with  a  compassionate 
hand  the  dark  head  bending  before  him.  Then  he 
took  his  mother  away.  He  could  not  speak  as  he 
supported  her  down-stairs  ;  she,  clinging  to  him  with 
double  weakness,  could  scarcely  support  herself  at 
all  in  her  agitation  and  wonder  when  they  got  into 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  253 

the  street.      She  kept  looking  in   his  face  'with,  a 
pitiful  appeal  that  went  to  his  heart. 

"  Tell  me,  Arthur,  tell  me ! "  She  sobbed  it  out 
unawares,  and  over  and  over  before  he  knew  what 
she  was  saying.  And  what  could  he  tell  her  ?  "  We 
must  go  to  Susan — poor  Susan ! "  was  all  the  young 
man  could  say. 


CHAPTER    XV. 


Mrs  Vincent  came  to  a  dead  stop  as  they  passed  the 
doors  of  Salem,  which  were  ajar,  taking  resolution 
in  the  desperateness  of  her  uncertainty — for  the  feel- 
ings in  the  widow's  mind  were  not  confined  to  one 
burning  impulse  of  terror  for  Susan,  but  complicated 
by  a  wonderful  amount  of  flying  anxieties  about  other 
matters  as  well.  She  knew,  by  many  teachings  of 
experience,  what  would  be  said  by  all  the  connection, 
when  it  was  known  that  the  minister's  mother  had 
been  in  Carlingford  without  going  to  see  anybody — 
not  even  Mrs  Tufton,  the  late  minister's  wife,  or  Mrs 
Tozer,  who  was  so  close  at  hand.  Though  her  heart 
was  racked,  Mrs  Vincent  knew  her  duty.  She  stop- 
ped short  in  her  fright  and  distress  with  the  mild  ob- 
duracy of  which  she  was  capable.  Before  rushing  away 
out  of  Carlingford  to  protect  her  daughter,  the  mother, 
notwithstanding  her  anxiety,  could  not  forget  the  in- 
jury which  she  might  possibly  do  by  this  means  to 
the  credit  of  her  son. 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  255 

"  Arthur,  the  chapel  is  open — I  should  like  to  go 
in  and  rest,"  she  said,  with  a  little  gasp ;  "  and  oh, 
my  dear  boy,  take  a  little  pity  upon  me !  To  see  the 
state  you  are  in,  and  not  to  know  anything,  is  dread- 
ful. You  must  have  a  vestry,  where  one  could  sit 
down  a  little — let  us  go  in." 

"  A  vestry — yes  ;  it  will  be  a  fit  place,"  cried  Vin- 
cent, scarcely  knowing  what  he  was  saying,  and 
indeed  worn  out  with  the  violence  of  his  own  emo- 
tions. This  little  persistent  pause  of  the  widow,  who 
was  not  absorbed  by  any  one  passionate  feeling,  but 
took  all  the  common  cares  of  life  with  her  into  her 
severest  trouble,  awoke  the  young  man  to  himself. 
He,  too,  recollected  that  this  enemy  who  had  stolen 
into  his  house  was  not  to  be  reached  by  one  wild  rush, 
and  that  everything  could  not  be  suffered  to  plunge 
after  Susan's  happiness  into  an  indiscriminate  gulf  of 
ruin.  All  his  own  duties  pricked  at  his  heart  with 
bitter  reminders  in  that  moment  when  he  stood  by 
the  door  of  Salem,  where  two  poor  women  were  busy 
inside,  with  pails  and  brushes,  preparing  for  Sunday. 
The  minister,  too,  had  to  prepare  for  Sunday.  He 
could  not  dart  forth,  breathing  fire  and  flame  at  a 
moment's  notice,  upon  the  serpent  who  had  entered 
his  Eden.  Even  at  this  dreadful  moment,  in  all  the 
fever  of  such  a  discovery,  the  touch  of  his  mother's 
hand  upon  his  arm  brought  him  back  to  his  lot.     He 


'256        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  ! 

pushed  open  the  mean  door,  and  led  her  into  the 
scene  of  his  weekly  labours  with  a  certain  sickening 
disgust  in  his  heart  which  would  have  appalled  his 
companion.  She  was  a  dutiful  woman,  subdued  by 
long  experience  of  that  inevitable  necessity  against 
which  all  resistance  fails  ;  and  he  a  passionate  young 
man,  naturally  a  rebel  against  every  such  bond. 
They  could  not  understand  each  other ;  but  the 
mother's  troubled  face,  all  conscious  of  Tufton  and 
Tozer,  and  what  the  connection  would  say,  brought 
all  the  weight  of  his  own  particular  burden  back 
upon  Vincent's  mind.  He  pushed  in  past  the  pails 
with  a  certain  impatience  which  grieved  Mrs  Vin- 
cent. She  followed  him  with  a  pained  and  disap- 
proving look,  nodding,  with  a  faint  little  smile,  to 
the  women,  who  no  doubt  were  members  of  the 
flock,  and  might  spread  an  evil  report  of  the  pastor, 
who  took  no  notice  of  them.  As  she  followed  him 
to  the  vestry,  she  could  not  help  thinking,  with  a 
certain  strange  mixture  of  pain,  vexation,  and  tender 
pride,  how  different  his  dear  father  would  have  been. 
"  But  Arthur,  dear  boy,  has  my  quick  temper,"  sighed 
the  troubled  woman.  After  all,  it  was  her  fault  rather 
than  her  son's. 

"This  is  a  very  nice  room,"  said  Mrs  Vincent, 
sitting  down  with  an  air  of  relief ;  "  but  I  think  it 
would  be  better  to  close  the  window,  as  there  is  no 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  257 

fire.  You  were  always  very  susceptible  to  cold, 
Arthur,  from  a  child.  And  now,  my ,  dear  boy,  we 
are  undisturbed,  and  out  of  those  dreadful  glaring 
streets  where  everybody  knows  you.  I  have  not 
troubled  you,  Arthur,  for  I  saw  you  were  very  much 
troubled  ;  but,  oh  !  don't  keep  me  anxious  now." 

"  Keep  you  anxious  !  You  ask  me  to  make  you 
anxious  beyond  anything  you  can  think  of,"  said  the 
young  man,  closing  the  window  with  a  hasty  and 
fierce  impatience,  which  she  could  not  understand. 
"  Good  heavens,  mother  !  why  did  you  let  that  man 
into  your  innocent  house  ? " 

"  Who  is  he,  Arthur  ? "  asked  Mrs  Vincent,  with  a 
blanched  face. 

"  He  is "   Vincent  stopped  with  his  hand  upon 

the  window  where  he  had  overheard  that  conversa- 
tion, a  certain  awe  coming  over  him.  Even  Susan 
went  out  of  his  mind  when  he  thought  of  the  dread- 
ful calmness  with  which  his  strange  acquaintance 
had  promised  to  kill  her  companion  of  that  night. 
Had  she  started  already  on  this  mission  of  vengeance? 
A  cold  thrill  came  over  him  where  he  stood.  "  I 
can't  tell  who  he  is,"  he  exclaimed,  abruptly,  throw- 
ing himself  down  upon  the  little  sofa ;  "  but  it  was 
to  be  in  safety  from  him  that  Mrs  Hilyard  sent  her 
daughter  to  Lonsdale.     It  was  he  whom  she  vowed 

to  kill  if  he  found  the  child.     Ah  ! — he  is,"  cried  the 
VOL.  i.  R 


258        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  ! 

young  man,  springing  to  Lis  feet  again  with  a  sudden 

pang  and  smothered  exclamation  as  the  truth  dawned 
upon  him,  "  Lady  Western's  brother.  "What  other 
worse  tiling  he  is  I  cannot  tell.  Ruin,  misery,  and 
horror  at  the  least — death  to  Susan — not  much  less 
to  me." 

"  To  you  ?  Oh,  Arthur,  have  pity  upon  me,  my 
heart  is  breaking,"  said  Mrs  Vincent.  "  Oh,  my  boy, 
my  boy,  whom  I  would  die  to  save  from  any  trouble ! 
don't  tell  me  I  have  destroyed  you.  That  cannot  be, 
Arthur — that  cannot  be  !  " 

The  poor  minister  did  not  say  anything — his  heart 
was  bitter  within  him.  He  paced  up  and  down  the 
vestry  with  dreadful  thoughts.  What  was  She  to 
him  if  she  had  a  hundred  brothers  ?  Nothing  in  the 
world  could  raise  the  young  Nonconformist  to  that 
sweet  height  which  she  made  beautiful  ;  and  far  be- 
yond that  difference  came  the  cruel  recollection  of 
those  smiles  and  tears — pathetic,  involuntary  confes- 
sions. If  there  was  another  man  in  the  world  -whom 
she  could  trust  "  with  life — to  death  !  "  what  did  it 
matter  though  a  thousand  frightful  combinations 
involved  poor  Vincent  with  her  kindred?  He  tried 
to  remind  himself  of  all  this,  but  did  not  succeed. 
In  the  mean  time,  the  fact  glared  upon  him  that  it 
was  her  brother  who  had  aimed  this  deadly  blow  at 
the  honour  and  peace  of  his  own  humble  house ;  and 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  259 

his  heart  grew  sad  with  the  thought  that,  however 
indifferent  she  might  be  to  him,  however  unattain- 
able, here  was  a  distinct  obstacle  which  must  cut  off 
all  that  bewildering  tantalising  intercourse  which 
at  present  was  still  possible,  notwithstanding  every 
other  hindrance.  He  thought  of  this,  and  not  of 
Susan,  as  the  floor  of  the  little  vestry  thrilled  under 
his  feet.  He  was  bitter,  aggrieved,  indignant.  His 
troubled  mother,  who  sat  by  there,  half  afraid  to  cry, 
watching  him  with  frightened,  anxious,  uncompre- 
hending eyes,  had  done  him  a  sharp  and  personal 
injury.  She  could  not  fancy  how  it  was,  nor  what 
she  could  have  done.  She  followed  him  with  mild 
tearful  glances,  waiting  with  a  woman's  compelled 
patience  till  he  should  come  to  himself,  and  revolving 
thoughts  of  Salem,  and  supply  for  the  pulpit  there, 
with  an  anxious  pertinacity.  But  in  her  way  Mrs 
Vincent  was  a  wise  woman.  She  did  not  speak — she 
let  him  wear  himself  out  first  in  that  sudden  appre- 
hension of  the  misfortune  personal  to  himself,  which 
was  at  the  moment  so  much  more  poignant  and  bitter 
than  any  other  dread.  "When  he  had  subsided  a 
little — and  first  of  all  he  threw  up  the  window, 
leaning  out,  to  his  mother's  great  vexation,  with  a 
total  disregard  of  the  draught,  and  receiving  the  chill 
of  the  January  breeze  upon  his  heated  brow — she  ven- 
tured to  say,  gently,  "  Arthur,  what  are  we  to  do  ? " 


260       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

•'  To  go  to  Lonsdale,"  said  Vincent.  "  When  we 
came  in  here,  I  thought  we  could  rush  off  directly; 
but  these  women  outside  there,  and  this  place,  remind 

me  that  I  am  not  a  free  man,  -who  can  go  at  once 
;uid  do  his  duty.  I  am  in  fetters  to  Salem,  mother. 
Eeaven  knows  when  I  may  be  able  to  get  away. 
Sunday  must  be  provided  for  first.  No  natural 
immediate  action  is  possible  to  me." 

"  Hush,  Arthur  dear — oh,  hush !  Your  duty  to 
your  flock  is  above  your  duty  even  to  your  sister," 
said  the  widow,  with  a  tremulous  voice,  timid  of  say- 
ing anything  to  him  whose  mood  she  could  not  com- 
prehend. "  You  must  find  out  when  the  first  train 
stmts,  and  I  will  go.  I  have  been  very  foolish," 
Paltered  the  poor  mother,  "as  you  say,  Arthur  ;  but 
if  my  poor  child  is  to  bear  such  a  dreadful  blow,  I 
am  the  only  one  to  take  care  of  her.  Susan  " — here 
she  made  a  pause,  her  lip  trembled,  and  she  had  all 
but  broken  into  tears — "  will  not  upbraid  me,  dear. 
You  must  not  neglect  your  duty,  whatever  happens  ; 
and  now  let  us  go  and  inquire  about  the  train, 
Arthur,  and  you  can  come  on  Monday,  after  your 
work  is  over  ;  and,  oh  !  my  dear  boy,  we  must  not 
repine,  but  accept  the  arrangements  of  Providence. 
It  was  what  your  dear  father  always  said  to  his 
dying  day." 

Her  face  all  trembling  and  pale,  her  eyes  full  of 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  261 

tears  which  were  not  shed,  her  tender  humility, 
which  never  attempted  a  defence,  and  those  motherly, 
tremulous,  wistful  advices  which  it  now  for  the  first 
time  dawned  upon  Mrs  Vincent  her  son  was  not 
certain  to  take,  moved  the  young  Nonconformist  out 
of  his  personal  vexation  and  misery. 

"This  will  not  do,"  he  said.  "I  must  go  with 
you  ;  and  we  must  go  directly.  Susan  may  be  less 
patient,  less  believing,  less  ready  to  take  our  word 
for  it,  than  you  imagine,  mother.  Come  ;  if  there  is 
anybody  to  be  got  to  do  this  preaching,  the  thing 
will  be  easy.  Tozer  will  help  me,  perhaps.  We  will 
waste  no  more  time  here." 

"I  am  quite  rested,  Arthur  dear,"  said  Mrs  Vin- 
cent;  "and  it  will  be  right  for  me  to  call  at  Mrs 
Tozer's  too.  1  wish  I  could  have  gone  to  Mrs  Tuf- 
ton's,  and  perhaps  some  others  of  your  people.  But 
you  must  tell  them,  dear,  that  I  was  very  hurried — 
and — and  not  very  well  ;  and  that  it  was  family 
business  that  brought  me  here." 

"I  do  not  see  they  have  any  business  with  the 
matter,"  said  the  rebellious  minister. 

"  My  dear,  it  will  of  course  be  known  that  1  was 
in  Carlingford  ;  and  I  know  how  things  are  spoken 
of  in  a  flock,"  said  Mrs  Vincent,  rising  ;  "  but  you 
must  tell  them  all  I  wanted  to  come,  and  could  not 
— which,  indeed,  will  be  quite  true.      A  minister's 


262       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  ! 

family  ought  to  be  very  careful,  Arthur,"  added  the 
much-experienced  woman.  "I  know  how  little  a 
thing  makes  mischief  in  a  congregation.     Perhaps, 

mi  ilif  whole,  I  ought  not  to  call  at  Mrs  Tozer's,  as 
there  is  no  time  to  go  elsewhere.  But  still  I  should 
like  to  do  it.  One  good  friend  is  often  everything  to 
a  young  pastor.  And,  my  dear,  you  should  just  say 
a  word  in  passing  to  the  women  outside." 

"By  way  of  improving  the  occasion?"  said  Yin- 
cent,  with  a  little  scorn.  "  Mother,  don't  torture 
yourself  about  me.  I  shall  get  on  very  well ;  and 
we  have  plenty  on  our  hands  just  now  without  think- 
ing of  Salem.  Come,  come  ;  with  this  horrible  cloud 
overhanging  Susan,  how  can  you  spare  a  thought  for 
such  trifles  as  these  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Arthur,  my  dear  boy,  must  not  we  keep  you 
right  ? "  said  his  mother  ;  "  are  not  you  our  only 
hope  ?  If  this  dreadful  news  you  tell  me  is  true,  my 
child  will  break  her  heart,  and  I  will  be  the  cause  of 
it ;  and  Susan  has  no  protector  or  guardian,  Arthur 
dear,  that  can  take  care  of  her,  but  you." 

"Wiping  her  eyes,  and  walking  with  a  feeble  step, 
Mrs  Vincent  followed  her  son  out  of  Salem  ;  but  she 
looked  up  with  gentle  interest  to  his  pulpit  as  she 
passed,  and  said  it  was  a  cold  day  to  the  cleaners, 
with  anxious  carefulness.  She  was  not  carried  away 
from  her  palpable   standing -ground    by  any  wild 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  263 

tempest  of  anxiety.  Susan,  whose  heart  would  be 
broken  by  this  blow,  was  her  mother's  special  object 
in  life  ;  but  the  thought  of  that  coming  sorrow  which 
was  to  crush  the  girl's  heart,  made  Mrs  Vincent  only 
the  more  anxiously  concerned  to  conciliate  and  please 
everybody  whose  influence  could  be  of  any  import- 
ance to  her  son. 

So  they  came  out  into  the  street  together,  and  went 
on  to  Tozer's  shop.  She,  tremulous,  watchful,  noting 
everything  ;  now  lost  in  thought  as  to  how  the  dread- 
ful truth  was  to  be  broken  to  Susan  ;  now  in  anxious 
plans  for  impressing  upon  Arthur  the  necessity  of 
considering  his  people — he,  stinging  with  personal 
wounds  and  bitterness,  much  more  deeply  alarmed 
than  his  mother,  and  burning  with  consciousness  of 
all  the  complications  which  she  was  totally  ignorant 
of.  Fury  against  the  villain  himself,  bitter  vexation 
that  he  was  Lady  Western's  brother,  anger  at  his 
mother  for  admitting,  at  Susan  for  giving  him  her 
heart,  at  Mrs  Hilvard  for  he  could  not  tell  what, 
because  she  had  added  a  climax  to  all,  burned  in 
Vincent's  mind  as  he  went  on  to  George  Street  with 
Iris  mother  leaning  on  his  arm,  who  asked  him  after 
every  wayfarer  who  passed  them,  Who  was  that  ?  It 
was  not  wonderful  that  the  young  man  gradually 
grew  into  a  fever  of  excitement  and  restless  misery. 
Everything  conspired  to  exasperate  him,- — even  the 


264        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

fact  that  Sunday  came  so  near,  and  could  not  be 
escaped.  The  whirl  of  his  brain  came  to  a  climax 
when  Lady  Western's  carriage  drove  past,  and  through 
the  mist  of  his  wretchedness  he  saw  the  smile  and 
the  beautiful  hand  waved  to  him  in  sweet  recognition. 
Oh  heaven  !  to  bring  tears  to  those  eyes,  or  a  pang  to 
1 1  i;it  heart ! — to  have  her  turn  from  him  shuddering 
01  pass  him  with  cold  looks,  because  her  brother  was 
a  villain,  and  he  the  avenger  of  that  crime  !  His 
mother,  almost  running  to  keep  up  with  his  uncon- 
sciously quickened  pace,  cast  pitiful  looks  at  him, 
impairing  what  it  was.  The  poor  young  fellow  could 
not  have  told  even  if  he  would.  It  was  a  combina- 
tion of  miseries,  sharply  stimulated  to  the  intolerable 
point  by  the  mission  on  which  he  had  now  to  enter 
Tozer's  shop. 

"  We  heard  you  was  come,  ma'am,"  said  Tozer,  gra- 
ciously, "  and  in  course  was  looking  for  a  call.  I 
hope  you  are  going  to  stay  awhile  and  help  us  take 
care  of  the  pastor.  He  don't  take  that  care  of  him- 
self as  his  friends  would  wish,"  said  the  butterman. 
"  Mr  Vincent,  sir,  I've  a  deal  to  say  to  you  when 
you're  at  leisure.  Old  Mr  Tufton,  he  has  a  deal  to 
say  to  you.  We  are  as  anxious  as  ever  we  can  be, 
us  as  are  old  stagers,  to  keep  the  minister  straight, 
ma'am.  He's  but  a  young  man,  and  he's  come  into 
a  deal  of  popidarity,  and  any  one  more  thought  on 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  265 

in  our  connection,  I  don't  know  as  I  would  wish  to 
see ;  but  it  wouldn't  do  to  let  him  have  his  head 
turned.  Them  lectures  on  Church  and  State  couldn't 
but  be  remarked,  being  delivered,  as  you  may  say,  in 
the  world,  all  on  us  making  a  sacrifice  to  do  our  duty 
by  our  fellow-creaturs,  seein'  what  we  had  in  our 
power.  But  man  is  but  mortal ;  and  us  Salem  folks 
don't  like  to  see  no  signs  of  that  weakness  in  a  pastor ; 
it's  our  duty  to  see  as  his  head's  not  turned." 

"  Indeed,  I  trust  there  is  very  little  fear  of  that," 
said  Mrs  Vincent,  roused,  and  set  on  the  defensive. 
"  My  dear  boy  has  been  used  to  be  appreciated,  and 
to  have  people  round  him  who  could  understand  him. 
As  for  having  his  head  turned,  that  might  happen  to 
a  man  who  did  not  know  what  intelligent  approba- 
tion was  ;  but  after  doing  so  well  as  he  did  at  col- 
lege, and  having  his  dear  father's  approval,  I  must 
say  I  don't  see  any  cause  to  apprehend  iJiat,  Mr 
Tozer.  I  am  not  surprised  at  all,  for  my  part, — I 
always  knew  what  my  Arthur  could  do." 

"  No  more  of  this,"  said  Vincent,  impatiently. 
"  Look  here,  I  have  come  on  a  special  business.  Can 
any  one  be  got,  do  you  think,  to  preach  on  Sunday  ? 
I  must  go  home  with  my  mother  to-day." 

"  To-day  !  "  Tozer  opened  his  eyes,  with  a  blank 
stare,  as  he  slowly  took  off  his  apron.  "  You  was 
intimated  to  begin  that  course  on  the  Miracles,  Mr 


266       OHEONICLES  OF  CAKLIXGFORD  : 

Vincent,  if  you'll  excuse  me,  on  Sunday.  Salem 
folks  is  a  little  sharp,  I  don't  deny.  It  would  be  a 
great  disappointment,  and  I  can't  say  I  think  as  it 
would  be  took  well  if  you  was  to  go  away." 

"  I  can't  help  that,"  said  the  unfortunate  minister, 
to  whom  opposition  at  this  moment  was  doubly  in- 
tolerable. "  The  Salem  people,  I  presume,  will  hear 
reason.     My  mother  has  come  upon " 

"  Family  business,"  interrupted  Mrs  Vincent,  with 
the  deepest  trembling  anxiety.  "  Arthur  dear,  let 
me  explain  it,  for  you  are  too  susceptible.  My  son 
is  all  the  comfort  we  have  in  the  world,  Mr  Tozer," 
said  the  anxious  widow.  "  I  ought  not  to  have  told 
him  how  much  his  sister  wanted  him,  but  I  was  rash, 
and  did  so  ;  and  now  I  ought  to  bear  the  penalty.  I 
have  made  him  anxious  about  Susan  ;  but,  Arthur 
dear,  never  mind  ;  you  must  let  me  go  by  myself, 
and  on  Monday  you  can  come.  Your  dear  father 
always  said  his  flock  was  his  first  duty,  and  if  Sunday 
is  a  special  day,  as  Mr  Tozer  says " 

"  Oh,  Pa,  is  it  Mrs  Vincent  %  and  you  keep  her  in 
the  shop,  when  we  are  all  as  anxious  as  ever  we  can 
be  to  see  her,"  said  Phcebe,  who  suddenly  came  upon 
the  scene.  "  Oh,  please  to  come  up-stairs  to  the 
drawing-room.  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  !  and  it 
was  so  Unkind  of  Mr  Vincent  not  to  let  us  know  you 
were  coming.     Mamma  wanted  to  ask  you  to  come 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  267 

here,  for  she  thought  it  would  be  more  comfortable 
than  a  bachelor's  rooms ;  and  we  did  think  the 
minister  would  have  told  us,"  said  Phoebe,  with  re- 
proachful looks  ;  "  but  now  that  you  have  come  back 
again,  after  such  a  long  time,  please,  Mr  Vincent,  let 
your  mother  come  up-stairs.  They  say  you  don't 
think  us  good  enough  to  be  trusted  now  ;  but  oh,  I 
don't  think  you  could  ever  be  like  that !  "  continued 
Phoebe,  pausing  by  the  door  as  she  ushered  Mrs  Yin- 
cent  into  the  drawing-room,  and  giving  the  minister 
an  appealing  remonstrative  glance  before  she  dropped 
her  eyelids  in  virginal  humility.  Poor  Vincent 
paused  too,  disgusted  and  angry,  but  with  a  certain 
confusion.  To  fling  out  of  the  house,  dash  off  to  his 
rooms,  make  his  hasty  preparations  for  the  jour- 
ney, was  the  impulse  which  possessed  him  ;  but  his 
mother  was  looking  back  witli  wistful  curiosity,  won- 
dering what  the  two  could  mean  by  pausing  behind 
her  at  the  door. 

"  I  am  exactly  as  I  was  the  last  time  I  saw  you, 
which  was  on  Tuesday,"  he  said,  with  some  indigna- 
tion. "  I  will  follow  you,  please.  My  mother  has 
no  time  to  spare,  as  she  leaves  to-day — can  Mrs 
Tozer  see  her  ?  She  has  been  agitated  and  worn  out, 
and  we  have  not  really  a  moment  to  spare." 

"  Appearingly  not — not  for  your  own  friends,  Mr 
Vincent,"  said  Mrs  Tozer,  who  now  presented  herself. 


2G8       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

"  I  hope  I  see  you  well,  ma'am,  and  proud  to  see  you 
in  my  house,  though  I  will  say  the  minister  don't 
show  himself  not  so  kind  as  was  to  be  wished. 
Phoebe,  don't  put  on  none  o'  your  pleading  looks — 
for  shame  of  yourself,  Miss!  If  Mr  Vincent  has 
them  in  ( 'axlingford  as  he  likes  better  than  any  in  his 
own  flock,  it  ain't  no  concern  of  ours.  It's  a  thin- 
well  known  as  the  Salem  folks  are  all  in  trade,  and 
don't  drive  their  carriages,  nor  give  themselves  up  to 
this  world  and  vanity.  I  never  saw  no  good  come, 
for  my  part,  of  folks  sacrificing  theirselves  and  their 
good  money  as  Tozer  and  the  rest  set  their  hearts  on, 
with  that  Music  Hall  and  them  advertisings  and 
things — not  as  I  was  meaning  to  upbraid  you,  Mr 
Vincent,  particular  not  before  your  mother,  as  is  a 
stranger — but  we  was  a  deal  comfortabler  before  them 
lectures  and  things,  and  taking  off  your  attention 
from  your  own  flock." 

Before  this  speech  was  finished,  the  whole  party 
had  assembled  in  the  drawing-room,  where  a  newly- 
lighted  fire,  hastily  set  light  to  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment  by  Phoebe,  was  sputtering  drearily.  Mrs 
Vincent  had  been  placed  in  an  arm-chair  at  one  side, 
and  Mrs  Tozer,  spreading  out  her  black  silk  apron 
and  arranging  her  cap,  set  herself  doggedly  on  the. 
other,  with  a  little  toss  of  her  head  and  careful 
averting  of  her  eyes  from  the  accused  pastor.     Tozer, 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  269 

without  his  apron,  had  drawn  a  chair  to  the  table, 
and  was  drumming  on  it  with  the  blunt  round  ends 
of  his  fingers ;  while  Phcebe,  in  a  slightly  pathetic 
attitude,  ready  for  general  conciliation,  hovered  near 
the  minister,  who  grew  red  all  over,  and  clenched 
his  hand  with  an  emphasis  most  intelligible  to  his 
frightened  mother.  The  dreadful  pause  was  broken 
by  Phcebe,  who  rushed  to  the  rescue. 

"  Oh,  Ma,  how  can  you  !  "  cried  that  young  lady — 
"you  were  all  worrying  and  teasing  Mr  Vincent,  you 
know  you  were  ;  and  if  he  does  know  that  beautiful 
lady,"  said  Phcebe,  with  her  head  pathetically  on  one 
side,  and  another  glance  at  him,  still  more  appealing 
and  tenderly  reproachful — "  and — and  likes  to  go  to 
see  her — it's — it's  the  naturalist  thing  that  ever  was. 
Oh,  I  knew  he  never  could  think  anything  of  any- 
body else  in  Carlingfbrd  after  Lady  Western  !  and  I 
am  sure,  whatever  other  people  may  say,  I — I — never 
can  think  Mr  Vincent  was  to  blame." 

Phoebe's  words  were  interrupted  by  her  feelings — 
she  sank  back  into  a  seat  when  she  had  concluded, 
and  put  a  handkerchief  to  her  eyes.  As  for  Tozer,  he 
still  drummed  on  the  table.  A  certain  human  sym- 
pathy was  in  the  mind  of  the  buttermau,  but  he 
deferred  to  the  readier  utterance  of  his  indignant 
wife. 

"I  never  said  it  was  any  concern  of  ours,"  said 


270        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

Mrs  Tozer.  "  It  .ain't  our  way  to  court  nobody  as 
doesn't  seek  our  company  ;  but  a  minister  as  we've 
all  done  a  deal  to  make  comfortable,  and  took  an 
Interest  in  equal  to  a  son,  and  has  been  made  such  a 
fuss  about  as  I  never  see  in  our  connection — it's  dis- 
appointing,  I  will  say,  to  see  him  a-going  off  after 
worldly  folks  that  don't  care  no  more  about  religion 
than  I  do  about  playing  the  piano.  Not  as  Phoebe 
doesn't  play  the  piano  better  than  most — but  such 
things  ain't  in  my  thoughts.  I  do  say  it's  disappoint- 
ing, and  gives  folks  a  turn.  If  she's  pretty-lookin' — 
as  she  may  be,  for  what  I  can  tell — it  ain't  none  of 
the  pastor's  business.  Them  designing  ladies  is  the 
ruin  of  a  young  man  ;  and  when  he  deserts  his  flock, 
as  are  making  sacrifices,  and  goes  off  after  strangers, 
I  don't  say  if  it's  right  or  wrong,  but  I  say  it's  disap- 
pointing and  what  wasn't  looked  for  at  Mr  Vincent's 
hands." 

Vincent  had  listened  up  to  this  point  with  moder- 
ate self-restraint — partially,  perhaps,  subdued  by  the 
alarmed  expression  of  his  mother's  face,  who  had 
fixed  her  anxious  eyes  upon  him,  and  vainly  tried  to 
convey  telegraphic  warnings  ;  but  the  name  of  Lady 
Western  stung  him.  "What  is  all  this  about?"  he 
asked,  with  assumed  coldness.  "Nobody  supposes, 
surely,  that  I  am  to  render  an  account  of  my  private 
friends  to  the  managers  of  the  chapel.     It  is  a  mis- 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  271 

take,  if  it  has  entered  airy  imagination.  I  shall  do 
nothing  of  the  kind.  There  is  enough  of  this.  AVhen 
I  neglect  my  duties,  I  presume  I  shall  hear  of  it  more 
seriously.  In  the  mean  time,  I  have  real  business  in 
hand." 

"But,  Arthur  dear,  I  daresay  some  one  has  mis- 
understood you,"  said  his  mother  ;  "  it  always  turns 
out  so.  I  came  the  day  before  yesterday,  Mrs  Tozer. 
I  left  home  very  suddenly  in  great  anxiety,  and  I 
was  very  much  fatigued  by  the  journey,  and  I  must 
go  back  to-day.  I  have  been  very  selfish,  taking  my 
son  away  from  his  usual  occupations.  Never  mind 
me,  Arthur  dear  ;  if  you  have  any  business,  leave  me 
to  rest  a  little  with  Mrs  Tozer.  I  can  take  such  a 
liberty  here,  because  I  know  she  is  such  a  friend  of 
yours.  Don't  keep  Mr  Tozer  away  from  his  business 
on  my  account.  I  know  what  it  is  when  time  is 
valuable.  I  will  just  stay  a  little  with  Mrs  Tozer, 
and  you  can  let  me  know  when  it  is  time  for  the 
train.  Yes,  I  came  up  very  hurriedly,"  said  the  gentle 
diplomatist,  veiling  her  anxiety  as  she  watched  the 
gloomy  countenances  round  her.  "We  had  heard 
some  bad  news  ;  I  had  to  ask  my  son  to  go  to  town 
yesterday  for  me,  and — and  I  must  go  home  to-day 
without  much  comfort.  I  feel  a  good  deal  shaken, 
but  I  dare  not  stay  away  any  longer  from  my  dear 
child  at  home." 


272       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

"  Dear,  dear  ;  I  hope  it's  nothing  serious  as  has 
happened  i."  said  Mrs  Tozer,  slightly  mollified. 

"  It  is  some  bad  news  about  the  gentleman  Susan 
waa  going  to  marry,"  said  Mrs  Vincent,  with  a  rapid 
calculation  of  the  necessities  of  the  position  ;  "  and 
she  does  not  know  yet.  Arthur,  my  dear  boy,  it 
would  be  a  comfort  to  my  mind  to  know  about  the 
train." 

"Oh,  and  you  will  be  so  fatigued!"  said  Phoebe. 
"  I  do  so  hope  it's  nothing  bad.  I  am  so  interested 
about  Miss  Vincent.  Oh,  Pa,  do  go  down-stairs  and 
look  at  the  railway  bill.  Won't  you  lie  down  on  the 
sofa  a  little  and  rest  ?  Fancy,  mamma,  taking  two 
journeys  in  three  days ! — it  would  kill  you  ;  and,  oh, 
I  do  so  hope  it  is  nothing  very  bad.  I  have  so  longed 
to  see  you  and  Mr  Vincent's  sister.  He  told  me  all 
about  her  one  evening.  Is  the  gentleman  ill  ?  But 
do  lie  down  and  rest  after  all  your  fatigue.  Mamma, 
don't  you  think  it  would  do  Mrs  Vincent  good?" 

""We'll  have  a  bit  of  dinner  presently/'  said  Mrs 
Tozer.  "  Phoebe,  go  and  fetch  the  wine.  There  is 
one  thing  in  trouble,  that  it  makes  folks  find  out 
their  real  friends.  It  wouldn't  be  to  Lady  Western 
the  minister  would  think  of  taking  his  mother.  1 
ain't  saving  anything,  Tozer — nor  Mr  Vincent  needn't 
think  I  am  saying  anything.  If  I  speak  my  mind  a 
bit,  I  don't  bear  malice.     Phoebe's  a  deal  too  feelin', 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  273 

Mrs  Vincent — she's  overcome,  that's  what  she  is  ; 
and  if  I  must  speak  the  truth,  it's  disappointing  to 
see  our  pastor,  as  we've  all  made  sacrifices  for,  follow- 
ing after  the  ungodly.  I  am  a  mother  myself,"  con- 
tinued Mrs  Tozer,  changing  her  seat,'as  her  husband, 
followed  by  the  indignant  Vincent,  went  down-stairs, 
"  and  I  know  a  mother's  feelin's :  but  after  what  I 
heard  from  Mrs  Pigeon,  and  how  it's  going  through 
all  the  connection  in  Carlingford " 

Mrs  Vincent  roused  herself  to  listen.  Her  son's 
cause  was  safe  in  her  hands. 

Meantime  Vincent  went  angry  and  impetuous 
down-stairs.  "  I  will  not  submit  to  any  inquisition," 
cried  the  young  man.  "  I  have  done  nothing  I  am 
ashamed  of.  If  I  dine  with  a  friend,  I  will  suffer  no 
questioning  on  the  subject.  What  do  you  mean? 
What  right  has  any  man  in  any  connection  to  inter- 
fere with  my  actions  ?  Why,  you  would  not  venture 
to  attack  your  servant  so  !  Am  I  the  servant  of  this 
congregation  ?  Am  I  their  slave  ?  Must  I  account 
to  them  for  every  accident  of  my  life  ?  Nobody  in 
the  world  has  a  right  to  make  such  a  demand  upon 
me." 

"  If  a  minister  ain't  a  servant,  we  pays  him  his 

salary  at  the  least,  and  expects  him  to  please  us," 

said  Tozer,  sulkily.     "  If  it  weren't  for  that,  I  don't 

give  a  sixpence  for  the  Dissenting  connection.     Them 
vol.  i.  s 


274  CHRONICLES   OF    CARLINGFORD  ! 

as  likes  to  please  themselves  would  be  far  better  in  a 
State  Church,  where  it  wouldn't  disappoint  nobody  ; 
not  meaning  to  be  hard  on  you  as  has  given  great 
satisfaction,  them's  my  views ;  but  if  the  Chapel 
folks  is  a  little  particular,  it's  no  more  nor  a  pastor's 
duty  to  bear  with  them,  and  return  a  soft  answer.  I 
don't  say  as  I'm  dead  again'  you,  like  the  women," 
added  the  butterman,  softening;  "they're  jealous, 
that's  what  they  are ;  but  I  couldn't  find  it  in  my 
heart,  not  for  my  own  part,  to  be  hard  on  a  man  as 
was  led  away  after  a  beautiful  creature  like  that. 
But  there  can't  no  good  come  of  it,  Mr  Vincent ; 
take  my  advice,  sir,  as  have  seen  a  deal  of  the  world 
— there  can't  no  good  come  of  it.  A  man  as  goes 
dining  with  Lady  Western,  and  thinking  as  she 
means  to  make  a  friend  of  him,  ain't  the  man  for 
Salem.  AW  re  different  sort  of  folks,  and  we  can't  go 
on  together.  Old  Mr  Tufton  will  tell  you  just  the 
same,  as  has  gone  through  it  all — and  that's  why  I 
said  both  him  and  me  had  a  deal  to  say  to  you,  as 
are  a  young  man,  and  should  take  good  advice." 

It  was  well  for  Vincent  that  the  worthy  butterman 
was  lengthy  in  his  address.  The  sharp  impression  of 
resentment  and  indignation  which  possessed  him 
calmed  down  under  this  outpouring  of  words.  He 
bethought  himself  of  his  dignity,  his  character.  A 
squabble  of  self-defence,  in  which  the  sweet  name  of 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  275 

the  lady  of  his  dreams  must  be  involved — an  angry 
encounter  of  words  about  her,  down  here  in  this  mean 
world  to  which  the  very  thought  of  her  was  alien, 
wound  up  her  young  worshipper  into  supernatural 
self-restraint.  He  edged  past  the  table  in  the  back- 
parlour  to  the  window,  and  stood  there  looking  out 
with  a  suppressed  fever  in  his  veins,  biting  his  lip,  and 
bearing  his  lecture.  On  the  whole,  the  best  way,  per- 
haps, would  have  been  to  leave  Carlingford  at  once,  as 
another  man  would  have  done,  and  leave  the  Sunday 
to  take  care  of  itself.  But  though  he  groaned  under 
his  bonds,  the  young  Nonconformist  was  instinctively 
confined  by  them,  and  had  the  habits  of  a  man 
trained  in  necessary  subjection  to  circumstances. 
He  turned  round  abruptly  when  the  butterman  at 
last  came  to  a  pause. 

"  I  will  write  to  one  of  my  friends  in  Homerton," 
he  said,  "  if  you  will  make  an  apology  for  me  in  the 
chapel.  I  daresay  I  could  get  Beecher  to  come  down, 
who  is  a  very  clever  fellow  ;  and  as  for  the  beginning 
of  that  course  of  sermons " 

He  stopped  short  with  a  certain  suppressed  disgust. 
Good  heavens !  what  mockery  it  seemed.  Amid 
these  agonies  of  life,  a  man  overwhelmed  with  deadly 
fear,  hatred,  and  grief  might  indeed  pause  to  snatch  a 
burning  lesson,  or  appropriate  with  trembling  hands 
a  consolatory  promise ;   but  with  the  whole  solemn 


27 G       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLIXGFORD  : 

future  of  his  sister's  life  hanging  on  a  touch,  with  all 
the  happiness  and  peace  of  his  own  involved  in  a 
feverish  uncertainty,  with  dark  unsuspected  depths 
of  injury  and  wretchedness  opening  at  his  feet — to 
think  of  courses  of  sermons  and  elaborate  preach- 
ments, ineffectual  words,  and  pretences  of  teaching  ! 
Fot  the  first  time  in  the  commotion  of  his  soul,  in 
the  resentments  and  forebodings  to  which  he  gave  no 
utterance,  in  the  bitter  conviction  of  uncertainty  in 
everything  which  consumed  his  heart,  a  doubt  of  his 
own  ability  to  teach  came  to  Vincent's  mind.  He 
stopped  short  with  an  intolerable  pang  of  impatience 
and  self-disgust. 

"And  what  of  that,  Mr  Vincent?"  said  Tozer. 
"  I  can't  say  as  I  think  it'll  be  well  took  to  see  a 
stranger  in  the  pulpit  after  them  intimations.  I 
made  it  my  business  to  send  the  notices  out  last 
night ;  and  after  saying  everywhere  as  you  were  to 
begin  a  coorse,  as  I  always  advised,  if  you  had  took 
my  advice,  it  ain't  a  way  to  stop  talk  to  put  them  off 
now.  Old  Mr  Tufton,  you  know,  he  was  a  different 
man  ;  it  was  experience  as  was  his  line  ;  and  I  don't 
mean  to  say  nothing  against  experience,"  said  the 
worthy  deacon.  "There  ain't  much  true  godliness, 
take  my  word,  where  there's  a  shrinking  from  dis- 
closin'  the  state  of  your  soul;  but  for  keeping  up  a 
conoreoation  there's  nothing  I  know  on  like  a  coorse 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  277 

— and  a  clever  young  man  as  lias  studied  his  subjects, 
and  knows  the  manners  of  them  old  times,  and  can 
give  a  bit  of  a  description  as  takes  the  interest,  that's 
what  I'd  set  my  heart  on  for  Salem.  There's  but 
three  whole  pews  in  the  chapel  as  isn't  engaged,"  said 
the  butterman,  with  a  softening  glance  at  the  pastor  ; 
"  and  the  Miss  Hemmings  sent  over  this  morning  to 
say  as  they  meant  to  come  regular  the  time  you  was 
on  the  Miracles ;  and  but  for  this  cackle  of  the  women, 
as  you'll  soon  get  over,  there  ain't  a  thing  as  I  can 
see  to  stop  us  filling  up  to  the  most  influential  chapel 
in  the  connection  ;  I  mean  in  our  parts." 

The  subdued  swell  of  expectation  with  which  the 
ambitious  butterman  concluded,  somehow  made  Yin- 
cent  more  tolerant  even  in  his  undiminished  excite- 
ment. He  gave  a  subdued  groan  over  all  this  that 
was  expected  of  him,  but  not  without  a  little  answer- 
ing thrill  in  his  own  troubled  and  impatient  heart, 

"  A  week  can't  make  much  difference,  if  I  am  ever 
to  do  any  good,"  said  the  young  man.  "  I  must  go 
now  ;  but  if  you  explain  the  matter  for  me,  you  will 
smooth  the  way.  I  will  bring  my  mother  and  sister 
here,"  he  went  on,  giving  himself  over  for  a  moment 
to  a  little  gleam  of  comfort,  "  and  everything  will  go 
on  better.  I  am  worried  and  anxious  now,  and  don't 
know  what  I  am  about.  Give  me  some  paper,  and  I 
will  write  to  Beecher.     You  will  like  him.     He  is  a 


278        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLIXGFORD  ! 

good  fellow,  and  preaches  much  better  than  I  do," 
added  poor  Vincent  with  a  sigh,  sitting  wearily  down 
by  the  big  table.  He  was  subdued  to  his  condition 
at  that  moment,  and  Tozer  appreciated  the  momentary 
humbleness. 

"  I  am  not  the  man  to  desert  my  minister  when 
he's  in  trouble,"  said  the  brave  butterman.  "Look 
you  here,  Mr  Vincent ;  don't  fret  yourself  about  it. 
I'll  take  it  in  hand ;  and  I'd  like  to  see  the  man  in 
Salem  as  would  say  to  the  contrary  again'  me  and  the 
pastor  both.  Make  your  mind  easy  ;  I'll  manage  'em. 
As  for  the  women,"  said  Tozer,  scratching  his  head, 
"  I  don't  pretend  not  to  be  equal  to  that ;  but  my 
missis  is  as  reasonable  as  most ;  and  Phoebe,  she'll 
stand  up  for  you,  whatever  you  do.  If  you'll  take 
my  advice,  and  be  a  bit  prudent,  and  don't  go  after 
no  more  vanities,  things  ain't  so  far  wrong  but  a 
week  or  two  will  make  them  right." 

With  this  consolatory  assurance  Vincent  began  to 
write  his  letter.  Before  he  had  concluded  it,  the  maid 
came  to  lay  the  cloth  for  dinner,  thrusting  him  into  a 
corner,  where  he  accomplished  his  writing  painfully 
on  his  knee  with  his  ink  on  the  window-sill,  a  posi- 
tion in  which  Phoabe  found  him  when  she  ventured 
down-stairs.  It  was  she  who  took  his  letter  from 
him,  and  ran  with  it  to  the  shop  to  despatch  it  at 
once ;  and  Phoebe  came  back  to  tell  him  that  Mrs 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  279 

Vincent  was  resting,  and  that  it  was  so  pleasant  to 
see  him  back  again  after  such  a  time.  "I  never  ex- 
pected you  would  have  any  patience  for  us  when  I 
saw  you  knew  Lady  Western  so  well.  Oh,  she  is  so 
sweetly  pretty !  and  if  I  were  a  gentleman,  I  know  I 
should  fall  deep  in  love  with  her,"  said  Phoe.be,  with 
a  sidelong  glance,  and  not  without  hopes  of  calling 
forth  a  disclaimer  from  the  minister ;  but  the  poor 
minister,  jammed  up  in  the  corner,  whence  it  was 
now  necessary  to  extricate  his  chair  preparatory  to 
sitting  down  to  a  family  dinner  with  the  Tozers,  was, 
as  usual,  unequal  to  the  occasion,  and  had  nothing  to 
say.  Phoebe's  chair  was  by  the  minister's  side  dur- 
ing that  substantial  meal ;  and  the  large  fire  which 
burned  behind  Mrs  Tozer  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and 
the  steaming  viands  on  the  hospitable  board,  and  the 
prevailing  atmosphere  of  cheese  and  bacon  which 
entered  when  the  door  was  opened,  made  even  Mrs 
Vincent  pale  and  flush  a  little  in  the  heroic  patience 
and  friendliness  with  which  she  bent  all  her  powers 
to  secure  the  support  of  these  adherents  to  her  son. 
"  I  could  have  wished,  Arthur,  they  were  a  little  more 
refined,"  she  said,  faintly,  when  the  dinner  was  over, 
and  they  were  at  last  on  their  way  to  the  train  ;  "  but 
I  am  sure  they  are  very  genuine,  my  dear ;  and  one 
good  friend  is  often  everything  to  a  pastor  ;  and  I  am 
so  "lad  we  went  at  such  a  time."     So  glad !     The 


280        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD. 

young  Nonconformist  heaved  a  tempestuous  sigh,  ami 
turned  away  not  without  a  reflection  upon  the  super- 
ficial emotions  of  women  who  at  such  a  time  could  be 
glad.  But  Mrs  Vincent,  for  her  part,  with  a  fatigue 
and  sickness  of  heart  which  she  concealed  from  her- 
self as  much  as  she  could,  let  down  her  veil,  and  cried 
quietly  behind  it.  Perhaps  her  share  of  the  day's 
exhaustion  had  not  been  the  mildest  or  least  hard. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 


The  journey  was  troublesome  and  tedious,  involving 
a  change  from  one  railway  to  another,  and  a  troubled 
glimpse  into  the  most  noisy  streets  of  London  by  the 
way.  Vincent  had  left  his  mother,  as  he  thought, 
safe  in  the  cab  which  carried  them  to  the  second  rail- 
way station,  and  was  disposing  of  the  little  luggage 
they  had  with  them,  that  he  might  not  require  to 
leave  her  again,  when  he  heard  an  anxious  voice  call- 
ing him,  and  found  her  close  behind  Mm,  afloat  in 
the  bustle  and  confusion  of  the  crowd,  dreadfully 
agitated  and  helpless,  calling  upon  her  Arthur  with 
impatient  accents  of  distress.  His  annoyance  to  find 
her  there  increased  her  confusion  and  trembling. 
"  Arthur,"  she  gasped  out,  "  I  saw  him — I  saw  him — 
not  a  minute  ago — in  a  cab — with  some  ladies ;  oh, 
my  dear,  run  after  him.  That  was  the  way  he  went. 
Arthur,  Arthur,  why  don't  you  go  ?  Never  mind  me 
— I  can  take  care  of  myself." 


282        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  I 

"  Who  was  it — how  did  he  go  ? — why  didn't  you 
stop  him,  mother  ? "  cried  the  young  man,  rushing 
back  to  the  spot  she  had  left.  Nothing  was  to  be 
seen  there  but  the  usual  attendant  group  of  railway 
porters,  and  the  alarmed  cabman  who  had  been  keep- 
ing his  eye  on  Mrs  Vincent.  The  poor  widow  gasped 
as  she  gazed  and  saw  no  traces  of  the  enemy  who  had 
eluded  them. 

"  Oh,  Arthur,  my  dear  boy,  I  thought,  in  such  a 
case,  it  ought  to  be  a  man  to  speak  to  him,"  faltered 
Mrs  Vincent.  "  He  went  that  way — that  way,  look  ! 
— in  a  cab,  with  somebody  in  a  blue  veil.". 

Vincent  rushed  away  in  the  direction  she  indicated, 
at  a  pace  which  he  was  totally  unused  to,  and  of 
course  quite  unable  to  keep  up  beyond  the  first  heat ; 
but  few  things  could  be  more  hopeless  than  to  dash 
into  the  whirl  of  vehicles  in  the  crowded  current  of 
the  New  Iioad,  with  any  vain  hope  of  identifying  one 
which  had  ten  minutes'  start,  and  no  more  distinctive 
mark  of  identity  than  the  spectrum  of  a  blue  veil. 
He  rushed  back  again,  angry  with  himself  for  losing 
breath  in  so  vain  an  attempt,  just  in  time  to  place  his 
mother  in  a  carriage  and  jump  in  beside  her  before 
the  train  started.  Mrs  Vincent's  anxiety,  her  ques- 
tions which  he  could  not  hear,  her  doubts  whether  it 
might  not  have  been  best  to  have  missed  the  train 
and  followed  MrFordham,  aggravated  the  much-tried 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  283 

patience  of  her  son  beyond  endurance.  They  set  off 
upon  their  sad  journey  with  a  degree  of  injured  feel- 
ing on  both  sides,  such  as  often  gives  a  miserable 
complication  to  a  mutual  anxiety.  But  the  mother, 
wounded  and  timid,  feeling  more  than  ever  the  differ- 
ence between  the  boy  who  was  all  her  own  and  the 
man  who  had  thoughts  and  impulses  of  which  she 
knew  nothing,  was  naturally  the  first  to  recover  and 
to  make  wistful  overtures  of  peace. 

"  Well,  Arthur,"  she  said,  after  a  while,  leaning 
forward  to  him,  her  mild  voice  making  a  gentle  mur- 
mur through  the  din  of  the  journey,  "though  it  was 
very  foolish  of  me  not  to  speak  to  him  when  I  saw 
him,  still,  dear,  he  is  gone  and  out  of  the  way  ;  that 
is  a  great  comfort — we  will  never,  never  let  him  come 
near  Susan  again.  That  is  just  what  I  was  afraid  of; 
I  have  been  saying  to  myself  all  day,  'What  if  he 
should  go  to  Lonsdale  too,  and  deny  it  all  ? '  but  Pro- 
vidence, you  see,  dear,  has  ordered  it  for  us,  and  now 
he  shall  never  come  near  my  poor  child  again." 

"  Do  you  think  he  has  been  to  Lonsdale  ? "  asked 
Vincent. 

"My  poor  Susan!"  said  his  simple  mother, "  she 
will  be  happier  than  ever  when  we  come  to  her  with 
this  dreadful  news.  Yes ;  I  suppose  he  must  have 
been  seeing  her,  Arthur — and  I  am  glad  it  has  hap- 
pened while  I  was  away,  and  before  we  knew ;  and 


284  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

now  he  is  gone,"  said  the  widow,  looking  out  of  the 
carriage  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  as  if  she  could  still  see 
the  road  by  which  he  had  disappeared — "  now  he  is 
gone,  there  will  be  no  need  for  any  dreadful  strife  or 
arguments.  God  always  arranges  things  for  us  so 
much  better  than  we  can  arrange  them  for  ourselves. 
Fancy  if  he  had  come  to-morrow  to  tear  her  dear  heart 
to  pieces ! — Oh,  Arthur,  I  am  very  thankful !  There 
will  be  nothing  to  do  now  but  to  think  best  how  to 
break  it  to  her.  He  had  ladies  with  him ;  it  is  dread- 
ful to  think  of  such  villany.  Oh,  Arthur,  do  you 
imagine  it  could  be  his  wife  1 — and  somebody  in  a 
blue  veil." 

"  A  blue  veil ! " — Mrs  Halyard's  message  suddenly 
occurred  to  Vincent's  mind,  with  its  special  mention 
of  that  article  of  disguise.  "  If  this  man  is  the  man 
we  suppose,  he  has  accomplished  one  of  his  wishes," 
said  the  minister,  slowly  ;  "  and  she  will  kill  him  as 
sure  as  he  lives." 

"  Who  will  kill  him  1 — I  hope  nothing  has  occurred 
about  your  friend's  child  to  agitate  my  Susan,"  said 
his  mother.  "  It  was  all  the  kindness  of  your  heart, 
my  dear  boy  ;  but  it  was  very  imprudent  of  you  to 
let  Susan's  name  be  connected  with  anybody  of  doubt- 
ful character.  Oh,  Arthur,  dear,  we  have  both  been 
very  imprudent ! — you  have  so  much  of  my  quick 
temper.     It  was  a  punishment  to  me  to  see  how  im- 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  285 

patient  you  were  to-day ;  but  Susan  takes  after  your 
dear  father.  Oh,  my  own  boy,  pray ;  pray  for  her, 
that  her  heart  may  not  be  broken  by  this  dreadful 
news." 

And  Mrs  Vincent  leant  back  in  her  corner,  and 
once  more  put  down  her  veiL  Pray ! — who  was  he 
to  pray  for?  Susan,  forlorn  and  innocent,  disap- 
pointed in  her  first  love,  but  unharmed  by  any 
W(  irldly  soil  or  evil  passion  ? — or  the  other  sufferers 
involved  in  more  deadly  sort,  himself  palpitating 
with  feverish  impulses,  broken  loose  from  all  his, 
peaceful  youthful  moorings,  burning  with  discon- 
tents and  aspirations,  not  spiritual,  but  of  the  world? 
Vincent  prayed  none  as  he  asked  himself  that  bitter 
question.  He  drew  back  in  his  seat  opposite  his 
mother,  and  pondered  in  his  heart  the  wonderful 
difference  between  the  objects  of  compassion  to  whom 
the  world  gives  ready  tears,  and  those  of  whom  the 
world  knows  and  suspects  nothing.  Susan !  he  could 
see  her  mother  weeping  over  her  in  her  white  and 
tender  innocence.  What  if,  perhaps,  she  broke  her 
young  heart?  the  shock  would  only  send  the  girl 
with  more  clinging  devotion  to  the  feet  of  the  great 
Father ;  but  as  for  himself,  all  astray  from  duty  and 
sober  life,  devoured  with  a  consuming  fancy,  loath- 
ing the  way  and  the  work  to  which  he  had  been 
trained  to  believe  that  Father  had  called  him — who 


286  CHRONICLES   OF    CARLINGFORD  : 

thought  of  weeping  ? — or  for  Her,  whom  his  alarmed 
imagination  could  not  but  follow,  going  forth  re- 
morseless and  silent  to  fulfil  her  promise,  and  kill 
the  man  who  had  wronged  her?  Oh,  the  cheat  of 
tears  ! — falling  sweet  over  the  young  sufferers  whom 
sorrow  blessed — drying  up  from  the  horrible  complex 
pathways  where  other  souls,  in  undisclosed  anguish, 
went  farther  and  farther  from  God  ! 

With  such  thoughts  the  mother  and  son  hurried 
on  upon  their  darkling  journey.  It  was  the  middle 
of  the  night  when  they  arrived  in  Lonsdale — a  night 
starless,  but  piercing  with  cold.  They  were  the  only 
passengers  who  got  out  at  the  little  station,  where 
two  or  three  lamps  glared  wildly  on  the  night,  and 
two  pale  porters  made  a  faint  bustle  to  forward  the 
long  convoy  of  carriages  upon  its  way.  One  of  these 
men  looked  anxiously  at  the  widow,  as  if  with  the 
sudden  impulse  of  asking  a  question,  or  communi- 
cating some  news,  but  was  called  off  by  his  superior 
before  he  could  speak.  Vincent  unconsciously  ob- 
served the  look,  and  wras  surprised  and  even  alarmed 
by  it,  without  knowing  why.  It  returned  to  his 
mind,  as  he  gave  his  mother  his  arm  to  walk  the  re- 
maining distance  home.  Why  did  the  man  put  on 
that  face  of  curiosity  and  wonder  ?  But,  to  be  sure, 
to  see  the  mild  widow  arrive  in  this  unexpected  way 
in  the  middle  of  the  icy  January  night,  must  have 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  287 

been  surprising  enough  to  any  one  who  knew  her, 
and  her  gentle  decorous  life.  He  tried  to  think  no 
more  of  it,  as  they  set  out  upon  the  windy  road, 
where  a  few  sparely-scattered  lamps  blinked  wildly, 
and  made  the  surrounding  darkness  all  the  darker. 
The  station  was  half  a  mile  from  the  town,  and  Mrs 
Vincent's  cottage  was  on  the  other  side  of  Lonsdale, 
across  the  river,  which  stole  sighing  and  gleaming 
through  the  heart  of  the  little  place.  Somehow  the 
sudden  black  shine  of  that  water  as  they  caught  it, 
crossing  the  bridge,  brought  a  shiver  and  Hash  of  wild 
imagination  to  the  mind  of  the  Nonconformist.  He 
thought  of  suicides,  murders,  ghastly  concealment,  and 
misery ;  and  again  the  face  of  the  porter  returned 
upon  him.  AVhat  if  something  had  happened  while 
the  watchful  mother  had  been  out  of  the  way  ?  The 
wind  came  sighing  round  the  corners  with  an  in- 
effectual gasp,  as  if  it  too  had  some  warning,  some 
message  to  deliver.  Instinctively  he  drew  his  mo- 
ther's arm  closer,  and  hurried  her  on.  Suggestions 
of  horrible  unthought-of  evil  seemed  lurking  every- 
where in  the  noiseless  blackness  of  the  night. 

Mrs  Vincent  shivered  too,  but  it  was  with  cold 
and  natural  agitation.  In  her  heart  she  was  putting 
tender  words  together,  framing  tender  phrases — con- 
sulting with  herself  how  she  was  to  look,  and  how 
to  speak.     Already  she  could  see  the  half-awakened 


288       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

girl,  starting  up  all  glowing  and  sweet  from  her  safe 
rest,  unforeboding  of  evil ;  and  the  widow  composed 
her  face  under  the  shadow  of  her  veil,  and  sent  back 
with  an  effort  the  unshed  tears  from  her  eyes,  that 
Susan  might  not  see  any  traces  in  her  face,  till  she 
had  "  prepared  her"  a  little,  for  that  dreadful,  in- 
evitable blow. 

The  cottage  was  all  dark,  as  was  natural — doubly 
dark  to-night,  for  there  was  no  light  in  the  skies,  and 
the  wind  had  extinguished  the  lamp  which  stood  near- 
est, and  on  ordinary,  occasions  threw  a  doubtful  flicker 
on  the  little  house.  "  Susan  will  soon  hear  us,  she  is 
such  a  light  sleeper,"  said  Mrs  Vincent.  "  Eing  the 
bell,  Arthur.  I  don't  like  using  the  knocker,  to  dis- 
turb the  neighbours.  Everybody  would  think  it  so 
•surprising  to  hear  a  noise  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
from  our  house.  There — wait  a  moment.  That  was 
a  very  loud  ring ;  Susan  must  be  sleeping  very 
soundly  if  that  does  not  wake  her  up." 

There  was  a  little  pause  ;  not  a  sound,  except  the 
tinkling  of  the  bell,  which  they  could  hear  inside  as 
the  peal  gradually  subsided,  was  in  the  air  ;  breath- 
less silence,  darkness,  cold,  an  inhuman  preternatural 
chill  and  watchfulness,  no  welcome  sound  of  awaken- 
ing sleepers,  only  their  own  dark  shadows  in  the 
darkness,  listening  like  all  the  hushed  surrounding 
world  at  that  closed  door. 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  289 

"  Poor  dear !  Oh,  Arthur,  it  is  dreadful  to  come 
and  break  her  sleep,"  sighed  Mrs  Vincent,  whose 
strain  of  suspense  and  expectation  heightened  the 
effect  of  the  cold :  "  when  will  she  sleep  as  sound 
again  ?  Give  another  ring,  dear.  How  terribly  dark 
and  quiet  it  is  !  Ring  again,  again,  Arthur  ! — dear, 
dear  me,  to  think  of  Susan  in  such  a  sound  sleep  !  — 
and  generally  she  starts  at  any  noise.  It  is  to  give 
her  strength  to  bear  what  is  coining,  poor  child,  poor 
child!" 

The  bell  seemed  to  echo  out  into  the  silent  road, 
it  pealed  so  clearly  and  loudly  through  the  shut-up 
house,  but  nut  another  sound  disturbed  the  air  with- 
out or  within.  Mrs  Vincent  began  to  grow  restless 
and  alarmed.  She  went  out  into  the  road,  and  gazed 
up  at  the  closed  windows  ;  her  very  teeth  chattered 
with  anxiety  and  cold. 

"  It  is  very  odd  she  does  not  wake,"  said  the 
widow  ;  "  she  must  be  rousing  now,  surely.  Arthur, 
don't  look  as  if  we  had  bad  news.  Try  to  command 
your  countenance,  dear.  Hush!  don't  you  hear  them 
stirring?  Now,  Arthur,  Arthur,  oh  remember  not  to 
look  so  dreadful  as  you  did  in  Carlingford !  I  am 
sure  I  hear  her  coming  down-stairs.  Hark  !  what  is 
it  ?    Ring  again,  Arthur — again  ! " 

The  words  broke  confused  and  half-articulate  from 
her  lips  ;  a  vague  dread  took  possession  of  her,  as  of 

VOL.  I.  t 


290  CHRONICLES   OF    CARLINGFORD  : 

her  son.  For  his  part,  he  rang  the  bell  wildly  with- 
out pausing,  and  applied  the  knocker  to  the  echoing 
door  with  a  sound  which  seemed  to  reverberate  back 
and  back  through  the  darkness.  It  was  not  the  sleep 
of  youth  Vincent  thought  of,  as,  without  a  word  to 
say,  he  thundered  his  summons  on  the  cottage  door. 
He  was  not  himself  aware  what  he  was  afraid  of ;  but 
iii  his  mind  he  saw  the  porter's  alarmed  and  curi- 
ous look,  and  felt  the  ominous  silence  thrilling  with 
loud  clangour  of  his  own  vain  appeals  through  tlie 
deserted  house. 

At  length  a  sound — the  mother  and  son  both  rushed 
speechless  towards  the  side-window,  from  which  it 
came.  The  window  creaked  slowly  open,  and  a  head, 
which  was  not  Susan's,  looked  cautiously  out.  "  Who 
is  there?"  cried  a  strange  voice  ;  "it's  some  mistake. 
This  is  Mrs  Vincent's,  this  is,  and  nobody's  at  home. 
If  you  don't  go  away  I'll  spring  the  rattle,  and  call 
Thieves,  thieves — Fire  !  What  do  you  mean  coming 
rousing  folks  like  this  in  the  dead  of  night?" 

"  Oh,  Williams,  are  you  there  ?  Thank  God  ! — 
then  all  is  well,"  said  Mrs  Vincent,  clasping  her 
hands.  "  It  is  I — you  need  not  be  afraid — I  and  my 
son:  don't  disturb  Miss  Susan,  since  she  has  not 
heard  us — but  come  down,  and  let  us  in  ; — don't  dis- 
turb my  daughter.  It  is  I — don't  you  know  my 
voice  ?" 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  291 

"  Good  Lord!"  cried  the  speaker  at  the  window  ; 
then  in  a  different  tone,  "  I'm  coming,  ma'am — I'm 
coming."  Instinctively,  without  knowing  why,  Yin- 
cent  drew  his  mother's  arm  within  his  own,  and  held 
her  fast.  Instinctively  the  widow  clung  to  him,  and 
kept  herself  erect  by  his  aid.  They  did  not  say  a 
word — no  advices  now  about  composing  his  counte- 
nance. Mrs  Vincent's  face  was  ghastly,  had  there 
been  any  light  to  see  it.  She  went  sheer  forward 
when  the  door  was  open,  as  though  neither  her  eyes 
nor  person  were  susceptible  of  any  other  motion.  An 
inexpressible  air  of  desolation  upon  the  cottage  par- 
lour, where  everything  looked  far  too  trim  and  orderly 
for  recent  domestic  occupation,  brought  to  a  climax 
all  the  fanciful  suggestions  which  had  been  torment- 
ing Vincent.  He  called  out  his  sister's  name  in  an 
involuntary  outburst  of  dread  and  excitement,  "Susan! 
Susan ! "  The  words  pealed  into  the  midnight  echoes 
— but  there  was  no  Susan  to  answer  to  the  call. 

"  It  is  God  that  keeps  her  asleep  to  keep  her  happy/' 
said  his  mother,  with  her  white  lips.  She  dropt  from 
his  arm  upon  the  sofa  in  a  dreadful  pause  of  deter- 
mination, facing  them  with  wide-open  eyes — daring 
them  to  undeceive  her — resolute  not  to  hear  the 
terrible  truth,  which  already  in  her  heart  she  knew. 
"Susan  is  asleep,  asleep!"  she  cried,  in  a  terrible 
idiocy  of  despair,  always  facing  the  frightened  woman 


292       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

before  her  with  those  eyes  which  knew  better,  but 
would  not  be  undeceived.  The  shivering  midnight, 
the  mother's  dreadful  looks,  the  sudden  waking  to  all 
this  Bright  and  wonder,  were  too  much  for  the  terri- 
fied guardian  of  the  house.  She  fell  on  her  knees  at 
the  widow's  feet. 

"  Oh,  Lord !  Miss  Susan's  gone  !  I'd  have  kep  her 
if  I  had  been  here.  I'd  have  said  her  mamma  would 
never  send  no  gentleman  but  Mr  Arthur  to  fetch  her 
away.  But  she's  gone.  Good  Lord !  it's  killed  my 
missis — I  knew  it  would  kill  my  missis.  Oh,  good 
Lord  !  good  Lord  !  Eun  for  a  doctor,  Mr  Arthur  ;  if 
the  missis  is  gone,  what  shall  we  do  ? " 

Vincent  threw  the  frightened  creature  off  with  a 
savage  carelessness  of  which  he  was  quite  uncon- 
scious, and  raised  his  mother  in  his  arms.  She  had 
fallen  back  in  a  dreary  momentary  fit  which  was  not 
Fainting — her  eyes  fluttering  under  their  half-closed 
lids,  her  lips  moving  with  sounds  that  did  not  come. 
Tin-  si  Kick  had  struck  her  as  .such  shocks  strike  the 
mortal  frame  when  it  grows  old.  When  sound  burst 
at  last  from  the  moving  lips,  it  was  in  a  babble  thai 
mocked  all  her  efforts  to  speak.  But  she  was  not 
unconscious  of  the  sudden  misery.  Her  eyes  wan- 
dered about,  taking  in  everything  around  her,  and  at 
last  fixed  upon  a  letter  lying  half-open  on  Susan's 
work-table,  almost  the  only  token  of  disorder  or 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  293 

agitation  in  the  trim  little  room.  The  first  sign  of 
revival  she  showed  was  pointing  at  it  with  a  doubtful 
but  impatient  gesture.  Before  she  could  make  them 
understand  what  she  meant,  that  "  quick  temper  "  of 
which  Mrs  Vincent  accused  herself  blazed  up  in  the 
widow's  eyes.  She  raised  herself  erect  out  of  her 
son's  arms,  and  seized  the  paper.  It  was  Vincent's 
letter  to  his  sister,  written  from  London  after  he  had 
failed  in  his  inquiries  about  Mr  Fordham.  In  tin- 
light  of  this  dreadful  midnight  the  young  man  him- 
self perceived  how  alarming  and  peremptory  were 
its  brief  injunctions.  " Don't  write  to  M r  Fordham 
again  till  my  mother's  return  ;  probably  I  shall  bring 
her  home :  we  have  something  to  say  to  you  on  this 
subject,  and  in  the  mean  time  be  sure  you  do  as  I  tell 
you."  Mrs  Vincent  gradually  recovered  herself  as 
she  read  this  ;  she  said  it  over  under  her  breath, 
getting  back  the  use  of  her  speech.  There  was  not 
much  explanation  in  it,  yet  it  seemed  to  take  the 
place,  in  the  mother's  confused  faculties,  of  an  apology 
for  Susan.  "  She  was  frightened,"  said  Mrs  Vincent, 
slowly,  with  strange  twitches  about  her  lips — "she 
was  frightened."  That  was  all  her  mind  could  take 
in  at  once.  Afterwards,  minute  by  minute,  she 
raised  herself  up,  and  came  to  self-command  and 
composure.  Only  as  she  recovered  did  the  truth 
reveal  itself  clearly  even  to  Vincent,  who,  after  the 


294        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

first  shock,  had  been  occupied  entirely  by  his  mother. 
The  young  man's  head  throbbed  and  tingled  as  if 
with  blows.  As  she  sat  up  and  gazed  at  him  with 
her  own  recovered  looks,  through  the  dim  ice-cold 
atmosphere,  lighted  faintly  with  one  candle,  they 
both  woke  up  to  the  reality  of  their  position.  The 
shock  of  the  discovery  was  over — Susan  wras  gone ; 
but  where,  and  with  whom  ?  There  was  still  some- 
thing to  hope,  if  everything  to  fear. 

"  She  is  gone  to  her  aunt  Alice,"  said  Mrs  Vincent, 
once  more  looking  full  in  the  eyes  of  the  woman  who 
had  been  left  in  charge  of  the  house,  and  who  stood 
shivering  with  cold  and  agitation,  winding  and  un- 
winding round  her  a  thin  shawl  in  which  she  had 
wrapped  up  her  arms.  "  She  has  gone  to  her  aunt 
Alice — she  was  frightened,  and  thought  something- 
had  happened.  To-morrow  we  can  go  and  bring  her 
home/' 

"  Oh,  good  Lord  !  No  ;  she  ain't  there,"  cried  the 
frightened  witness,  half  inaudible  with  her  chattering 
teeth. 

"Or  to  Mrs  Hastings  at  the  farm.  Susan  knows 
what  friends  I  can  trust  her  to.  Arthur,  dear,  let  us 
go  to  bed.  It's  uncomfortable,  but  you  won't  mind 
for  one  night,"  said  the  widow,  with  a  gasp,  rising  up 
and  sitting  down  again.  She  dared  not  trust  herself 
to  hear  any  explanation,  yet  all  the  time  fixed  with 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  295 

devouring  eyes  upon  the  face  of  the  woman  whom 
she  would  not  suffer  to  speak. 

"  Mother,  for  Heaven's  sake  let  us  understand  it ; 
let  her  speak — let  us  know.  Where  has  Susan  gone  ? 
Speak  out ;  never  mind  interruptions.  Where  is  my 
sister  ? "  cried  Vincent,  grasping  the  terrified  woman 
by  the  arm. 

"  Oh  Lord  !  If  the  missis  wouldn't  look  at  me  like 
that !  I  ain't  to  blame  !  "  cried  Williams,  piteously. 
"  It  was  the  day  afore  yesterday  as  the  ladies  came. 
I  come  up  to  help  Mary  with  the  beds.  There  was 
the  old  lady  as  had  on  a  brown  bonnet  and  the  young 
miss  in  the  blue  veil " 

Vincent  uttered  a  sudden  exclamation,  and  looked 
at  his  mother ;  but  she  would  not  meet  his  eyes — 
would  not  acknowledge  any  recognition  of  that  fatal 
piece  of  gauze.  She  gave  a  little  gasp,  sitting  bolt 
upright,  holding  fast  by  the  back  of  a  chair,  but 
kept  her  eyes  steadily  and  sternly  upon  the  woman's 
face. 

"  We  tidied  the  best  room  for  the  lady,  and  Miss 
Susan's  little  closet ;  and  Mary  had  out  the  best 
sheets,  for  she  says " 

"Mary — where's  Mary?"  cried  Mrs  Vincent,  sud- 
denly. 

"I  know  no  more  nor  a  babe,"  cried  Williams, 
wringing  her  hands.     "  She's  along  with  Miss  Susan 


296        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

— wherever  that  may  he — and  the  one  in  the  "blue 
veil." 

"  (Jo  on,  go  on  ! "  cried  Vincent. 

But  his  mother  did  not  echo  his  cry.  Her  strained 
hand  fell  upon  her  lap  with  a  certain  relaxation  and 
relief ;  her  gaze  grew  less  rigid ;  incomprehensible 
moisture  came  to  her  eyes.  "Oh,  Arthur,  there's 
comfort  in  it!"  said  Mrs  Vincent,  looking  like  her- 
self again.  "  She's  taken  Mary,  God  bless  her ! 
she's  known  what  she  was  doing.  Now  I'm  more 
easy ;  Williams,  you  can  sit  down  and  tell  us  the 
rest." 

"  Go  on ! "  cried  Vincent,  fiercely.  "  Good  heavens  ! 
what  good  can  a  blundering  country  girl  do  here? — 
go  on." 

The  women  thought  otherwise;  they  exchanged 
looks  of  sympathy  and  thankfulness  ;  they  excited 
the  impatient  young  man  beside  them,  who  thought 
he  knew  the  world,  into  the  wildest  exasperation  by 
that  pause  of  theirs.  His  mother  even  loosed  her 
bonnet  off  her  aching  head,  and  ventured  to  lean 
back  under  the  influence  of  that  visionary  consola- 
tion ;  while  Vincent,  aggravated  to  the  intolerable 
pitch,  sprang  up,  and,  once  more  seizing  Williams  by 
the  arm,  shook  her  unawares  in  the  violence  of  his 
anxiety.  "Answer  me !  "  cried  the  young  man ;  "  you 
tell  us  everytlnng   but  the  most   important  of  all. 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  297 

Besides  this  girl — and  Mary — who  was  with  my 
sister  when  she  went  away?  " 

"  Oh  Lord !  you  shake  the  breath  out  of  me,  Mi- 
Arthur — you  do,"  cried  the  woman.  "Who?  why, 
who  should  it  be,  to  be  sure,  but  him  as  had  the 
best  right  after  yourself  to  take  Miss  Susan  to  her 
mamma  ?  You've  crossed  her  on  the  road,  poor 
dear,"  said  the  adherent  of  the  house,  wringing  her 
hands  ;  "  but  she  was  going  to  her  ma — that's  where 
she  was  going.  Mr  Arthurs  letter  gave  her  a  turn  ; 
and  then,  to  be  sure,  when  Mr  Fordham  came,  the 
very  first  thing  he  thought  upon  was  to  take  her  to 
her  mamma." 

Vincent  groaned  aloud.  In  his  firsl  impulse  of 
fury  he  seized  his  hat  and  rushed  to  the  door  to  pur- 
sue them  anyhow,  by  any  means.  Then,  remember- 
ing how  vain  was  the  attempt,  came  back  again, 
dashed  down  the  hat  he  had  put  on,  and  seized  upon 
the  railway  book  in  his  pocket,  to  see  when  he  could 
start  upon  that  desperate  mission.  Minister  as  he 
was,  a  muttered  curse  ground  through  his  teeth 
— villain!  coward!  destroyer!  —  curse  him!  His 
passion  was  broken  in  the  strangest  way  by  the  com- 
posed sounds  of  his  mother's  voice. 

"It  was  very  natural,"  she  said,  with  dry  tones, 
taking  time  to  form  the  words  as  if  they  choked  her  ; 
"  and  of  course,  as  you  say,  Williams,  Mr  Fordham 


298        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  ! 

had  the  best  right.  He  will  take  her  to  his  mother's 
— or — or  leave  her  in  my  son's  rooms  in  Carlingford  ; 
and  as  she  has  Mary  with  her — Arthur,"  continued 
his  mother,  fixing  a  warning  emphatic  look  upon  him 
as  he  raised  his  astonished  eyes  to  her  face,  "  you 
know  that  is  quite  right :  after  you — Mr  Fordham  is 
— the  only  person — that  could  have  taken  care  of  her 
in  her  journey.  There,  I  am  satisfied.  Perhaps, 
Williams,  you  had  better  go  to  bed.  My  son  and  I 
have  something  to  talk  of,  now  I  feel  myself." 

"  I'll  go  light  the  fire,  and  get  you  a  cup  of  tea — 
oh  Lord !  what  Miss  Susan  would  say  if  she  knew  you 
were  here,  and  had  got  such  a  fright ! "  cried  the  old 
servant ;  "  but  now  you're  composed,  there's  nothing 
as'll  do  you  good  like  a  cup  of  tea." 

"  Thank  you — yes  ;  make  it  strong,  and  Mr  Arthur 
will  have  some  too,"  said  the  widow  ;  "  and  take  care 
the  kettle  is  boiling ;  and  then,  Williams,  you  must 
not  mind  us,  but  go  to  bed." 

Vincent  threw  down  his  book,  and  stared  at  her 
with  something  of  that  impatience  and  half-contempt 
which  had  before  moved  him.  "  If  the  world  were 
breaking  up,  I  suppose  women  could  still  drink 
tea  !  "  he  said,  bitterly. 

"  Oh,  Arthur,  my  dear  boy,"  cried  his  mother, 
"  don't  you  see  we  must  put  the  best  face  on  it  now  ? 
Everybody  must  not  know  that  Susan  has  been  car- 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  299 

ried  away  by  a 0  God,  forgive  me  !  don't  let  me 

curse  him,  Arthur.  Let  us  get  away  from  Lonsdale, 
dear,  before  we  say  anything.  Words  will  do  no 
good.  Oh,  my  dear  boy,  till  we  know  better,  Mr 
Fordham  is  Susan's  betrothed  husband,  and  he  has 
gone  to  take  care  of  her  to  Carlingford.  Hush — don't 
say  any  more.  I  am  going  to  compose  myself,  Arthur, 
for  my  child's  sake,"  cried  the  mother,  with  a  smile 
of  anguish,  looking  into  her  son's  face.  How  did  she 
drive  those  tears  back  out  of  her  patient  eyes  ?  how 
did  she  endure  to  talk  to  the  old  servant  about  what 
was  to  be  done  to-morrow — and  how  the  sick  lady  was 
next  door — till  the  excited  and  shivering  attendant 
could  be  despatched  up-stairs  and  got  out  of  the  way  ? 
Woman's  weaker  nature,  that  could  mingle  the  com- 
mon with  the  great;  or  woman's  strength,  that  could 
endure  all  things  —  which  was  it?  The  young  man, 
sitting  by  in  a  sullen,  intolerable  suspense,  waiting 
till  it  was  practicable  to  rush  away  through  the  creep- 
ing gloom  of  night  after  the  fugitives,  could  no  more 
understand  these  phenomena  of  love  and  woe,  than 
he  could  translate  the  distant  mysteries  of  the 
spheres. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 


Eaely  morning,  but  black  as  midnight ;  bitter  cold, 
if  bitterer  cold  could  be,  than  that  to  which  they 
entered  when  they  first  came  to  the  deserted  house  . 
the  little  parlour,  oh,  so  woefully  trim  and  tidy, 
with  the  fire  laid  ready  for  lighting,  which  even  the 
mother,  anxious  about  her  son,  had  not  had  the  heart 
to  light ;  the  candle  mi  the  table  between  them  light- 
ing dimly  this  speechless  interval ;  some  shawls  laid 
ready  to  take  with  them  when  they  went  back  again 
to  the  earliest  train  ;  Mrs  Vincent  sitting  by  with 
her  bonnet  on,  and  its  veil  drooping  half  over  her 
pale  face,  sometimes  rousing  up  to  cast  hidden  looks 
of  anxiety  at  her  son,  sometimes  painfully  saying 
something  with  a  vain  effort  at  smiling — what  o'clock 
was  it?  when  did  lie  think  they  could  reach  town? 
— little  ineffectual  attempts  at  the  common  inter- 
course, which  seemed  somehow  to  deepen  the  dread- 
ful silence,  the  shivering  cold,  the  utter  desolation 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  301 

of  the  scene.  Such  a  night ! — its  minutes  were  hours 
as  they  stole  by  noiseless  in  murderous  length  and 
tedium — and  the  climax  of  its  misery  was  in  the 
little  start  with  which  Mrs  Vincent  now  and  then 
woke  up  out  of  her  own  thoughts  to  make  that  piti- 
ful effort  to  talk  to  her  son. 

They  were  sitting  thus,  waiting,  not  even  venturing 
to  look  at  each  other,  when  a  sudden  sound  startled 
them.  Nothing  more  than  a  footstep  outside  ap- 
proaching softly.  A  footstep  —  surely  two  steps. 
They  could  hear  them  far  off  in  this  wonderful  still- 
ness, making  steady  progress  near — nearer.  Mrs 
Vincent  rose  up,  stretching  her  little  figure  into  a 
preternatural  hysteric  semblance  of  height.  Who 
was  it?  Two  people — surely  women  —  and  what 
women  could  be  abroad  at  such  an  hour  ?  One 
lighter,  one  heavier,  irregular  as  female  steps  are, 
coming  this  way — this  way  !  Her  heart  fluttered  in 
the  widow's  ears  with  a  sound  that  all  but  obliterated 
those  steps  which  still  kept  advancing.  Hark,  sud- 
den silence !  a  pause — then,  oh  merciful  heaven, 
could  it  be  true  ?  a  tinkle  at  the  bell — a  summons  at 
the  closed  door. 

Mrs  Vincent  had  flown  forth  with  open  arms — 
with  eyes  blinded.  The  poor  soul  thought  nothing 
less  than  that  it  was  her  child  returned.  They  carried 
her  back  speechless,  in  a  disappointment  too  cruel 


302       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

and  1  utter  to  have  expression.  Two  women — one 
sober,  sleepy,  nervous,  and  full  of  trouble,  unknown 
to  either  mother  or  son — the  other  with  a  certain 
dreadful  inspiration  in  her  dark  face,  and  eyes  that 
gleamed  out  of  it  as  if  they  had  concentrated  into 
them  all  the  blackness  of  the  night. 

"You  are  going  back,  and  so  am  I,"  Mrs  Hilyard 
said.  "I  came  to  say  a  word  to  you  before  T  go 
away.  If  I  have  been  anyhow  the  cause,  forgive  me. 
God  knows,  of  all  things  in  the  world  the  last  I 
dreamt  of  was  to  injure  this  good  woman  or  invade 
her  innocent  house.  Do  you  know  where  they  have 
gone? — did  she  leave  any  letters? — Tell  me.  She 
shall  be  precious  to  me  as  my  own,  if  I  find  them 
out." 

Mrs  Vincent  freed  herself  from  her  son's  arms,  and 
got  \ip  with  her  blanched  face.  "My  daughter — 
followed  me — to  Carlingford,"  she  said,  in  broken 
words,  with  a  determination  which  sat  almost  awful 
on  her  weakness.  "  We  have  had  the  great  misfor- 
tune— to  cross  each  other — on  the  way.  I  am  going 
—  after  her — directly.  I  am  not  afraid  —  of  my 
Susan.     She  is  all  safe  in  my  son's  house/' 

The  others  exchanged  alarmed  looks,  as  they  might 
have  done  had  a  child  suddenly  assumed  the  aspect 
of  a  leader.  She,  who  could  scarcely  steady  her 
trembling  limbs  to  stand  upright,  faced  their  looks 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  303 

with  a  dumb  denial  of  her  own  anguish.  "  It  is — 
very  unfortunate — but  I  am  not  anxious,"  she  said, 
slowly,  with  a  ghastly  smile.  Human  nature  could 
do  no  more.  She  sank  down  again  on  her  scat,  but 
still  faced  them — absolute  in  her  self-restraint,  reject- 
ing pity.  Not  even  tears  should  fall  upon  Susan's 
sweet  name — not  while  her  mother  lived  to  defend  it 
in  life  and  death. 

The  Carlingford  needlewoman  stood  opposite  her, 
gazing  with  eyes  that  went  beyond  that  figure,  and 
yet  dwelt  upon  it,  at  so  wonderful  a  spectacle.  Many 
a  terrible  secret  of  life  unknown  to  the  minister's 
gentle  mother  throbbed  in  her  heart ;  but  she  stood 
in  a  pause  of  wonder  before  that  weaker  woman. 
The  sight  of  her  stayed  the  passionate  current  for  a 
moment,  and  brought  the  desperate  woman  to  a  pause. 
Then  she  turned  to  the  young  man,  who  stood  speech- 
less by  his  mother's  side — 

"  You  are  a  priest,  and  yet  you  do  not  curse,"  she 
said.  "  Is  God  as  careless  of  a  curse  as  of  a  bless- 
ing ?  She  thinks  He  will  save  the  Innocents  yet. 
She  does  not  know  that  He  stands  by  like  a  man,  and 
sees  them  murdered,  and  shines  and  rains  all  the  same. 
God !  No — He  never  interferes.  Good-bye,"  she  added, 
suddenly,  holding  out  to  him  the  thin  hand  upon 
which,  even  in  that  dreadful  moment,  his  eye  still 
caught  the  traces  of  her  work,  the  scars  of  the  needle, 


304        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

and  stains  of  the  coarse  colour.  "If  you  ever  see 
me  again,  I  shall  be  a  famous  woman,  Mr  Vincent. 
Yon  will  have  a  little  of  the  trail  of  my  glory,  and 
be  able  to  furnish  details  of  my  latter  days.  This 
good  Miss  Smith  here  will  tell  you  of  the  life  it 
was  before  ;  but  if  I  should  make  a  distinguished 
end  after  all,  come  to  see  me  then— never  mind  where. 
I  speak  madly,  to  be  sure,  but  you  don't  understand 
me.  There — not  a  word.  You  preach  very  well, 
but  I  am  beyond  preaching  now — Good-bye." 

"  No,"  said  Vincent,  clutching  her  hand — "  never, 
if  you  go  with  that  horrible  intention  in  your  eyes  ; 
I  will  say  no  farewell  to  such  an  errand  as  this." 

The  eyes  in  their  blank  brightness  paused  at  him 
for  a  moment  before  they  passed  to  the  vacant  air  on 
which  they  were  always  fixed — paused  with  a  certain 
glance  of  troubled  amusement,  the  lightning  of  former 
days.  "  You  flatter  me,"  she  said,  steadily,  with  the 
old  habitual  movement  of  her  mouth.  "  It  is  years 
since  anybody  has  taken  the  trouble  to  read  any 
intention  in  my  eyes.  But  don't  you  understand  yel 
that  a  woman's  intention  is  the  last  thing  she  is  likely 
to  perform  in  this  world?  We  do  have  meanings 
now  and  then,  we  poor  creatures,  but  they  seldom 
come  to  much.     Good-bye,  good-bye  !  " 

"  You  cannot  look  at  me,"  said  Vincent,  with  a 
conscious  incoherence,  reason  or  argument  being  out 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  305 

of  the  question.     "  What  is  it  you  see  behind  there  ? 
Where  are  you  looking  with  those  dreadful  eyes  ?  " 

She  brought  her  eyes  back  as  he  spoke,  with  an 
evident  effort,  to  fix  them  upon  his  face.  "  I  once 
remarked  upon  your  high-breeding,"  said  the  strange 
woman.  "A  prince  could  not  have  shown  finer 
manners  than  you  did  in  Carlingford,  Mr  Vincent. 
Don't  disappoint  me  now.  If  I  see  ghosts  behind 
you,  what  then  ?  Most  people  that  have  lived  long 
enough,  come  to  see  ghosts  before  they  die.  But  this 
is  not  exactly  the  time  for  conversation,  however 
interesting  it  may  be.  If  you  and  I  ever  see  each 
other  again,  things  will  have  happened  before  then  ; 
you  too,  perhaps,  may  have  found  the  ghosts  out.  I 
appoint  you  to  come  to  see  me  after  you  have  come 
to  life  again,  in  the  next  world.  Good-night.  I 
don't  forget  that  you  gave  me  your  blessing  when  we 
parted  last." 

She  was  turning  away  when  Mrs  Vincent  rose, 
steadying  herself  by  the  chair,  and  put  a  timid  hand 
upon  the  stranger's  arm.  "  I  don't  know  who  you 
arc,"  said  the  widow;  "it  is  all  a  strange  jumble; 
but  I  am  an  older  woman  than  you,  and  a — a  minis- 
ter's wife.  You  have  something  on  your  mind.  My 
son  is  frightened  you  will  do  something — I  cannot 
tell  what.  You  are  much  cleverer  than  I  am  ;  but  I 
am,  as  I  say,  an  older  woman,  and  a — a  minister's 

VOL.  I.  U 


306        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

wife.  I  am  not — afraid  of  anything.  Yes!  I  know 
God  does  not  always  save  the  Innocents,  as  you  sa\ 
— lmt  Ee  knows  why,  though  we  don't.  Will  yon 
go  with  me?  If  you  have  gone  astray  when  yon 
were  young,"  said  the  mild  woman,  raising  up  her 
little  figure  with  an  ineffable  simplicity,  "I  will 
never  ask  any  questions,  and  it  will  not  matter — for 
everybody  I  care  for  knows  me.  The  dreadful  things 
you  think  of  will  not  happen  if  we  go  together.  I 
was  a  minister's  wife  thirty  years.  I  know  human 
nature  and  God's  goodness.     Come  with  me." 

"Mother,  mother!  what  are  you  saying?"  cried 
Vincent,  who  had  all  the  time  been  making  vain 
attempts  to  interrupt  this  extraordinary  speech.  Mrs 
Hilyard  put  him  away  with  a  quick  gesture.  She 
took  hold  of  the  widow's  hand  with  that  firm,  sup 
porting,  compelling  pressure  under  which,  the  day 
before.  Mrs  Vincent  had  yielded  up  all  her  secrets. 
She  turned  her  eyes  out  of  vacancy  to  the  little  pale 
woman  who  offered  her  this  protection.  A  sud- 
den mist  surprised  those  gleaming  eyes — a  sudden 
thrill  ran  through  the  thin,  slight,  iron  figure,  upon 
which  fatigue  and  excitement  seemed  to  make  no 
impression.     The  rock  was  stricken  at  last, 

"  No — no,"  she  sighed,  with  a  voice  that  trembled. 
"No — no!  the  lamb  and  the  lion  do  not  go  together 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  307 

yet  in  this  poor  world.  No — no — no.  I  wonder 
what  tears  have  to  do  in  my  eyes  ;  ah,  God  in  the 
skies !  if  you  ever  do  miracles,  do  one  for  this 
woman,  and  save  her  child  !  Praying  and  raying 
are  strange  fancies  for  me — I  must  go  away  ;  but 
first,"  she  said,  still  holding  Mrs  ATincent  fast — "a 
woman  is  but  a  woman  after  all— if  it  is  more  hon- 
ourable to  be  a  wicked  man's  wife  than  to  have  gone 
astray,  as  you  call  it,  then  there  is  no  one  in  the 
world  who  can  breathe  suspicion  upon  me.  Ask 
this  other  good  woman  here,  who  knows  all  about 
me,  but  fears  me,  like  you.  Fears  me  !  "What  do 
you  suppose  there  can  be  to  fear,  Mr  Vincent,  you 
who  are  a  scholar,  and  know  better  than  these  soft 
women,"  said  Mrs  Hilyard,  suddenly  dropping  the 
widow's  hand,  and  turning  round  upon  the  young 
minister,  witb  an  instant  tli rowing  off  of  all  emotion, 
which  had  the  strangest  horrifying  effect  upon  the 
little  agitated  company,  "in  a  woman  who  was  born 
to  the  name  of  Rachel  Russell,  the  model  English 
wife?  Will  the  world  ever  believe  harm,  do  you 
imagine,  of  such  a  name  ?  I  will  take  refuge  in  my 
ancestress.  But  we  go  different  ways,  and  have 
different  ends  to  accomplish,"  she  continued,  with  a 
sudden  returning  gleam  of  the  subdued  horror — 
"  Good-night — good-night !  " 


308  CHRONICLES   OF    CARLINGFOHD  : 

"Oli,  stop  her,  Arthur — stop  her! — Susan  will  be 
at  Carlingfonl  when  we  get  there;  Susan  will  go 
nowhere  else  but  to  her  mother,"  cried  Mrs  Vincent, 
as  the  door  closed  on  the  nocturnal  visitors — "  I  am 

as  sure — as  sure !     Oh,  my  dear,  do  you  think  1 

can  have  any  doubt  of  my  own  child  ?  As  for  Susan 
going  astray — or  being  carried  off — or  falling  into 
wickedness — Arthur  !  "  said  his  mother,  putting  back 
her  veil  from  her  pale  face,  "now  I  have  got  over 
this  dreadful  night,  I  know  better — nobody  must 
breathe  such  a  thing  to  me.  Tell  her  so,  dear — tell 
her  so  ! — call  her  back — they  will  be  at  Carlingford 
when  we  get  there  !  " 

Vincent  drew  his  mother's  arm  through  his  own, 
and  led  her  out  into  the  darkness,  which  was  morn- 
ing and  no  longer  night.  "  A  few  hours  longer  and 
we  shall  see,"  he  said,  with  a  hard-drawn  breath. 
Into  that  darkness  Mrs  Hilyard  and  her  companion 
had  disappeared.  There  was  another  line  of  railway 
within  a  little  distance  of  Lonsdale,  but  Vincent  was 
at  pains  not  to  see  his  fellow-travellers  as  he  placed 
his  mother  once  more  in  a  carriage,  and  once  nunc 
caught  the  eye  of  the  man  whose  curious  look  had 
startled  him.  When  the  grey  morning  began  t<» 
dawn,  it  revealed  two  ashen  faces,  equally  speechless 
and  absorbed   with   thoughts   which   neither   dared 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  309 

communicate  to  the  other.  They  did  not  even  look 
at  each  other,  as  the  merciful  noise  and  motion 
wrapped  them  in  that  little  separate  sphere  of  being. 
One  possibility  and  no  more  kept  a  certain  cohe- 
rence in  both  their  thoughts,  otherwise  lost  in  wild 
chaos — horrible  suspense — an  uncertainty  worse  than 
death. 


CHAPTER     XVIII. 


It  was  the  very  height  of  day  when  the  travellers 
arrived  in  Carlingford  It  would  be  vain  to  attempt 
to  describe  their  transit  through  London  in  the  bust- 
ling sunshine  of  the  winter  morning  after  the  vigil  of 
that  night,  and  in  the  frightful  suspense  and  excite- 
ment of  their  minds.  Vincent  remembered,  for  yeara 
after,  certain  cheerful  street  -  corners,  round  which 
they  turned  on  their  way  from  one  station  to  another, 
with  shudders  of  recollection,  and  an  intense  consci- 
ousness of  all  the  life  circulating  about  them,  even  to 
the  attitudes  of  the  boys  that  swept  the  crossings, 
and  their  contrast  with  each  other.  His  mother 
made  dismal  attempts  now  and  then  to  say  some- 
thing ;  that  he  was  looking  pale  ;  that  after  all  he 
could  yet  preach,  and  begin  his  course  on  the 
Miracles ;  that  it  would  be  such  a  comfort  to  rest 
when  they  got  home  ;  but  at  last  became  inaudible, 
though  he  knew  by  her  bending  across  to  him,  and 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  311 

the  motion  of  those  parched  lips  with  which  she  still 
tried  to  smile,  that  the  widow  still  continued  to  make 
those  pathetic  little  speeches  without  knowing  that 
she  had  become  speechless  in  the  rising  tide  of  her 
agony.  But  at  last  they  reached  Carlingford,  where 
everything  was  at  its  brightest,  all  the  occupations  of 
life  afloat  in  the  streets,  and  sunshine,  lavish  though 
ineffectual,  brightening  the  whole  aspect  of  the  town. 
When  they  emerged  from  the  railway,  Mrs  Vincent 
took  her  son's  arm,  and  for  the  last  time  made  some 
remark  with  a.  ghastly  smile — but  no  sound  came 
from  her  lips.  They  walked  up  the  sunshiny  streel 
together  with  such  silent  speed  as  would  have  been 
frightful  to  look  at  had  anybody  known  whal  was  in 
their  hearts.  Mrs  Pigeon,  who  was  coming  along  the 
other  side,  crossed  over  on  purpose  to  accost  the 
minister  and  be  introduced  to  his  mother,  but  was 
driven  frantic  by  the  total  blank  unconsciousness 
with  which  the  two  swept  past  her;  "taking  no  more 
notice  than  if  he  had  never  set  eyes  on  me  in  his 
born  days  '  "  as  she  described  it  afterwards.  The 
door  of  the  house  where  Vincent  lived  was  opened  to 
them  briskly  by  the  little  maid  in  holiday  attire; 
everything  wore  the  most  sickening,  oppressive 
brightness  within  in  fresh  Saturday  cleanliness. 
Vincent  half  carried  his  mother  up  the  steps,  and 
held  fast  in  his  own  to  support  her  the  hand  which 


312  CHE0NICLE8   OF   CAULINGFORD  : 

he  had  drawn  tightly  through  his  arm.  "  Is  there 
any  one  here  ?  Has  anybody  come  for  me  since  I 
left?"  he  asked,  with  the  sound  of  his  own  worda 
ringing  shrilly  into  his  ears.  "Please,  sir,  Mr  Tozer'a 
been,"  said  the  girl,  alertly,  with  smiling  confidence. 
She  could  not  comprehend  the  groan  with  which  the 
young  man  startled  all  the  clear  and  sunshiny  atmo- 
sphere, nor  the  sudden  rustle  of  the  little  figure 
beside  him,  which  moved  somehow,  swaying  with  the 
words  as  if  they  were  a  wind.  "  Mother,  you  are 
going  to  faint !  "  cried  Vincent — and  the  little  maid 
flew  in  terror  to  call  her  mistress,  and  bring  a  glass 
of  water.  But  when  she  came  back,  the  mother  and 
son  were  no  longer  in  the  bright  hall  with  its  newly 
cleaned  wainscot  and  whitened  floor.  When  she 
followed  them  up-stairs  with  the  water,  it  was  the 
minister  who  had  dropped  into  the  easy-chair  with 
his  face  hidden  on  the  table,  and  his  mother  was 
standing  beside  him.  Mrs  Vincent  looked  up  when 
the  girl  came  in  and  said,  "Thank  you — that  will 
do,"  looking  in  her  face,  and  not  at  what  she  carried. 
She  was  of  a  dreadful  paleness,  and  looked  with  eyes 
that  were  terrible  to  that  wondering  observer  upon 
the  little  attendant.  "  Perhaps  there  have  been  some 
letters  or  messages,"  said  Mrs  Vincent.  "  We — we 
expected  somebody  to  come  ;  think !  a  young  lady 
came  here  ? — and  when  she  found  we  were  gone " 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  313 

"  Only  Miss  Phoebe  ! "  said  the  girl,  in  amazement 
— "  to  say  as  her  Ma " 

"  Only  Miss  Phcebe ! "  repeated  the  widow,  as  if 
she  did  not  comprehend  the  words.  Then  she 
turned  to  her  son,  and  smoothed  down  the  ruffled 
locks  on  his  head  ;  then  held  out  her  hand  again  to 
arrest  the  girl  as  she  was  going  away.  "  Has  your 
mistress  got  anything  in  the  house,"  she  asked — 
"  any  soup  or  cold  meat,  or  anything  ?  "Would  you 
bring  it  up,  please,  directly? — soup  would  perhaps 
be  best — or  a  nice  chop.  Ask  what  she  has  got,  and 
bring  it  up  on  a  tray.  You  need  not  lay  the  cloth — 
only  a  tray  with  a  napkin.  Yes,  I  see  you  know 
what  I  mean." 

"Mother!"  cried  Vincent,  raising  his  head  in 
utter  fright  as  the  maid  left  the  room.  He  thought 
in  the  shock  his  mothers  gentle  wits  had  gone. 

"  You  have  eaten  nothing,  dear,  since  we  left,"  she 
said,  with  a  heartbreaking  smile.  "  I  am  not  going 
crazy,  Arthur.  0  no,  no,  my  dear  boy !  I  will  not 
go  crazy;  but  you  must  eat  something,  and  not  be 
killed  too.  Susan  is  not  here,"  said  Mrs  Vincent, 
with  a  ghastly,  wistful  look  round  the  room ;  "  but 
we  are  not  going  to  distrust  her  at  the  very  first 
moment,  far  less  her  Maker,  Arthur.  Oh,  my  dear, 
I  must  not  speak,  or  something  will  happen  to  me  ; 
and  nothing  must  happen  to  you  or  me  till  we  have 


314       CHRONICLKS  OF  CARLIXGFORD  : 

found  your  sister.  You  must  eat  when  it  comes, 
and  then  you  must  go  away.  Perhaps,"  said  Mjb 
Vincent,  sitting  down  and  looking  her  son  direct  in 
the  eyes,  as  if  to  read  any  suggestion  that  could  arise 
there,  "she  has  lost  her  way  : — perhaps  she  missed 
one  of  these  dreadful  trains — perhaps  she  got  on 
the  wrong  railway,  Arthur.  Oh,  my  dear  boy,  you 
must  take  something  to  cat,  and  then  you  must  go 
and  bring  Susan  home.  She  has  nobody  to  take  care 
of  her  but  you." 

Vincent  returned  his  mother's  look  with  a  wild 
inquiring  gaze,  but  with  his  lips  he  said  "Yes," 
not  daring  to  put  in  words  the  terrible  thoughts  in 
his  heart.  The  two  said  nothing  to  each  other  of 
the  horror  that  possessed  them  both,  or  of  the 
die; id ful  haze  of  uncertainty  in  which  that  Susan 
whom  her  brother  was  to  go  and  bring  home  as  if 
from  an  innocent  visit,  was  now  enveloped.  Their 
eyes  spoke  differently  as  they  looked  into  each 
other,  and  silently  withdrew  again,  each  from  each, 
not  daring  to  communicate  further.  Just  then  a 
slighl  noise  came  below,  to  the  door.  Mrs  Vincent 
stood  up  directly  in  an  agony  of  listening,  trembling 
all  over.  To  be  sure  it  was  nothing.  When  nothing 
came  of  it,  the  poor  mother  sank  back  again  with 
a  piteous  patience,  which  it  was  heartbreaking  to 
look  at ;    and  Vincent  returned   from   the  window 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  315 

which  he  had  thrown  open  in  time  to  see  Phoebe 
Tozer  disappear  from  the  door.  They  avoided  each 
other's  eyes  now  ;  one  or  two  heavy  sobs  broke 
forth  from  Mrs  Vincent's  breast,  and  her  son  walked 
with  a  dreadful  funereal  step  from  one  end  of  the 
room  to  the  other.  Not  even  the  consolation  of  con- 
sulting together  what  was  to  be  done,  or  what  might 
have  happened,  was  left  them.  They  dared  not  put 
their  position  into  words — dared  not  so  much  as 
inquire  in  their  thoughts  where  Susan  was,  or  whal 
had  befallen  her.  She  was  to  be  brought  home  ; 
but  whence  or  from  what  abyss  neither  ventured  to 
say. 

Upon  their  misery  the  little  maid  entered  again 
with  her  tray,  and  the  hastily  prepared  refreshment 
which  Mrs  Vincent  had  ordered  for  her  son.  The 
girl's  eyes  were  round  and  staring  with  wonder  and 
curiosity;  but  she  was  aware,  with  female  instinct, 
that  the  minister's  mother,  awful  little  figure,  with 
lynx  eyes,  which  nothing  escaped,  was  watching 
her,  and  her  observations  were  nervous  accordingly. 
"Please,  sir,  it's  a  chop,"  said  the  girl — "please,  sir, 
missus  sent  to  know  was  the  other  gentleman 
a-coming? — and  please,  if  he  is,  there  ain't  nowhere 
as  missus  knows  of,  as  he  can  sleep — with  the  lad)', 
and  you,  and  all ;  and  the  other  lodgers  as  well " — 
said  the  handmaiden  with  a  sigh,  as  she  set  down 


316  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLINGFORD  ! 

her  tray  and  made  a  desperate  endeavour  to  turn 
her  back  upon  Mrs  Vincent,  and  to  read  some  inter- 
pretation of  all  this  in  the  unguarded  countenance 
of  the  minister;  "and  please,  am  I  to  bring  up  the 
Wooster  sauce,  and  would  the  lady  like  some  lea  01 
anvtliink  ?  And  missus  would  be  particklar  obliged 
if  you  would  say.  Miss  Phcebe's  been  to  ask  the 
gentleman  to  tea,  but  where  he's  to  sleep,  missus 
says " 

"  Yes,  yes,  to  be  sure,"  said  Vincent,  impatiently ; 
"  he  can  have  my  room,  tell  your  mistress — that  will 
do — we  don't  want  anything  more." 

"Mr  Vincent  is  going  to  leave  town  again  this 
afternoon,"  said  his  mother.  "Tell  your  mistress 
that  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  a  little  conversation 
with  her  after  my  son  goes  away — and  you  had 
better  bring  the  sauce — but  it  would  have  saved  you 
trouble  and  been  more  sensible,  if  you  had  put  it  on 
the  tray  in  the  first  place.  Oh,  Arthur,"  cried  his 
mother  again,  when  she  had  seen  the  little  maid 
fairly  out — "  do  be  a  little  prudent,  my  dear !  When 
a  minister  lodges  with  one  of  his  flock,  he  must 
think  of  appearances — and  if  it  were  only  for  my 
dear  child's  sake,  Arthur!  Susan  must  not  be  spoken 
of  through  our  anxiety  ;  oh,  my  child  ! — Where  can 
she  be? — Where  can  she  be  ?" 

"  Mother  dear,  you  must  keep  up,  or  everything 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  317 

is  lost ! "  cried  Vincent,  for  the  first  time  moved  to 
the  depths  of  his  heart  by  that  outcry  of  despair. 
He  came  to  her  and  held  her  trembling  hands,  and 
laid  his  face  upon  them  without  any  kiss  or  caress, 
that  close  clinging  touch  of  itself  expressing  best 
the  fellowship  of  their  wretchedness.  But  Mrs  Vin- 
cent put  her  son  away  from  her,  when  the  door 
again  bounced  open.  "  My  dear  boy,  here  is  the 
sauce,  and  you  must  eat  your  chop,"  she  said,  get- 
ting up  and  drawing  forward  a  chair  for  him;  her 
hands,  which  trembled  so,  grew  steady  as  she  put 
everything  in  order,  cut  the  bread,  and  set  his  plate 
before  him.  "Oh,  eat  something,  Arthur  dear — 
you  must,  or  you  cannot  go  through  it,"  said  the 
widow,  with  her  piteous  smile.  Then  she  sat  down 
at  the  table  by  him  in  her  defensive  armour.  The 
watchful  eyes  of  "  the  flock  "  were  all  around  spying 
upon  the  dreadful  calamity  which  had  overwhelmed 
them  ;  at  any  moment  the  college  companion  whom 
Vincent  had  sent  for  might  come  in  upon  them  in 
all  the  gaiety  of  his  holiday.  What  they  said  had  to 
be  said  with  this  consciousness — and  the  mother,  in 
the  depth  of  her  suspense  and  terror,  sat  like  a 
queen  inspected  on  all  sides,  and  with  possible 
traitors  round  her,  but  resolute  and  self-command- 
ing in  her  extremity,  determined  at  least  to  be  true 
to  herself. 


318        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

"Arthur,  can  you  think  where  to  go?"  she  said, 
alter  a  little  interval,  almost  under  her  breath. 

"To  London  first,"  said  Vincent — "to  inquire 
after — him,  curse  him  !  don't  say  anything,  mother — 
I  am  only  a  man  after  all.  Then,  according  to  the 
information  I  get. — God  help  us! — if  I  don't  get 
back  before  another  Sunday " 

Mrs  Vincent  gave  a  convulsive  start,  which  shook 
the  table  against  which  she  was  leaning,  and  fell 
to  shivering  as  if  in  a  fit  of  ague.  "  Oh,  Arthur, 
Arthur,  what  are  you  saying?  Another  Sunday  !" 
she  exclaimed,  with  a  cry  of  despair.  To  live  another 
day  seemed  impossible  in  that  horror.  But  self- 
restraint  was  natural  to  the  woman  who  had  "been, 
as  she  said,  a  minister's  wife  for  thirty  years.  She 
clasped  her  hands  tight,  and  took  up  her  burden 
again.  "I  will  see  Mr  Beecher  when  he  comes,  dear, 
and — and  speak  to  him,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh,  "and 
I  will  see  the  Tozers  and — and  your  people,  Arthur  ; 
and  if  it  should  be  God's  will  to  keep  us  so  long  in 
suspense,  if — if — 1  can  keep  alive,  dear,  I  may  be  of 
some  use.  Oh,  Arthur,  Arthur,  the  Lord  have  pity 
upon  us  !  if  my  darling  comes  back,  will  she  come 
here  or  will  she  go  home  ?  Don't  you  think  she 
will  come  here  ?  If  I  go  back  to  Lonsdale,  I  will 
not  be  able  to  rest  for  thinking  she  is  at  Carling- 
ford  ;  and  if  I  stay — oh,  Arthur,  where  do  you  think 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  319 

Susan  will  go  to  ?  She  might  be  afraid  to  see  you, 
and  think  }rou  would  be  angry,  but  she  never  coidd 
distrust  her  poor  mother,  who  Mas  the  first  to  put 
her  in  danger  ;  and  to  think  of  my  dear  child  going 
either  there  or  here,  and  not  finding  me,  Arthur ! 
My  dear,  you  are  not  eating  anything.  You  can 
never  go  through  it  all  without  some  support.  For 
my  sake,  try  to  eat  a  little,  my  own  boy  :  and  oh, 
Arthur,  what  must  I  do  V 

"These  Tozers  and  people  wil]  worry  you  to  death 
if  you  stay  here,"  said  the  minister,  with  an  impatient 
sigh,  as  he  thought  of  his  own  difficulties;  "but  I 
must  not  lose  time  by  going  back  with  you  to  Lons- 
dale, and  you  must  not  travel  by  yourself,  and  this 
is  more  in  the  way,  whatever  happens.  Send  word 
to  Lonsdale  that  you  are  to  have  a  message  by  tele- 
graph immediately — without  a  moment's  loss  of  time 
— if  she  comes  back." 

"You  might  say  when,  Arthur,  not  if,"  said  his 
mother,  with  a  little  flash  of  tender  resentment — 
then  she  gave  way  for  the  moment,  and  leaned  her 
head  against  his  arm  and  held  him  fast  with  that 
pressure  and  close  clasp  which  spoke  more  than  any 
words.  When  she  raised  her  pale  face  again,  it  was 
to  entreat  him  once  more  to  eat.  "  Try  to  take  some- 
thing, if  it  were  only  a  mouthful,  for  Susan's  sake," 
pleaded  the  widow.     Her  son  made  a  dismal  attempt 


320  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLINGFOK!>  : 

as  she  told  him.  Happy  are  the  houses  that  have 
not  seen  such  dreadful  pretences  of  meals  where  tears 
were  the  only  possible  food!  When  she  saw  him 
fairly  engaged  in  this  desperate  effort  to  take  "  some 
support,"  the  poor  mother  went  away  and  wrote  a 
crafty  female  letter,  which  she  brought  to  him  to 
read.  Pie  would  have  smiled  at  it  had  the  occasion 
been  less  tragic.  It  was  addressed  to  the  minister  of 
"  the  connection  "  at  Lonsdale,  and  set  forth  how  she 
was  detained  at  Carlingford  by  some  family  affairs — 
how  Susan  was  visiting  friends  and  travelling,  and 
her  mother  was  not  sure  where  to  address  her — and 
how  it  would  be  the  greatest  favour  if  he  would  see 
Williams  at  the  cottage,  and  have  a  message  de- 
spatched to  Mrs  Vincent  the  moment  her  daughter 
returned.  "  Do  you  not  think  it  would  be  better  to 
confide  in  him  a  little,  and  tell  him  what  anxiety  we 
are  in?"  said  Vincent,  when  he  read  this  letter.  His 
mother  took  it  out  of  his  hands  with  a  little  cry. 

"  Oh,  Arthur,  though  you  are  her  brother,  you  are 
only  a  man,  and  don't  understand,"  cried  Mrs  Vin- 
cent. "  Nobody  must  have  anything  to  say  about 
my  child.  If  she  comes  to-night,  she  will  come 
here,"  continued  the  poor  mother,  pausing  instinc- 
cively  once  more  to  listen  ;  "  she  might  have  been 
detained  somewhere  ;  she  may  come  at  any  moment 
— at  any  moment,  Arthur  dear  !     Though  these  tele- 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  321 

graphs  frighten  me,  and  look  as  if  they  must  bring 
bad  news,  I  will  send  you  word  directly  when  my 
darling  girl  comes  ;  but  oh,  my  dear,  though  it  is 
dreadful  to  send  you  away,  and  to  think  of  your 
travelling  to-morrow  and  breaking  the  Sunday,  and 
very  likely  your  people  hearing  it — oh,  Arthur,  God 
knows  better,  and  will  not  blame  you  :  and  if  you 
will  not  take  anything  more  to  eat,  you  should  not 
lose  time,  my  dearest  boy  !  Don't  look  at  me,  Arthur 
— don't  say  good-bye.  Perhaps  you  may  meet  her 
before  you  leave — perhaps  you  may  not  need  to  go 
away.     Oh,  Arthur  dear,  don't  lose  any  more  time!" 

"  It  is  scarcely  time  for  the  train  yet,"  said  the 
minister,  getting  up  slowly  ;  "  the  world  does  not 
care,  though  our  hearts  are  breaking ;  it  keeps  its 
own  time.  Mother,  good-bye.  God  knows  what  may 
have  happened  before  I  see  you  again." 

"Oh,  Arthur,  say  nothing — say  nothing!  Whal 
can  happen  but  my  child  to  come  home?"  cried  his 
mother,  as  he  clasped  her  hands  and  drew  her  closer 
to  him.  She  leaned  against  her  son's  breast,  which 
heaved  convulsively,  for  one  moment,  and  no  more. 
She  did  not  look  at  him  as  he  went  slowly  out  of  the 
room,  leaving  her  to  the  unspeakable  silence  and 
solitude  in  which  every  kind  of  terror  started  up  and 
crept  about.  But  before  Vincent  had  left  the  house 
his  mother's  anxiety  and  hope  were  once  more  ex- 

vol«  i.  x 


322        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLIXGFORD  : 

cited  to  passion.  Some  one  knocked  and  entered ; 
there  was  a  sound  of  voices  and  steps  on  the  stair 
audibly  approaching  this  room  in  which  she  sat  -with 
her  fears.  But  it  was  not  Susan ;  it  Mas  a  young 
man  of  Arthur's  own  age,  with  his  travelling-bag  in 
his  hand,  and  his  sermons  in  his  pocket.  He  had  no 
suspicion  that  the  sight  of  him  brought  the  chill  of 
despair  to  her  heart  as  he  went  up  to  shake  hands 
with  his  friend's  mother.  "  Vincent  would  not  come 
back  to  introduce  me,"  said  Mr  Beecher,  "  but  he 
said  I  should  find  you  here.  I  have  known  him 
many  years,  and  it  is  a  great  pleasure  to  make  your 
acquaintance.  Sometimes  he  used  to  show  me  your 
letters  years  ago.  Is  Miss  Vincent  with  you  ?  It  is 
pleasant  to  get  out  of  town  for  a  little,  even  though 
one  has  to  preach  ;  and  they  will  all  be  interested  in 
'Omerton  to  hear  how  Vincent  is  getting  on.  Made 
quite  a  commotion  in  the  world,  they  say,  with  these 
lectures  of  his.  I  always  knew  he  would  make  an  'it 
if  he  had  fair-play." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Mrs  Vincent. 
"  I  have  just  come  up  from  Lonsdale,  and  everything 
is  in  a  confusion.  "When  people  grow  old,"  said  the 
poor  widow,  busying  herself  in  collecting  the  broken 
pieces  of  bread  which  Arthur  had  crumbled  down 
by  way  of  pretending  to  eat,  "they  feel  fatigue  and 
being  put  out  of  their  way  more  than  they  ought. 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  323 

What  can  I  get  for  you  ?  will  you  have  a  glass  of 
wine,  and  dinner  as  soon  as  it  can  be  ready?  My 
son  had  to  go  away." 

"Preaching  somewhere?"  asked  the  lively  Mr 
Beecher. 

"  IST-no  ;  he  has  some — private  business  to  attend 
to,"  said  Mrs  Vincent,  with  a  silent  groan  in  her  heart. 

"Ah! — going  to  be  married,  I  suppose?"  said  the 
man  from  'Omerton  ;  "  that's  the  natural  consequence 
after  a  man  get's  a  charge.  Miss  Vincent  is  not  with 
you,  I  think  you  said  ?  I'll  take  a  glass  of  wine, 
thank  you  ;  and  I  hear  one  of  the  flock  has  sent  over 
to  ask  me  to  tea — Mr  Tozer,  a  leading  man,  I  believe, 
among  our  people  here,"  added  Mr  Beecher,  with  a 
little  complacence.  "  It's  very  pleasant  when  a  con- 
gregation is  hospitable  and  friendly.  "When  a  pastor's 
popular,  you  see,  it  always  reacts  upon  his  brethren. 
May  I  ask  if  you  are  going  to  Mr  Tozer's  to  tea  to- 
night ?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  faltered  poor  Mrs  Vincent,  whom  pru- 
dence kept  from  adding,  " heaven  forbid  ! "  "They 
— did  not  know  I  was  here,"  she  continued,  faintly, 
turning  away  to  ring  the  bell.  Mr  Beecher,  who 
flattered  himself  on  his  penetration,  nodded  slightly 
when  her  back  Avas  turned.  "Jealous  that  they've 
asked  me,"  said  the  preacher,  with  a  lively  thrill  of 
human  satisfaction.    How  was  he  to  know  the  blank 


324        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

of  misery,  the  wretched  feverish  activity  of  thought, 
that  possessed  that  mild  little  woman,  as  she  gave 
her  orders  about  the  removal  of  the  tray,  and  the 
dinner  which  already  was  being  prepared  for  the 
stranger  ?  But  the  lively  young  man  from  'Omcrton 
perceived  that  there  was  something  wrong.  Yin- 
cent's  black  looks  when  he  met  him  at  the  door,  and 
the  exceeding  promptitude  of  that  invitation  to  tea, 
were  two  and  two  which  he  could  put  together.  He 
concluded  directly  that  the  pastor,  though  he  had 
made  "  an  'it,"  was  not  found  to  suit  the  connection 
in  Carlingford  ;  and  that  possibly  another  candidate 
for  Salem  might  be  required  ere  long.  "  I  would  not 
injure  Vincent  for  the  world,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  but  if  he  does  not  'it  it,  I  might."  The  thought 
was  not  unpleasant.  Accordingly,  while  Vincent's 
mother  kept  her  place  there  in  the  anguish  of  her 
heart,  thinking  that  perhaps,  even  in  this  dreadful 
extremity,  she  might  be  able  to  do  something  for 
Arthur  with  his  people,  and  conciliate  the  autho- 
rities, her  guest  was  thinking,  if  Vincent  were  to 
leave  Carlingford,  what  a  pleasant  distance  from 
town  it  was,  and  how  very  encouraging  of  the  Tozers 
to  ask  him  to  tea.  It  might  come  to  something  more 
than  preaching  lor  a  friend  ;  and  if  Vincent  did  not 
"  'it  it,"  and  a  change  were  desirable,  nobody  could 
tell  what  might  happen.     All  this  smiling  fabric  the 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  325 

stranger  built  upon  the  discomposed  looks  of  the 
Vincents  and  Phoebe's  invitation  to  tea. 

To  sit  by  him  and  keep  up  a  little  attempt  at  con- 
versation—  to  superintend  his  dinner,  and  tell  him 
what  she  knew  of  Salem  and  her  son's  lectures,  and 
his  success  generally,  as  became  the  minister's  mo- 
ther— was  scarcely  so  hard  as  to  be  left  afterwards, 
when  he  went  out  to  Tozer's,  all  alone  once  more  with 
the  silence,  with  the  sounds  outside,  with  the  steps 
that  seem  to  come  to  the  door,  and  the  carriages 
that  paused  in  the  street,  all  sending  dreadful  thrills 
of  hope  through  poor  Mrs  Vincent's  worn-out  heart. 
Happily,  her  faculties  were  engaged  by  those  fre- 
quent and  oft-repeated  tremors.  In  the  fever  of  her 
anxiety,  always  startled  with  an  expectation  that  at 
last  this  was  Susan,  she  did  not  enter  into  the  darker 
question  where  Susan  might  really  be,  and  what  had 
befallen  the  unhappy  girl.  Half  an  hour  after  Mr 
Beecher  left  her,  Phoebe  Tozer  came  in,  affectionate 
and  anxious,  driving  the  wretched  mother  almost 
wild  by  the  sound  of  her  step  and  the  apparition  of 
her  young  womanhood,  to  beg  and  pray  that  Mrs 
Vincent  would  join  them  at  their  "  friendly  tea." 
"And  so  this  is  Mr  Vincent's  room,"  said  Phcebe, 
with  a  bashful  air ;  "  it  feels  so  strange  to  be  here ! 
and  you  must  be  so  dull  when  he  is  gone.  Oh,  do 
come,  and  let  us  try  to  amuse  you  a  little  ;  though  T 


326 


CHRONICLES    OF    CARLIXGFORD  ! 


am  sure  none  of  us  could  ever  be  such  good  company 
as  the  minister — oh,  not  half,  nor  quarter!"  cried 
Fhcebe.  Even  in  the  midst  of  her  misery,  the  mother 
was  woman  enough  to  think  that  Hicebe  showed  too 
much  interest  in  the  minister.  She  declined  the  in- 
vitation with  gentle  distinctness.  She  did  not  return 
the  enthusiastic  kiss  which  was  bestowed  upon  her. 
"  I  am  very  tired,  thank  you,"  said  Mrs  Vincent. 
"  On  Monday,  if  all  is  well,  I  will  call  to  see  your 
mamma.  I  hope  you  will  not  catch  cold  coming  out 
in  this  thin  dress.  I  am  sure  it  was  very  kind  of 
you  ;  but  I  am  very  tired  to-night.  On — Monday." 
Alas,  Monday !  could  this  horror  last  so  long,  and 
she  not  die  ?  or  would  all  be  well  by  that  time,  and 
Susan  in  her  longing  arms  ?  The  light  went  out  of 
her  eyes,  and  the  breath  from  her  heart,  as  that  dread- 
ful question  stared  her  in  the  face.  She  scarcely  saw 
Phoebe's  withdrawal ;  she  lay  back  in  her  chair  in  a 
kind  of  dreadful  trance,  till  those  stumbling  steps 
and  passing  carriages  began  again,  and  roused  her 
back  into  agonised  life  and  bootless  hope. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 


Vincent  had  shaken  hands  with  his  friend  at  the 
door,  and  hurried  past,  saying  something  about  losing 
the  train,  in  order  to  escape  conversation  ;  but,  with 
the  vivid  perceptions  of  excitement,  he  heard  the 
delivery  of  Phoebe's  message,  and  saw  the  complacence 
with  which  the  Homerton  man  regarded  the  invita- 
tion which  had  anticipated  his  arrival.  The  young 
Nonconformist  had  enough  to  think  of  as  he  took  his 
way  once  more  to  the  railway,  and  tea  at  Mrs  Tozer's 
was  anything  but  attractive  to  his  own  fancy  ;  yet  in 
the  midst  of  his  wretchedness  he  could  not  overcome 
the  personal  sense  of  annoyance  which  this  trifling 
incident  produced.  It  came  like  a  prick  of  irritating 
pain,  to  aggravate  the  dull  horror  which  throbbed 
through  him.  He  despised  himself  for  being  able  to 
think  of  it  at  all,  but  at  the  same  time  it  came  back 
to  him,  darting  unawares  again  and  again  into  his 


328        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLIXGFORD  ! 

thoughts.     Little  as  he  cared  for 'the  entertainments 

and  attention  of  his  flock,  he  was  conscious  of  a  cer- 
tain exasperation  in  discovering  their  eagerness  to 
entertain  another.  He  was  disgusted  with  Phoebe 
for  bringing  the  message,  and  disgusted  with  Beecher 
for  looking  pleased  to  receive  it.  "  Probably  he  thinks 
he  will  supersede  me,"  Vincent  thought,  in  sudden 
ffiists  of  disdain  now  and  then,  with  a  sardonic  smile 
on  his  lip,  waking  up  afterwards  with  a  thrill  of 
deeper  self-disgust,  to  think  that  anything  so  insig- 
nificant had  power  to  move  him.  "When  he  plunged 
off  from  Carlingford  at  last,  in  the  early  falling  dark- 
ness of  the  winter  afternoon,  and  looked  back  upon 
the  few  lights  struggling  red  through  the  evening 
mists,  it  was  with  a  sense  of  belonging  to  the  place 
where  he  had  left  an  interloper  who  might  take  his 
post  over  his  head,  which,  perhaps,  no  other  possible 
stimulant  could  have  given  him.  He  thought  with  a 
certain  pang  of  Salem,  and  that  pulpit  which  was  his 
own,  but  in  which  another  man  should  stand  to- 
morrow, with  a  quickened  thrill  of  something  that 
was  almost  jealousy ;  he  wondered  what  might  be 
the  sentiments  of  the  connection  about  his  deputy — 
perhaps  Brown  and  Pigeon  would  prefer  that  florid 
voice  to  his  own — perhaps  Phoebe  might  find  the 
substitute  more  practicable  than  the  incumbent.  No- 
thing before  had  ever  made  Salem  so  interesting  to 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  329 

the  young  pastor  as  Beecher's  complacence  over  that 
invitation  to  tea. 

But  he  had  much  more  serious  matters  to  consider 
in  his  rapid  journey.  Vincent  was  but  a  man,  though 
he  was  Susan's  brother.  He  did  not  share  those  des- 
perate hopes  which  afforded  a  kind  of  forlorn  comfort 
and  agony  of  expectation  to  his  mother's  heart.  No 
thought  that  Susan  would  come  home  either  to  Car- 
lingford  or  Lonsdale  was  in  his  mind.  In  what  way 
soever  the  accursed  villain,  whom  his  face  blanched 
with  deadly  rage  to  think  of,  had  managed  to  get  her 
in  his  power,  Susan's  sweet  life  was  lost,  her  brother 
knew.  He  gave  her  up  with  unspeakable  anguish 
and  pity  ;  but  he  did  give  her  up,  and  hoped  for  no 
deliverance.  Shame  had  taken  possession  of  that 
image  which  fancy  kept  presenting  in  double  ten- 
derness and  brightness  to  him  as  his  heart  burned  in 
the  darkness.  He  might  find  her  indeed  ;  he  might 
snatch  her  out  of  these  polluting  arms,  and  bring 
home  the  sullied  lily  to  her  mother,  but  never  hence- 
forward could  hope  or  honour  blossom  about  his 
sister's  name.  He  made  up  his  mind  to  this  in  grim 
misery,  with  his  teeth  clenched,  and  a  desperation  of 
rage  and  horror  in  his  heart.  But  in  proportion  to 
his  conviction  that  Susan  would  not  return,  was  his 
eagerness  to  find  her,  and  snatch  her  away.  To  think 
of  her  in  horror  and  despair  was  easier  than  to  think 


330  CHRONICLES    OF    CARLISTGFORD  : 

of  her  deluded  and  happy,  as  might  be — as  most 
probably  was  the  case.  This  latter  possibility  made 
Vincent  frantic.  He  could  scarcely  endure  the  slow- 
ness of  the  motion  which  was  the  highest  pitch  of 
speed  that  skill  and  steam  had  yet  made  possible. 
No  express  train  could  travel  so  fast  as  the  thoughts 
which  went  before  him,  dismal  pioneers  penetrating 
the  most  dread  abysses.  To  think  of  Susan  happy 
in  her  horrible  downfall  and  ruin  was  more  than  flesh 
or  blood  could  bear. 

When  Vincent  reached  town,  he  took  his  way  with- 
out a  moment's  hesitation  to  the  street  in  Piccadilly 
where  he  had  once  sought  Mr  Fordham.  He  ap- 
proached the  place  now  with  no  precautions  ;  he  had 
his  cab  driven  up  to  the  door,  and  boldly  entered  as 
soon  as  it  was  opened.  The  house  was  dark  and  silent 
but  for  the  light  in  the  narrow  hall ;  nobody  there  at 
that  dead  hour,  while  it  was  still  too  early  for  dinner. 
And  it  was  not  the  vigilant  owner  of  the  place,  but  a 
drowsy  helper  in  a  striped  jacket  who  presented  him- 
self at  the  door,  and  replied  to  Vincent's  inquiry  for 
Colonel  Mildmay,  that  the  Colonel  was  not  at  home — 
never  was  at  home1  at  that  hour — but  was  not  unwil- 
ling to  inquire,  if  the  gentleman  would  wait.  Vincent 
put  up  the  collar  of  his  coat  about  his  ears,  and  stood 
back  with  eager  attention,  intently  alive  to  every- 
thing.    Evidently  the  ruler  of  the  house  was  absent 


SALEM   CHAPEL.  331 

as  well  as  the  Colonel.  The  man  lounged  to  the 
staircase  and  shouted  clown,  leaning  upon  the  bannis- 
ters. No  aside  or  concealment  was  possible  in  this 
perfectly  easy  method  of  communication.  With  an 
anxiety  strongly  at  variance  with  the  colloquy  thus 
going  on,  and  an  intensification  of  all  his  faculties 
which  only  the  height  of  excitement  could  give,  Vin- 
cent stood  back  and  listened.  He  heard  every  step 
that  passed  outside  ;  the  pawing  of  the  horse  in  the 
cab  that  waited  for  him,  the  chance  voices  of  the 
passengers,  all  chimed  in,  without  interrupting  the 
conversation  between  the  man  who  admitted  him  and 
his  fellow-servant  down-stairs. 

"Jim,  is  the  Colonel  at  home? — he  ain't,  to  be 
sure,  but  we  wants  to  know  parti cklar.  Here,"  in  a 
slightly  lowered  voice,  "  his  mother's  been  took  bad, 
and  the  parson's  sent  for  him.  When  is  he  agoing  to 
be  in  to  dinner?    Ask  Cookie ;  she'll  be  sure  to  know." 

"  The  Colonel  ain't  coming  in  to  dinner,  stoopid," 
answered  the  unseen  interlocutor  ;  "  he  ain't  been 
here  all  day.  Out  o'  town.  Couldn't  you  say  so, 
instead  of  jabbering  ?  Out  o'  town.  It's  allays  safe 
to  say,  and  this  time  it's  true." 

"  What's  he  adoing  of,  in  case  the  genleman  should 
want  to  know  ? "  said  the  fellow  at  the  head  of  the 
stair. 

"  After  mischief,"  was   the    brief  and    emphatic 


332  CHRONICLES   OF    CARLINGFORD  ! 

answer.  "  You  come  along  down  to  your  work,  and 
let  the  Colonel  alone." 

"Any  mischief  in  particklar?"  continued  the  man, 
tossing  a  dirty  napkin  in  his  hand,  and  standing  in 
careless  contempt,  with  his  hack  to  the  minister. 
"  It's  a  pleasant  way  the  Colonel's  got,  that  is  :  any 
more  particklars,  Jim  ?  —  the  gen'leman  '11  stand 
something  if  you'll  let  him  know." 

"  Hold  your  noise,  stoopid — it  ain't  no  concern  o' 
yours — my  master's  my  master,  and  I  ain't  agoing  to 
tell  his  secrets,"  said  the  voice  below.  Vincent  had 
made  a  step  forward,  divided  between  his  impulse  to 
kick  the  impertinent  fellow  who  had  admitted  him 
down-stairs,  and  the  equally  strong  impulse  which 
prompted  him  to  offer  any  bribe  to  the  witness  who 
knew  his  master's  secrets  ;  but  he  was  suddenly 
arrested  in  both  by  a  step  on  the  street  outside,  and 
the  grating  of  a  latch-key  in  the  door.  A  long  light 
step,  firm  and  steady,  with  a  certain  sentiment  of 
rapid  silent  progress  in  it.  Vincent  could  not  tell 
what  strange  fascination  it  was  that  made  him  turn 
round  to  watch  this  new-comer.  The  stranger's  ap- 
proach thrilled  him  vaguely,  he  could  not  tell  how. 
Then  the  door  opened,  and  a  man  appeared  like  the 
footstep — a  very  tall  slight  figure,  stooping  forward  a 
little ;  a  pale  oval  face,  too  long  to  be  handsome, 
adorned  with  a  long  brown  beard  ;  thoughtful  eyes, 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  333 

with  a  distant  gleam  in  them,  now  and  then  flashing 
into  sudden  penetrating  glances — a  loose  dress  too 
light  for  the  season,  which  somehow  carried  out  all 
the  peculiarities  of  the  long  light  step,  the  thin  sinewy 
form,  the  thoughtful  softness  and  keenness  of  the  eye. 
Even  in  the  height  of  his  own  suspense  and  excite- 
ment, Vincent  paused  to  ask  himself  who  this  could 
be.  He  came  in  with  one  sudden  glance  at  the 
stranger  in  the  hall,  passed  him,  and  calling  to  the 
man,  who  became  on  the  moment  respectful  and  at- 
tentive, asked  if  there  were  any  letters.  '"'What 
name,  sir? — beg  your  pardon — my  place  ain't  up- 
stairs," said  the  fellow.  What  was  the  name?  Vin- 
cent rushed  forward  when  he  heard  it,  and  seized  the 
new-comer  by  the  shoulder  with  the  fierceness  of  a 
tiger.  "  Fordham  !  "  cried  the  young  man,  with  boil- 
ing rage  and  hatred.  Next  moment  he  had  let  go 
his  grasp,  and  was  gazing  bewildered  upon  the  calm 
stranger,  who  looked  at  him  with  merely  a  thought- 
ful inquiry  in  his  eyes.  "  Fordham — at  your  service 
— do  you  want  anything  with  me?"  he  asked,  meet- 
ing with  undiminished  calm  the  young  man's  excited 
looks.  This  composure  put  a  sudden  curb  on  Vin- 
cent's passion. 

"  My  name  is  Vincent,"  he  said,  restraining  himself 
with  an  effort;  "  do  you  know  now  what  I  want  with 
you?     No?     Am  I  to  believe  your   looks  or  your 


334        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

name?  If  you  are  the  man,"  cried  the  young  Non- 
conformist, with  a  groan  out  of  his  distracted  heart, 
"whom  Lady  Western  could  trust  with  life,  to  death 
— or  if  you  are  a  fiend  incarnate,  making  misery  and 
ruin,  yen  shall  not  escape  me  till  I  know  the  truth. 
Where  is  Susan  ?  Here  is  where  her  innocent  letters 
eaiiu — they  were  addressed  to  your  name.  Where  is 
she  now  ?  Answer  me  !  For  you,  as  well  as  the  rest 
of  us,  it  is  life  or  death." 

"  You  are  raving,"  said  the  stranger,  keeping  his 
awakened  eyes  fixed  upon  Vincent;  "but  this  is  easily 
settled.  I  returned  from  the  East  only  yesterday.  I 
don't  know  you.  What  was  that  you  said  about 
Lady — Lady — what  lady  ?  Come  in  :  and  my  name? 
— my  name  has  been  unheard  in  this  country,  so 

far  as  I  know,  for  ten  years.     Lady ? — come 

in  and  explain  what  you  mean." 

The  two  stood  together  confronting  each  other  in 
the  little  parlour  of  the  house, where  the  striped  jacket 
quickly  and  humbly  lighted  the  gas.  Vincent's  face, 
haggard  with  misery  and  want  of  rest,  looked  wild  in 
that  sudden  light.  The  stranger  stood  opposite  him, 
leaning  forward  with  a  strange  eagerness  and  inquiry. 
He  did  not  care  for  Vincent's  anxiety,  who  was  a 
stranger  to  him ;  he  cared  only  to  hear  again  that 

name — Lady ?     He  had  heard  it  already,  or  lie 

would  have  been  less  curious  ;   he  wanted  to  under- 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  335 

stand  this  wonderful  message  wafted  to  him  out  of 
his  old  life.  "What  did  it  matter  to  Herbert  Fordham, 
used  to  the  danger  of  the  deserts  and  mountains, 
whether  it  was  a  maniac  who  brought  this  chance 
seed  of  a  new  existence  to  his  wondering  heart  ? 

"A  man  called  Fordham  has  gone  into  my  mo- 
ther's house,"  said  Vincent,  fixing  his  eyes  upon 
those  keen  but  visionary  orbs  which  were  fixed  on 
him — "  and  won  the  love  of  my  sister.  She  wrote  to 
him  here — to  this  house ;  yesterday  he  carried  her 
away,  to  her  shame  and  destruction.  Answer  me," 
cried  the  young  man,  making  another  fierce  step  for- 
ward, growing  hoarse  with  passion,  and  clenching  his 
hands  in  involuntary  rage — "  was  it  you  ? " 

"  There  are  other  men  called  Fordham  in  existence 
besides  me,"  cried  the  stranger,  with  a  little  irritatii  m  ; 
then  seizing  his  loose  coat  by  its  pockets,  he  shook 
out,  with  a  sudden  impatient  motion,  a  cloud  of  letters 
from  these  receptacles.  "  Because  you  seem  in  great 
excitement  and  distress,  and  yet  are  not,  as  far  as  I 
can  judge,"  said  Mr  Fordham,  with  another  glance  at 
Vincent,  "mad,  I  will  take  pains  to  satisfy  you.  Look 
at  my  letters ;  their  dates  and  post-marks  will  con- 
vince you  that  what  you  say  is  simply  impossible,  for 
that  I  was  not  here." 

Vincent  clutched  and  took  them  up  with  a  certain 
blind  eagerness,  not  knowing  what   he  did.     He  did 


336       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

not  look  at  them  to  satisfy  himself  that  what  Ford* 
ham  said  was  true.  A  wild,  half- conscious  idea 
that  there  must  be  something  in  them  about  Susan 
possessed  him;  he  saw  neither  dates  nor  post-mark, 
though  he  held  them  up  to  the  light,  as  if  they  were 
proofs  of  something.  "  No,"  he  said  at  last,  "  it  was 
not  you — it  was  that  fiend  Mildmay,  Rachel  Russell's 
husband.  Where  is  he?  he  has  taken  your  name, 
and  made  you  responsible  for  his  devilish  deeds. 
Help  me,  if  you  are  a  Christian  !  My  sister  is  in  his 
hands,  curse  him !  Help  me,  for  the  sake  of  your 
name,  to  find  them  out.  I  am  a  stranger,  and  they 
will  give  me  no  information  ;  but  they  will  tell  you. 
For  God's  sake,  ask  and  let  me  go  after  them.  If 
ever  you  were  beholden  to  the  help  of  Christian  men, 
help  me  !  for  it  is  life  and  death  !" 

"Mildmay!  Rachel  Russell's  husband?  under  my 
name  ? "  said  Mr  Fordham,  slowly.  "  I  have  been 
beholden  to  Christian  men,  and  that  for  very  life. 
You  make  a  strong  appeal :  who  are  you  that  are  so 
desperate?  and  what  was  that  you  said?" 

"  I  am  Susan  Vincent's  brother,"  said  the  younu 
Nonconformist ;  "  that  is  enough.  This  devil  has 
taken  your  name  ;  help  me,  for  heaven's  sake,  to  find 
him  out !" 

"Mildmay? — devil?  yes,  he  is  a  devil!  you  are 
right  enough :  I  owe  him  no  love,"  said  Fordham  ; 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  337 

then  lie  paused  and  turned  away,  as  if  in  momentary 

perplexity.  "  To  help  that  villain  to  his  reward  would 
be  a  mans  duty;  but/'  said  the  stranger,  with  a  heavy 
sigh,  upon  which  his  words  came  involuntarily,  spoken 
to  himself,  breathing  out  of  his  heart — "  he  is  her 
brother,  devil  though  he  is  !" 

"Yes!"  cried  Vincent,  with  passion,  "he  is  her 
brother."  When  he  had  said  the  words,  the  young 
man  groaned  aloud.  Tartly  he  forgot  that  this  man, 
who  looked  upon  him  with  so  much  curiosity,  was 
the  man  who  had  brought  tears  and  trembling  to 
Her  ;  partly  he  remembered  it,  and  forgot  his  jeal- 
ousy for  the  moment  in  a  bitter  sense  of  fellow-feet- 
ing.  In  his  heart  he  could  see  her,  waving  her  hand 
to  him  out  of  her  passing  carriage,  with  that  smile 
for  which  he  would  have  risked  his  life.  Oh,  hideous 
fate  !  it  was  her  brother  whom  he  was  bound  to  pur- 
sue to  the  end  of  the  world.  He  buried  his  face  in 
his  hands,  in  a  momentary  madness  of  anguish  and 
passion.  Susan  floated  away  like  a  mist  from  that 
burning  personal  horizon.  The  love  and  the  despair 
were  too  much  for  Vincent.  The  hope  that  had  al- 
ways been  impossible  was  frantic  now.  When  he 
recovered  himself,  the  stranger  whom  he  had  thus 
unawares  taken  into  his  confidence  was  regarding 
him  haughtily  from  the  other  side  of  the  table,  with 

a  fiery  light  in  his  thoughtful  eyes.     Suspicion,  jeal- 
VOL.  i.  Y 


338        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

ousy,  resentment,  had  begun  to  sparkle  in  those  orbs, 
which  in  repose  looked  so  far  away  and  lay  so  calm. 
Mr  Fordham  measured  the  haggard  and  worn-out 
young  man  with  a  look  of  rising  dislike  and  ani- 
mosity. He  was  at  least  ten  years  older  than  the 
young  Nonconformist,  who  stood  there  in  his  wretch- 
edness and  exhaustion  entirely  at  disadvantage,  look- 
ing, in  his  half-clerical  dress,  which  he  had  not 
changed  for  four-and-twenty  hours,  as  different  as 
can  be  conceived  from  the  scrupulously  dressed 
gentleman  in  his  easy  morning  habiliments,  which 
would  not  have  been  out  of  place  in  the  rudest  scene, 
yet  spoke  of  personal  nicety  and  high-breeding  in 
every  easy  fold.  Vincent  himself  felt  the  contrast 
with  an  instant  flush  of  answering  jealousy  and 
passion.  For  a  moment  the  two  glanced  at  each 
other,  conscious  rivals,  though  not  a  word  of  explana- 
tion had  been  spoken.  It  was  Mr  Fordham  who 
spoke  first,  and  in  a  somewhat  hasty  and  imperious 
tone. 

"  You  spoke  of  a  lady — Lady  Western,  I  think. 
As  it  was  you  yourself  who  sought  this  interview,  I 
may  be  pardoned  if  I  stumble  on  a  painful  subject," 
he  said,  with  some  bitterness.  "  I  presume  you 
know  that  lady  by  your  tone — was  it  she  who  sent 
you  to  me  ?  No  ?  Then  I  confess  your  appeal  to  a 
total  stranger  seems  to  me  singular,  to  say  the  least 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  339 

of  it.  "Where  is  your  proof  that  Colonel  Mildmay 
has  used  my  name  ?  " 

"Proof  is  unnecessary,"  said  Vincent,  firing  with 
kindred  resentment ;  "I  have  told  you  the  fact,  but  I 
do  not  press  my  appeal,  though  it  was  made  to  your 
honour.  Pardon  me  for  intruding  on  you  so  long.  I 
have  now  no  time  to  lose." 

He  turned  away,  stung  in  his  hasty  youthfulness 
by  the  appearance  of  contempt.  He  would  condescend 
to  ask  no  farther.  When  lie  was  once  more  outside 
the  parlour,  he  held  up  the  half-sovereign,  which  he 
had  kept  ready  in  his  hand,  to  the  slovenly  fellow  in 
the  striped  jacket.  "Twice  as  much  if  you  will 
tell  where  Colonel  Mildmay  is  gone,"  he  said,  hur- 
riedly. The  man  winked  and  nodded  and  pointed 
outside,  but  before  Vincent  could  leave  the  room  a 
hasty  summons  came  from  the  parlour  which  he 
had  just  left.  Then  Mr  Fordhani  appeared  at  the 
door. 

"  If  you  will  wait  I  will  make  what  inquiries  I 
can,"  said  the  stranger,  with  distant  courtesy  and 
seriousness.  "  Excuse  me — I  was  taken  by  surprise  : 
but  if  you  have  suffered  injury  under  my  name,  it 
is  my  business  to  vindicate  myself.  Come  in.  If 
you  will  take  my  advice,  you  will  rest  and  refresh 
yourself  before  you  pursue  a  man  with  all  his  wits 
about  him.     Wait  for  me  here  and  I  will  bring  you 


340  CHRONICLES   OF    CARLIXGFORD  : 

what  information  I  can.  You  don't  suppose  I  mean 
to  play  you  false?"  he  added,  with  prompt  irrita- 
tion, seeing  that  Vincent  hesitated  and  did  not  at 
once  return  to  the  room.  It  was  no  relenting  of 
heart  that  moved  him  to  make  this  offer.  It  was  with 
no  softening  of  feeling  that  the  young  Nonconformist 
went  back  again  and  accepted  it.  They  met  like 
enemies,  each  on  his  honour.  Mr  Fordham  hastened 
out  to  acquit  himself  of  that  obligation.  Vincent 
threw  himself  into  a  chair,  and  waited  for  the 
result. 

It  was  the  first  moment  of  rest  and  quiet  he  had 
known  since  the  morning  of  the  previous  day,  when 
he  and  his  mother,  alarmed  but  comparatively  calm, 
had  gone  to  see  Mrs  Hilyard,  who  was  now,  like  him- 
self, wandering,  with  superior  knowledge  and  more 
desperate  passion,  on  the  same  track.  To  sit  in  this 
house  in  the  suspicious  silence,  hearing  the  distant 
thrill  of  voices  which  might  guide  or  foil  him  in  his 
search  ;  to  think  who  it  was  whom  he  had  engaged  to 
help  him  in  his  terrible  mission  ;  to  go  over  again  in 
distracted  gleams  and  snatches  the  brief  little  circle 
of  time  which  had  brought  all  this  about,  the  group 
of  figures  into  which  his  life  had  been  absorbed, — 
rapt  the  young  man  into  a  maze  of  excited  musing, 
which  his  exhausted  frame  at  once  dulled  and  inten- 
sified.    They  seemed  to  stand  round  him,  with  their 


*  SALEM    CHAPEL.  341 

faces  so  new,  yet  so  familiar — that  needle-woman 
with  her  emphatic  month — Mildmay — Lady  Western 
— last  of  all,  this  man,  who  was  not  Susan's  lover — 
not  Susan's  destroyer — but  a  man  to  be  trusted  "  with 
life — to  death  !  "  Vincent  put  up  his  hands  to  put 
away  from  him  that  wonderful  circle  of  strangers  who 
shut  out  everything  else  in  the  world — even  his  own 
life — from  his  eyes.  What  were  they  to  him?  he 
asked,  with  an  unspeakable  bitterness  in  his  heart. 
Heaven  help  him  !  they  were  the  real  creatures  for 
whom  life  and  the  world  were  made — he  and  his 
poor  Susan  the  shadows  to  be  absorbed  into,  and 
under  them  ;  and  then,  with  a  wild,  bitter,  hopeless 
rivalry,  the  mind  of  the  poor  Dissenting  minister 
came  round  once  more  to  the  immediate  contact  in 
which  he  stood— to  Fordham,  in  whose  name  his 
sister's  life  had  been  shipwrecked,  and  by  whom,  as 
he  divined  with  cruel  foresight,  his  own  hopeless 
love  and  dreams  were  to  be  made  an  end  of.  Well  ! 
what  better  could  they  come  to  ?  but  it  was  hard  to 
think  of  him,  with  his  patrician  looks,  his  negligent 
grace,  his  conscious  superiority,  and  to  submit  to 
accept  assistance  from  him  even  in  his  sorest  need. 
These  thoughts  were  in  his  mind  when  Mr  Fordham 
hastily  re-entered  the  room.  A  thrill  of  excitement 
now  was  in  the  long,  lightly  -  falling  step,  which 
already  Vincent,  with  the  keen  ear  of  rivalry  almost 


342        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

as  quick  as  that  of  love,  could  recognise  as  it  ap- 
proached The  stranger  was  disturbed  out  of  his 
composure.  He  shut  the  door  and  came  up  to  the 
young  man,  who  rose  to  meet  him,  with  a  certain  ex- 
cited repugnance  and  attraction  much  like  Vincent's 
own  feelings. 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  he  said,  hastily  ;  "  I  find 
letters  have  been  coming  here  for  some  months,  ad- 
dressed as  if  to  me,  which  Mildmay  has  had.  The 
man  of  the  house  is  absent,  or  I  should  never  have 
heard  of  it.  I  don't  know  what  injury  he  may  have 
done  you  ;  but  this  is  an  insult  I  don't  forgive.  Stop ! 
I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  he  has  gone,"  said 
Fordham,  growing  darkly  red,  "  to  a  house  of  mine, 
to  confirm  this  slander  upon  me.  To  prove  that  I 
am  innocent  of  all  share  of  it — I  don't  mean  to  you — 
you  believe  me,  I  presume  ?  "  he  said,  with  a  haughty 
sudden  pause,  looking  straight  in  Vincent's  face — 

"  I  will  go "     Here  Mr  Fordham  stopped  again, 

and  once  more  looked  at  Vincent  with  that  indescrib- 
able mixture  of  curiosity,  dislike,  resentment,  and 
interest,  which  the  eyes  of  the  young  Nonconformist 
repaid  him  fully, — "  with  you — if  you  choose.  At 
all  events,  I  will  go  to-night — to  Fordham,  where  the 
scoundel  is.  I  cannot  permit  it  to  be  believed  for  an 
hour  that  it  is  I  who  have  done  this  villany.  The 
lady  you  mentioned,  I  presume,  knows  ?  " — he  added, 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  343 

sharply — "  knows  what  has  happened,  and  whom 
you  suspect  ?  This  must  be  set  right  at  once.  If 
you  choose,  we  can  go  together." 

"  Where  is  the  place  ? "  asked  "Vincent,  without 
any  answer  to  this  proposition. 

Fordham  looked  at  him  with  a  certain  haughty 
offence  :  he  had  made  the  offer  as  though  it  were  a 
very  disagreeable  expedient,  but  resented  instantly 
the  tacit  neglect  of  it  shown  by  his  companion. 

"  In  Northumberland — seven  miles  from  the  rail- 
way," he  said,  with  a  kind  of  gratification.  "  Once 
more,  I  say,  you  can  go  with  me  if  you  will,  which 
may  serve  us  both.  I  don't  pretend  to  be  disinter- 
ested. My  object  is  to  have  my  reputation  clear  of 
this,  at  all  events.  Your  object,  I  presume,  is  to  get 
to  your  journey's  end  as  early  as  may  be.  Choose 
for  yourself.  Fordham  is  between  Durham  and 
Morpeth — seven  miles  from  Lamington  station.  You 
will  find  difficulty  in  getting  there  by  yourself,  and 
still  greater  difficulty  in  getting  admission ;  and  I 
repeat,  if  you  choose  it,  you  can  go  with  me — or  I 
will  accompany  you,  if  that  pleases  you  better. 
Either  way,  there  is  little  time  to  consider.  The 
train  goes  at  eight  or  nine  o'clock — I  forget  which. 
I  have  not  dined.     What  shall  you  do  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Vincent,     It  was   perhaps  a 
greater  effort  to  him  to  overcome  his  involuntary  re- 


344       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLJNGFOBD  : 

pugiiance  than  it  was  to  the  stranger  beside  him, 
who  had  all  the  superior  ease  of  superior  rank  and 
age.  The  Nonconformist  turned  away  his  eyes  from 
his  new  companion,  and  made  a  pretence  of  consult- 
ing his  watch.  "  I  will  take  advantage  of  your 
offer,"  he  said,  coldly,  withdrawing  a  step  with  in- 
stinctive reserve.  On  these  diplomatic  terms  their 
engagement  was  made.  Vincent  declined  to  share 
the  dinner  which  the  other  offered  him,  as  one 
duellist  might  offer  hospitality  to  another.  He  drove 
away  in  his  hansom,  with  a  restrained  gravity  of 
excitement,  intent  upon  the  hour's  rest  and  the  meal 
which  were  essential  to  make  him  anything  like 
a  match  for  this  unexpected  travelling  companion. 
Every  morsel  he  attempted  to  swallow  when  in  Car- 
lingford  under  his  mother's  anxious  eyes,  choked  the 
excited  young  man  ;  but  now  he  ate  with  a  certain 
stern  appetite,  and  even  snatched  an  hour's  sleep  and 
changed  his  dress,  under  this  novel  stimulant.  Poor 
Susan,  for  whom  her  mother  sat  hopelessly  watching 
with  many  a  thrill  of  agony  at  home !  Poor  lost  one, 
far  away  in  the  depths  of  the  strange  country  in  the 
night  and  darkness  !  Whether  despair  and  horror 
enveloped  her,  or  delirious  false  happiness  and  delu- 
sion, again  she  stood  secondary  even  in  her  brother's 
thoughts.  He  tried  to  imagine  it  was  she  who  oc- 
cupied his  mind,  and  wrote  a  hurried  note  to  his 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  345 

mother  to  that  purport ;  but  with  gnilt  and  self- 
disgust,  knew  in  his  own  mind  how  often  another 
shadow  stood  between  him  and  his  lost  sister — a 
shadow  bitterly  veiled  from  him,  turning  its  sweet- 
ness and  its  smiles  upon  the  man  who  was  about  to 
help  him,  against  whom  he  gnashed  his  teeth  in  the 
anguish  of  his  heart. 


CHAPTER    XX. 


They  were  but  these  two  in  the  railway-carriage  ;  no 
other  passenger  broke  the  silent  conflict  of  their  com- 
panionship. They  sat  in  opposite  corners,  as  far 
apart  as  their  space  would  permit,  but  on  opposite 
sides  of  the  carriage  as  well,  so  that  one  could  not 
move  without  betraying  his  every  movement  to  the 
other's  keen  observation.  Each  of  them  kept  pos- 
session of  a  window,  out  of  which  he  gazed  into  the 
visible  blackness  of  the  winter  night.  Two  or  three 
times  in  the  course  of  the  long  darksome  chilly 
journey,  a  laconic  remark  was  made  by  one  or  the 
other  with  a  deadly  steadiness,  and  gravity,  and 
facing  of  each  other,  as  they  spoke  ;  but  no  further 
intercourse  took  place  between  them.  When  they 
first  met,  Fordham  had  made  an  attempt  to  draw  his 
fellow-traveller  into  some  repetition  of  that  first  pas- 
sionate speech  which  had  secured  his  own  attention 
to  Vincent ;  but  the  young  Nonconformist  perceived 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  347 

the  attempt,  and  resented  it  with  sullen  offence  and 
gloom.  He  took  the  stranger's  indifference  to  his 
trouble,  and  undisguised  and  simple  purpose  of  ac- 
quitting himself,  as  somehow  an  affront,  though  he 
could  not  have  explained  how  it  was  so ;  and  this 
notwithstanding  his  own  consciousness  of  realising 
this  silent  conflict  and  rival ry  with  Fordham,  even  more 
deeply  in  his  own  person  than  he  did  the  special 
misery  which  had  befallen  his  house.  Through  the 
sullen  silent  midnight  the  train  dashed  on,  the  faint 
light  flickering  in  the  unsteady  carriage,  the  two 
speechless  figures,  with  eyes  averted,  watching  each 
other  through  all  the  ice-cold  hours.  It  was  morning 
when  they  got  out,  cramped  and  frozen,  at  the  little 
station,  round  which  miles  and  miles  of  darkness, 
a  black  unfathomable  ocean,  seemed  to  lie — and 
which  shone  there  with  its  little  red  sparkle  of  light 
among  its  wild  waste  of  moors  like  the  one  touch  of 
human  life  in  a  desert.  They  had  a  dreary  hour  to 
wait  in  the  little  wooden  room  by  the  stifling  fire, 
divided  between  the  smothering  atmosphere  within 
and  the  thrilling  cold  without,  before  a  conveyance 
could  be  procured  for  them,  in  which  they  set  out 
shivering  over  the  seven  darkling  miles  between  them 
and  Fordham.  Vincent  stood  apart  in  elaborate  in- 
difference and  carelessness,  when  the  squire  was  re- 
cognised and  done  homage  to ;  and  Fordham's  eye, 


348        CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  ! 

even  while  lighted  up  by  the  astonished  delight  of 
the  welcome  given  him  by  the  driver  of  the  vehicle 
who  first  found  him  out,  turned  instinctively  to  the 
Mordecai  in  the  corner  who  took  no  heed.  No  con- 
versation between  them  diversified  the  black  road 
along  which  they  drove.  Mr  Fordham  took  refuge 
in  the  driver,  whom  he  asked  all  those  questions 
about  the  people  of  the  neighbourhood  which  are 
so  interesting  to  the  inhabitants  of  a  district  and 
so  wearisome  to  strangers.  Vincent,  who  sat  in  the 
dog-cart  with  his  face  turned  the  other  way,  suffered 
himself  to  be  carried  through  the  darkness  by  the 
powerful  horse,  which  made  his  own  seat  a  some- 
what perilous  one,  with  nothing  so  decided  in  his 
thoughts  as  a  dumb  sense  of  opposition  and  resistance. 
The  general  misery  of  his  mind  and  body — the  sense 
that  all  the  firmament  around  him  was  black  as  this 
sky — the  restless  wretchedness  that  oppressed  his 
heart — all  concentrated  into  conscious  rebellion  and 
enmity.  He  seemed  to  himself  at  war,  not  only 
with  Mr  Fordham  who  was  helping  him,  but  with 
God  and  life. 

Morning  was  breaking  when  they  reached  the 
house.  The  previous  day,  as  it  dawned  chilly  over 
the  world,  had  revealed  his  mother's  ashy  face  to 
Vincent  as  they  came  up  from  Lonsdale  with  sicken- 
ing thrills  of  hope  that  Susan  might  still  be  found 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  349 

unharmed.     Here  was  another  horror  of  a  new  day 
rising,  the  third  since  Susan  disappeared  into  that 
darkness  which  was  now  lifting  in  shuddering  mists 
from  the  bleak  country  round.     Was  she  here  in  her 
shame,  the  lost  creature  ?     As  he  began  to  ask  him- 
self that  question,  what  cruel  spirit  was  it  that  drew 
aside  a  veil  of  years,  and  showed  to  the  unhappy 
brother  that  prettiest  dancing  figure,  all  smiles  and 
sunshine,  sweet  honour  and  hope  ?     Poor  lost  child ! 
what  sweet  eyes,  lost  in  an  unfathomable  light  of  joy 
and  confidence — what  truthful  looks,  which  feared  no 
evil!     Just  as  they  came  in  sight  of  that  hidden 
house,  where  perhaps  the  hidden,  stolen  creature  lay 
in  the  darkness,  the  brightest  picture  flashed  back  upon 
Vincent's  eyes  with  an  indescribably  subtle  anguish 
of  contrast  ;  how  he  had  come  up  to  her  once — the 
frank,  fair  Saxon  girl — in  the  midst  of  a  group  of 
gypsies — how  he  found  she  had  done  a  service  to  one 
of  them,  and  the  whole  tribe  did  homage — how  In- 
had  asked,  "  Were  you  not  afraid,  Susan  ? "  and  how 
the  girl  had  looked  up  at  him  with  undoubting  eyes, 
and  answered,  "  Afraid,  Arthur  ? — yes,  of  wild  beasts 
if  I  saw  them,  not  of  men  and  women."'     Oh  Heaven! 
— and  here  he  was  going  to  find  her  in  shame  .and 
ruin,  hidden  away  in  this  secret  place  !     He  sprang 
to  the  ground  before  the  vehicle  had  stopped,  jarring 
his  frozen  limbs.     He  could  not  bear  to  be  second 


350       CHBONICLBS  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

now,  and  follow  to  the  dread  discovery  which  should 
be  his  alone.  lie  rushed  through  the  shrubbery  with- 
out asking  any  question,  and  began  to  knock  violently 
at  the  door.  What  did  it  matter  to  him  though  its 
master  was  there,  looking  on  with  folded  arms  and 
unsympathetic  face?  Natural  love  rushed  back 
upon  the  young  man's  heart.  He  settled  with  him- 
self, as  he  stood  waiting,  how  he  would  wrap  her 
in  his  coat,  and  hurry  her  away  without  letting  any 
cold  eye  fall  upon  the  lost  creature.  Oh,  hard  and 
cruel  fate  !  oh,  wonderful  heart-breaking  indifferenoe 
of  Heaven  !  The  Innocents  are  murdered,  and  God 
looks  on  like  a  man,  and  does  not  interfere.  Such 
were  the  broken  thoughts  of  misery — half-thought, 
half-recollection — that  ran  through  Vincent's  mind  as 
he  knocked  at  the  echoing  door. 

"  Eugh !  you  may  knock,  and  better  knock,  and 
I'se  undertake  none  comes  at  the  ca',"  said  the  driver, 
not  without  a  little  complacence.  "  I  tell  the  Squire, 
as  there  han't  been  man  nor  woman  here  for  ages  ; 
but  he  don't  believe  me.  She's  deaf  as  a  post,  is  the 
housekeeper ;  and  her  daughter,  she's  more  to  do  nor 
hear  when  folks  is  wanting  in — and  this  hour  in  the 
morning !  But  canny,  canny,  man  !  he'll  have  the 
door  staved  in  if  we  all  stand  by  and  the  Squire  don't 
interfere." 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  351 

Vincent  paid  no  attention  to  the  remonstrance — 
which,  indeed,  he  only  remembered  afterwards,  and 
did  not  hear  at  the  moment.  The  house  was  closely- 
shut  in  with  trees,  which  made  the  gloom  of  morning 
darker  here  than  in  the  open  road,  and  increased  the 
aspect  of  secrecy  which  had  impressed  the  young 
man's  excited  imagination.  While  he  went  on  knock- 
ing, Fordham  alighted  and  went  round  to  another 
entrance,  where  he  too  began  to  knock,  calling  at  the 
same  time  to  the  unseen  keepers  of  the  place.  After 
a  while  some  answering  sounds  became  audible — first 
the  feeble  yelping  of  an  asthmatic  dog,  then  a  commo- 
tion up-stairs,  and  at  last  a  window  was  thrown  up,  and 
a  female  head  enveloped  in  a  shawl  looked  out.  "Eh, 
whaeareye?  vagabond  villains,— and  this  a  gentle- 
man's house,"  cried  a  cracked  voice.  "  I'll  let  the 
Squire  know — I'll  rouse  the  man-servants.  Tramps  ! 
what  are  you  wanting  here  ? "  The  driver  of  the  dog- 
cart took  up  the  response  well  pleased.  He  announced 
the  arrival  of  the  Squire,  to  the  profound  agitation  of 
the  house,  which  showed  itself  in  a  variety  of  scuffling 
sounds  and  the  wildest  exclamations  of  wonder. 
Vincent  leaned  his  throbbing  head  against  the  door, 
and  waited  in  a  dull  fever  of  impatience  and  excite- 
ment, as  these  noises  gradually  came  nearer.  When 
the  door  itself  was  reached  and  hasty  hands  began  to 


352  CHRONICLES   OF    CARLINGFORD  : 

unfasten  its  bolts,  Susan's  brother  pressed  alone  upcro 
the  threshold,  forgetful  and  indifferent  that  the  mas- 
ter of  the  house  stood  behind,  watching  him  with  close 
and  keen  observation.  He  forgot  whose  house  it  was, 
and  all  about  his  companion.  What  were  such  cir- 
cumstances to  him,  as  he  approached  the  conclusion 
of  his  search,  and  thought  every  moment  to  hear  poor 
Susan's  cry  of  shame  and  terror  ?  He  made  one  hasty 
stride  into  the  hall  when  the  door  was  open,  and 
looked  round  him  with  burning  eyes.  The  wonder 
with  which  the  women  inside  looked  at  him,  their 
outcry  of  disappointment  and  anger  when  they  found 
him  a  stranger,  coming  first  as  he  did,  and  throwing 
the  Squire  entirely  into  the  shade,  had  no  effect  upon 
the  young  man,  who  was  by  this  time  half  frantic. 
He  went  up  to  the  elder  woman  and  grasped  her  by 
the  arm.  "Where  is  she?  show  me  the  way!"  he 
said,  hoarsely,  unable  to  utter  an  unnecessary  word. 
He  held  the  terrified  woman  fast,  and  thrust  her  be- 
fore him,  he  could  not  tell  where,  into  the  unknown 
house,  all  dark  and  miserable  in  the  wretchedness  of 
the  dawn.  "  Show  me  the  way  ! "  he  cried,  with  his 
broken  hoarse  voice.  A  confused  and  inarticulate 
scene  ensued,  which  Vincent  remembered  afterwards 
only  like  a  dream  ;  the  woman's  scream — the  inter- 
ference of  Fordham,  upon  whom  his  fellow-traveller 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  353 

turned  with  sudden  fury — the  explanation  to  which 
he  listened  without  understanding  it,  and  which  at 
first  roused  him  to  wild  rage  as  a  pretence  and  false- 
hood. But  even  Vincent  at  last,  struggling  into 
soberer  consciousness  as  the  day  broadened  ever 
chiller  and  more  grey  over  the  little  group  of  strange 
faces  round  him,  came  to  understand  and  make  out 
that  both  Fordham  and  he  had  been  deceived.  No- 
body had  been  there — letters  addressed  both  to  Ford- 
ham  himself,  and  to  Colonel  Mildmay,  had  been  for 
some  days  received ;  but  these,  it  appeared,  were  only 
a  snare  laid  to  withdraw  the  pursuers  from  the  right 
scent.  Not  to  be  convinced,  in  the  sullen  stupor  of 
his  excitement,  Vincent  followed  Fordham  into  all 
the  gloomy  corners  of  the  neglected  house — seeing 
everything  without  knowing  what  he  saw.  But  one 
thing  was  plain  beyond  the  possibility  of  doubt,  that 
Susan  was  not  there. 

"I  am  to  blame  for  this  fruitless  journey,"  said 
Fordham,  with  a  touch  of  sympathy  more  than  he 
had  yet  exhibited  ;  "perhaps  personal  feeling  had  too 
much  share  in  it;  now  I  trust  you  will  have  some 
breakfast  before  you  set  out  again.  So  far  as  my 
assistance  can  be  of  any  use  to  you " 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  Vincent,  coldly  ;  "  it  is  a  busi- 
ness in  which  a  stranger  can  have  no  interest.     You 

vol.  i.  z 


354       CHRONICLES  OF  CABLINOFOBD  : 

have  done  all  you  cared  to  do,"  continued  the  young 
man,  hastily  gatheringup  the  overcoat  which  he  had 
thrown  down  on  entering;  "you  have  vindicated 
yourself — I  will  trouble  you  no  further.  If  I  encoun- 
ter any  one  interested  in  Mr  Fordham,"  he  concluded, 
with  difficulty  and  bitterness,  but  with  a  natural 
generosity  which,  even  in  his  despair,  he  could  not 
belie,  "  I  will  do  him  justice."  He  made  an  abrupt 
end,  and  turned  away,  not  another  word  being  possible 
to  him.  Fordham,  not  without  a  sentiment  of  sym- 
pathy, followed  him  to.  the  door,  urging  refreshment, 
rest,  even  his  own  society,  upon  his  companion  of  the 
night.  Vincent's  face,  more  and  more  haggard — hia 
exhausted  excited  air — the  poignant  wretchedness  of 
his  youth,  on  which  the  older  man  looked,  not  with- 
out reminiscences,  awoke  the  sympathy  and  compas- 
sion of  the  looker-on,  even  in  the  midst  of  less  kindly 
emotions.  But  Fordham's  sympathy  was  intolerable 
to  poor  Vincent.  He  took  his  seat  with  a  sullen 
weariness  once  more  by  the  talkative  driver,  who 
gave  him  an  unheeded  history  of  all  the  Fordhams. 
As  they  drove  along  the  bleak  moorland  road,  an 
early  church-bell  tingled  into  the  silence,  and  struck, 
with  horrible  iron  echoes,  upon  the  heart  of  the  minis- 
ter of  Salem.  Sunday  morning  !  Life  all  disordered, 
incoherent,  desperate — all  its  usages  set  at  nought 
and  duties  left  behind.     Nothing  could  have  added 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  355 

the  final  touch  of  conscious  derangement  and  desper- 
ation like  the  sound  of  that  bell ;  all  his  existence 
and  its  surroundings  floated  about  him  in  feverish 
clouds,  as  it  came  to  his  mind  that  this  wild  morning, 
hysterical  with  fatigue  and  excitement,  was  the  Sun- 
day— the  day  of  his  special  labours — the  central 
point  of  all  his  former  life.  Chaos  gloomed  around 
the  poor  minister,  who,  in  his  misery,  was  human 
enough  to  remember  Beecher's  smile  and  Phcebe 
Tozer's  invitation,  and  to  realise  how  all  the  "Chapel 
folks"  would  compare  notes,  and  contrast  their  own 
pastor,  to  whom  they  had  become  accustomed,  with 
the  new  voice  from  Homerton,  which,  half  in  pride 
and  half  in  disgust,  Vincent  acknowledged  to  be  more 
in  their  way.  He  fancied  he  could  see  them  all  col- 
lecting into  their  mean  pews,  prepared  to  inaugurate 
the  "coorse"  for  which  Tozer  had  struggled,  and  the 
offence  upon  their  faces  when  the  minister's  absence 
was  known,  and  the  sharp  stimulus  which  that  offence 
would  give  to  their  appreciation  of  the  new  preacher 
— all  this,  while  he  was  driving  over  the  bleak  Nor- 
thumberland wilds,  with  the  cutting  wind  from  the 
hills  in  his  face,  and  the  church-bell  in  his  distracted 
ear,  breaking  the  Sunday !  Not  a  bright  spot,  so  far 
as  he  could  perceive,  was  anywhere  around  him,  in 
earth,  or  sky,  or  sea. 

Sunday  night! — once  more  the  church-bells,  the 


356       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLINGFORD  : 

church-going  groups,  the  floating  world,  which  he  had 
many  a  time  upbraided  from  the  pulpit,  seeking  its 
pleasure.  But  it  was  in  London  now,  where  he  stood 
in  utter  exhaustion,  but  incapable  of  rest,  not  know- 
ing  where  to  turn.  Then  the  thought  occurred  to 
him  that  something  might  be  learned  at  the  railway 
stations  of  a  party  which  few  people  could  see  with- 
out remarking  it.  He  waited  till  the  bustle  of  arrival 
was  over,  and  then  began  to  question  the  porters. 
One  after  another  shook  his  head,  and  had  nothing 
to  say.  But  the  men  were  interested,  and  gathered 
in  a  little  knot  round  him,  trying  what  they  could 
recollect,  with  the  ready  humanity  of  their  class. 
"  I'd  speak  to  the  detective  police,  sir,  if  I  was  you," 
suggested  one  ;  "  it's  them  as  finds  out  all  that  hap- 
pens nowadays."  Then  a  little  gleam  of  light  pene- 
trated the  darkness.  One  man  began  to  recall  a 
light-haired  gentleman  with  a  mustache,  and  two 
ladies,  who  "  went  off  sudden  in  a  cab,  with  no  lug- 
gage." "An  uncommon  swell  he  did  look,"  said  the 
porter,  instinctively  touching  his  cap  to  Vincent,  on 
the  strength  of  the  connection  ;  "  and,  my  eyes !  she 
was  a  beauty,  that  one  in  the  blue  veil.  It  was — let 
me  see — Wednesday  night ;  no — not  Wednesday — 
that  clay  as  the  up-train  was  an  hour  late — Friday 
afternoon,  to  be  sure.     It  was  me  as  called  the  cab, 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  357 

and  I  won't  deny  as  the  gen'leman  ivas  a  gen'leman. 
Went  to  the  London  Bridge  station,  sir ;  Dover  line ; 
no  luggage;  I  took  particular  notice  at  the  time, 
though  it  went  out  o'  my  head  first  minute  as  you 
asked  me. — Cab,  sir?  Yes.  Here  you  are — here's 
the  last  on  the  stand. — London  Bridge  Station,  Dover 
line." 

Vincent  took  no  time  to  inquire  further.  In  the 
impatience  of  his  utter  weariness  and  wretchedness, 
he  seized  on  this  slight  clue,  and  went  off  at  once  to 
follow  it  out.  London  Bridge  station  ! — what  a  world 
swarmed  in  those  streets  through  which  the  anxious 
minister  took  his  way,  far  too  deeply  absorbed  in 
himself  to  think  of  the  flood  of  souls  that  pound  past 
him.  The  station  was  in  wild  bustle  and  commotion  ; 
a  train  just  on  the  eve  of  starting,  and  late  passengers 
dashing  towards  it  with  nervous  speed.  Vincent 
followed  the  tide  instinctively,  and  stood  aside  to 
watch  the  long  line  of  carriages  set  in  motion.  He 
was  not  thinking  of  what  he  saw ;  his  whole  mind 
was  set  upon  the  inquiry,  which,  as  soon  as  that 
object  of  universal  interest  was  gone,  he  could  set  on 
foot  among  the  officials  who  were  clanging  the  doors, 
and  uttering  all  the  final  shrieks  of  departure.  Now 
the  tedious  line  glides  into  gradual  motion.  Good 
Heaven !  what  was  that  ?  the  flash  of  a  match,  a 


358  CHRONICLES   OF   CARLINGFORD  : 

sudden  gleam  upon  vacant  cushions,  the  profile  of  a 
face,  high-featured,  with  the  thin  light  locks  and 
shadowy  mustache  he  knew  so  well,  standing  out  for 
a  moment  in  aquiline  distinctness  against  the  moving 
space.  Vincent  rushed  forward  with  a  hoarse  shout, 
which  scaled  the  crowd  around  him.  lie  threw  him- 
self upon  the  moving  train  with  a  desperate  attempt 
to  seize  and  stop  it ;  but  only  to  be  himself  seized  by 
the  frantic  attendants,  who  caught  him  with  a  dozen 
hands.  The  travellers  in  the  later  carriages  were 
startled  by  the  commotion.  Some  of  them  rose  and 
looked  out  with  surprised  looks  ;  he  saw  them  all  as 
they  glided  past,  though  the  passage  was  instantane- 
ous. Saw  them  all !  Yes  ;  who  was  that,  last  of  all, 
at  the  narrow  window  of  a  second-class  carriage,  who 
looked  out  with  no  surprise,  but  with  a  horrible  com- 
posure in  her  white  face,  and  recognised  him  with  a 
look  which  chilled  him  to  stone.  He  stood  passive 
in  the  hands  of  the  men,  who  had  been  struggling  to 
hold  him,  after  he  encountered  those  eyes  ;  he  shud- 
dered with  a  sudden  horror,  which  made  the  crowTd 
gather  closer,  believing  him  a  maniac.  Now  it  was 
gone  into  the  black  night,  into  the  chill  space,  car- 
rying a  hundred  innocent  souls  and  light  hearts, 
and  among  them  deadly  crime  and  vengeance — the 
doomed  man  and  his  executioner.     His  very  heart 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  359 

shuddered  in  his  breast  as  he  made  a  faltering  effort 
to  explain  himself,  and  get  free  from  the  crowd  which 
thought  him  mad.  That  sight  quenched  the  curses 
on  his  own  lips,  paled  the  fire  in  his  heart.  To  see 
her  dogging  his  steps,  with  her  dreadful  relentless 
promise  in  her  eyes,  overwhelmed  Vincent,  who  a 
moment  before  had  thrilled  with  all  the  rage  of  a 
man  upon  whom  this  villain  had  brought  the  direst 
shame  and  calamity.  He  could  have  dashed  him 
under  those  wheels,  plunged  him  into  any  mad  de- 
struction, in  the  first  passionate  whirl  of  his  thoughts 
on  seeing  him  again  ;  but  to  see  Her  behind  follow- 
ing after — pale  with  her  horrible  composure,  a  con- 
scious Death  tracking  his  very  steps — drove  Vincent 
back  with  a  sudden  paralysing  touch.  He  stood 
chilled  and  horror-stricken  in  the  crowd,  which 
watched  and  wondered  at  him :  he  drew  himself 
feebly  out  of  their  detaining  circle,  and  went  and 
sat  down  on  the  nearest  seat  he  could  find,  like  a  man 
who  had  been  stunned  by  some  unexpected  blow. 
He  was  not  impatient  when  he  heard  how  long  he 
must  wait  before  he  could  follow  them.  It  was  a 
relief  to  wait,  to  recover  his  breath,  to  realise  his  own 
position  once  more.  That  dreadful  sight,  diabolical 
and  out  of  nature,  had  driven  the  very  life-blood  out 
of  his  heart. 


360       CHRONICLES  OF  CARLIXGFORD  : 

As  he  sat,  flung  upon  his  bench  in  utter  exhaustion 
and  feebleness,  stunned  and  stupified,  leaning  his 
aching  head  in  his  hands,  and  with  many  curious 
glances  thrown  at  him  by  the  bystanders,  some  of 
whom  were  not  sure  that  he  ought  to  be  suffered  to 
go  at  large,  Vincent  became  sensible  that  some  one 
was  plucking  at  his  sleeve,  and  sobbing  his  name. 
It  was  some  time  before  he  became  aware  that  those 
weeping  accents  were  addressed  to  him ;  some  time 
longer  before  he  began  to  think  he  had  heard  the 
voice  before,  and  was. so  far  moved  as  to  look  up. 
When  he  did  raise  his  head  it  was  with  a  violent 
start  that  he  saw  a  little  rustic  figure,  energetically, 
but  with  tears,  appealing  to  him,  whom  his  bewil- 
dered faculties  slowly  made  out  to  be  Mary,  his 
mother's  maid,  whom  Susan  had  taken  with  her 
when  she  left  Lonsdale.  As  soon  as  he  recognised 
her  he  sprang  up,  restored  to  himself  with  the  first 
gleam  of  real  hope  which  had  yet  visited  him.  "  My 
sister  is  here!"  he  cried,  almost  with  joy.  Mary 
made  no  answer  but  by  a  despairing  outbreak  of 
tears. 

"  Oh  no,  Mr  Arthur ;  no — oh  no,  no !  never  no 
more  ! "  cried  poor  Mary,  when  she  found  her  voice. 
"  It's  all  been  deceitfulness  and  lyin'  and  falsehood, 
and  it  ain't  none  o'  her  doing — oh  no,  no,  Mr  Arthur, 


SALEM    CHAPEL.  361 

no  ! — but  now  she's  got  nobody  to  stand  by  her,  for 
he  took  and  brought  me  up  this  very  day  ;  oh,  don't 
lose  no  time  ! — he  took  and  brought  me  up,  pretend- 
ing it  was  to  show  me  the  way,  and  he  sent  me  right 
off,  Mr  Arthur,  and  she  don't  know  no  more  nor  a 
baby,  and  he'll  take  her  off  over  the  seas  this  very 
night — he  will ;  for  I  had  it  of  his  own  man.  She's 
written  letters  to  her  Ma,  Mr  Arthur,  but  I  don't 
think  as  they  were  ever  took  to  the  post ;  and  he 
makes  believe  they're  a-going  to  be  married,  and 
he'll  have  her  off  to  France  to-night.  Oh,  Mr  Arthur, 
Mr  Arthur,  don't  lose  no  time.  They're  at  a  'otel. 
Look  you  here — here's  the  name  as  I  wrote  down  on 
a  bit  o'  paper  to  make  sure  ;  and  oh,  Mr  Arthur, 
mind  what  I  say,  and  don't  lose  no  time  ! " 

"But  Susan  —  Susan  —  what  of  her?"  cried  her 
brother,  unconsciously  clutching  at  the  girl's  arm. 

Mary  burst  into  another  flood  of  tears.     She  hid 

her  face,  and  cried  with  storms  of  suppressed  sobs. 

The  young  man  rose  up  pale   and   stern  from  his 

seat,  without  asking  another  question.     He  took  the 

crumpled  paper  out  of  her  hand,  put  some  money 

into  it,  and  in  few  words  directed  her  to  go  to  his 

mother  at  Carlingford.     What  though  the  sight  of 

her  would  break  his  mother's  heart — what  did  it 

matter?     Hearts  were  made  to  be  broken,  trodden 
VOL.  I.  2A 


362       OHBONICLES  OF  CABLINGFORD. 

on,  killed — so  be  it !  Pale  and  fierce,  with  eyes 
burning  red  in  his  throbbing  head,  he  too  went  on, 
a  second  Murder,  after  the  first  which  had  preceded 
him  in  the  shape  of  the  Carlingford  needlewoman. 
The  criminal  who  escaped  two  such  avengers  must 
bear  a  charmed  life. 


END    OF    THE     FIRST     VOLUME. 


PRINTED    BY    WILLIAM    BLACKWOOD    AND   SON8,    EDINBURGH. 


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