As for Reverend Finch, he talked his way through his share of thetroubles that were trying us now, at the full compass of his voice.
If you had heard the little priest in those days, you would have supposedthat nobody could feel our domestic misfortunes as _he_ felt them, andgrieve over them as _he_ grieved. He was a sight to see, on the day ofthe medical consultation; strutting up and down his wife's sitting-room,and haranguing his audience--composed of his wife and myself. Mrs. Finchsat in one corner, with the baby and the novel, and the petticoat and theshawl. I occupied the other corner; summoned to "consult with therector." In plain words, summoned to hear Mr. Finch declare that he wasthe person principally overshadowed by the cloud which hung on thehousehold.
"I despair, Madame Pratolungo--I assure you, I despair--of conveying anyidea of how _I_ feel under this most melancholy state of things. You havebeen very good; you have shown the sympathy of a true friend. But youcannot possibly understand how this blow has fallen on Me. I am crushed.Madame Pratolungo!" (he appealed to me, in my corner); "Mrs. Finch!" (heappealed to his wife, in _her_ corner)--"I am crushed. There is no otherword to express it but the word I have used. Crushed." He stopped in themiddle of the room. He looked expectantly at me--he looked expectantly athis wife. His face and manner said plainly, "If both these women faint, Ishall consider it a natural and becoming proceeding on their parts, afterwhat I have just told them." I waited for the lead of the lady of thehouse. Mrs. Finch did not roll prostrate, with the baby and the novel, onthe floor. Thus encouraged, I presumed to keep my seat. The rector stillwaited for us. I looked as miserable as I could. Mrs. Finch cast her eyesup reverentially at her husband, as if she thought him the noblest ofcreated beings, and silently put her handkerchief to her eyes. Mr. Finchwas satisfied; Mr. Finch went on. "My health has suffered--I assure you,Madame Pratolungo, MY health has suffered. Since this sad occurrence, mystomach has given way. My balance is lost--my usual regularity is gone. Iam subject--entirely through this miserable business--to fits of morbidappetite. I want things at wrong times--breakfast in the middle of thenight; dinner at four in the morning. I want something now!" Mr. Finchstopped, horror-struck at his condition; pondering with his eyebrowsfiercely knit, and his hand pressed convulsively on the lower buttons ofhis rusty black waistcoat. Mrs. Finch's watery blue eyes looked acrossthe room at me, in a moist melancholy of conjugal distress. The rector,suddenly enlightened after his consultation with his stomach, strutted tothe door, flung it wide open, and called down the kitchen stairs with avoice of thunder, "Poach me an egg!" He came back into the room--heldanother consultation, keeping his eyes severely fixed on me--struttedback in a furious hurry to the door--and bellowed a counter-order downthe kitchen-stairs, "No egg! Do me a red herring!" He came back for thesecond time, with his eyes closed and his hand laid distractedly on hishead. He appealed alternately to Mrs. Finch and to me. "See foryourselves--Mrs. Finch! Madame Pratolungo!--see for yourselves what astate I am in. It's simply pitiable. I hesitate about the most triflingthings. First, I think I want a poached egg--then, I think I want a redherring--now I don't know what I want. Upon my word of honor as aclergyman and a gentleman, I don't know what I want! Morbid appetite allday; morbid wakefulness all night--what a condition! I can't rest. Idisturb my wife at night. Mrs. Finch! I disturb you at night. How manytimes--since this misfortune fell upon us--do I turn in bed before I falloff to sleep? Eight times? Are you certain of it? Don't exaggerate! Areyou certain you counted! Very well: good creature! I never remember--Iassure you, Madame Pratolungo, I never remember--such a complete upset asthis before. The nearest approach to it was some years since, at mywife's last confinement but four. Mrs. Finch! was it at your lastconfinement but four? or your last but five? Your last but four? Are yousure. Are you certain you are not misleading our friend here? Very well:good creature! Pecuniary difficulties, Madame Pratolungo, were at thebottom of it on that last occasion. I got over the pecuniarydifficulties. How am I to get over this? My plans for Oscar and Lucillawere completely arranged. My relations with my wedded children werepleasantly laid out. I saw my own future; I saw the future of my family.What do I see now? All, so to speak, annihilated at a blow. InscrutableProvidence!" He paused, and lifted his eyes and hands devotionally to theceiling. The cook appeared with the red herring. "InscrutableProvidence"--proceeded Mr. Finch, a tone lower. "Eat it, dear," said Mrs.Finch, "while it's hot." The rector paused again. His unresting tongueurged him to proceed; his undisciplined stomach clamored for the herring.The cook uncovered the dish. Mr. Finch's nose instantly sided with Mr.Finch's stomach. He stopped at "Inscrutable Providence"--and peppered hisherring.
Having reported how the rector spoke, in the presence of the disasterwhich had fallen on the family, I have only to complete the picture bystating next what he did. He borrowed two hundred pounds of Oscar; andleft off commanding red herrings in the day and disturbing Mrs. Finch atnight, immediately afterwards.