CHAPTER IV.
MR. COMFORT CALLS AT THE COTTAGE.
Mrs. Ray, in her trouble occasioned by Luke's letter, had walked upto Mr. Comfort's house, but had not found him at home. Thereforeshe had written to him, in his own study, a few very simple words,telling the matter on which she wanted his advice. Almost any otherwoman would have half hidden her real meaning under a cloud ofambiguous words; but with her there was no question of hidinganything from her clergyman. "Rachel has had a letter from young Mr.Rowan," she said, "and I have begged her not to answer it till I haveshown it to you." So Mr. Comfort sent word down to Bragg's End thathe would call at the cottage, and fixed an hour for his coming. Thistask was to be accomplished by him on the morning after Dr. Harford'sdinner; and he had thought much of the coming conference betweenhimself and Rachel's mother while Rowan's character was beingdiscussed at Dr. Harford's house: but on that occasion he had saidnothing to any one, not even to his daughter, of the applicationwhich had been made to him by Mrs. Ray. At eleven o'clock hepresented himself at the cottage door, and, of course, found Mrs.Ray alone. Rachel had taken herself over to Mrs. Sturt, and greatlyamazed that kindhearted person by her silence and confusion. "Why,my dear," said Mrs. Sturt, "you hain't got a word to-day to throw ata dog." Rachel acknowledged that she had not; and then Mrs. Sturtallowed her to remain in her silence.
"Oh, Mr. Comfort, this is so good of you!" Mrs. Ray began as soon asher friend was inside the parlour. "When I went up to the parsonageI didn't think of bringing you down here all the way;--I didn'tindeed." Mr. Comfort assured her that he thought nothing of thetrouble, declared that he owed her a visit, and then asked afterRachel.
"To tell you the truth, then, she's just stept across the green toMrs. Sturt's, so as to be out of the way. It's a trying time to her,Mr. Comfort,--very; and whatever way it goes, she's a good girl,--avery good girl."
"You needn't tell me that, Mrs. Ray."
"Oh! but I must. There's her sister thinks she's encouraged thisyoung man too freely, but--"
"By-the-by, Mrs. Ray, I've been told that Mrs. Prime is engaged to bemarried herself."
"Have you, now?"
"Well, yes; I heard it in Baslehurst yesterday;--to Mr. Prong."
"She's kept it so close, Mr. Comfort, I didn't think anybody hadheard it."
"It is true, then?"
"I can't say she has accepted him yet. He has offered toher;--there's no doubt about that, Mr. Comfort,--and she hasn't saidhim no."
"Do let her look sharp after her money," said Mr. Comfort.
"Well, that's just it. She's not a bit inclined to give it up to him,I can tell you."
"I can't say, Mrs. Ray, that the connexion is one that I like verymuch, in any way. There's no reason at all why your eldest daughtershould not marry again, but--"
"What can I do, Mr. Comfort? Of course I know he's not just what heshould be,--that is, for a clergyman. When I knew he hadn't comefrom any of the colleges, I never had any fancy for going to hearhim myself. But of course I should never have left your church, Mr.Comfort,--not if anybody had come there. And if I could have had myway with Dorothy, she would never have gone near him,--never. Butwhat could I do, Mr. Comfort? Of course she can go where she likes."
"Mr. Prime was a gentleman and a Christian," said the vicar.
"That he was, Mr. Comfort; and a husband for a young woman to beproud of. But he was soon taken away from her--very soon! and shehasn't thought much of this world since."
"I don't know what she's thinking of now."
"It isn't of herself, Mr. Comfort; not a bit. Dorothy is very stern;but, to give her her due, it's not herself she's thinking of."
"Why does she want to marry him, then?"
"Because he's lonely without some one to do for him."
"Lonely!--and he should be lonely for me, Mrs. Ray."
"And because she says she can work in the vineyard better as aclergyman's wife."
"Pshaw! work in the vineyard, indeed! But it's no business of mine;and, as you say, I suppose you can't help it."
"Indeed I can't. She'd never think of asking me."
"I hope she'll look after her money, that's all. And what's all thisabout my friend Rachel? I'd a great deal sooner hear that she wasgoing to be married,--if I knew that the man was worthy of her."
Then Mrs. Ray put her hand into her pocket, and taking out Rowan'sletter, gave it to the vicar to read. As she did so, she looked intohis face with eyes full of the most intense anxiety. She was herselfgreatly frightened by the magnitude of this marriage question.She feared the enmity of Mrs. Rowan; and she doubted the firmnessof Luke. She could not keep herself from reflecting that a youngman from London was very dangerous; that he might probably be awolf; that she could not be safe in trusting her one lamb intosuch custody. But, nevertheless, she most earnestly hoped that Mr.Comfort's verdict might be in the young man's favour. If he wouldonly say that the young man was not a wolf,--if he would only takeupon his own clerical shoulders the responsibility of trusting theyoung man,--Mrs. Ray would become for the moment one of the happiestwomen in Devonshire. With what a beaming face,--with what a truejoy,--with what smiles through her tears, would she then havewelcomed Rachel back from the farm-house! How she would have watchedher as she came across the green, beckoning to her eagerly, andtelling all her happy tale beforehand by the signs of her joy! Butthere was to be no such happy tale as that told on this morning. Shewatched the vicar's face as he read the letter, and soon perceivedthat the verdict was to be given against the writer of it. I do notknow that Mrs. Ray was particularly quick at reading the countenancesof men, but, in this instance, she did read the countenance of Mr.Comfort. We, all of us, read more in the faces of those with whom wehold converse, than we are aware of doing. Of the truth, or want oftruth in every word spoken to us, we judge, in great part, by theface of the speaker. By the face of every man and woman seen by us,whether they speak or are silent, we form a judgment,--and in ninecases out of ten our judgment is true. It is because our tenthjudgment,--that judgment which has been wrong,--comes back upon usalways with the effects of its error, that we teach ourselves tosay that appearances cannot be trusted. If we did not trust themwe should be walking ever in doubt, in darkness, and in ignorance.As Mr. Comfort read the letter, Mrs. Ray knew that it would not beallowed to her to speak words of happiness to Rachel on that day. Sheknew that the young man was to be set down as dangerous; but she wasby no means aware that she was reading the vicar's face with preciseaccuracy. Mr. Comfort had been slow in his perusal, weighing thewords of the letter; and when he had finished it he slowly refoldedthe paper and put it back into its envelope. "He means what he says,"said he, as he gave the letter back to Mrs. Ray.
"Yes; I think he means what he says."
"But we cannot tell how long he may mean it; nor can we tell as yetwhether such a connection would be good for Rachel, even if he shouldremain stedfast in such meaning. If you ask me, Mrs. Ray--"
"I do ask you, Mr. Comfort."
"Then I think we should all of us know more about him, before weallow Rachel to give him encouragement;--I do indeed."
Mrs. Ray could not quite repress in her heart a slight feeling ofanger against the vicar. She remembered the words,--so different notonly in their meaning, but in the tone in which they were spoken,--inwhich he had sanctioned Rachel's going to the ball: "Young peopleget to think of each other," he had then said, speaking withgood-humoured, cheery voice, as though such thinking were worthy ofall encouragement. He had spoken then of marriage being the happiestcondition for both men and women, and had inquired as to Rowan'smeans. Every word that had then fallen from him had expressed hisopinion that Luke Rowan was an eligible lover. But now he was namedas though he were undoubtedly a wolf. Why had not Mr. Comfort saidthen, at that former interview, when no harm had as yet been done,that it would be desirable to know more of the young man before anyencouragement was given to him? Mrs. Ray felt that she was injured;but, nevertheless, her trust in her counsellor was not on th
ataccount the less.
"I suppose it must be answered," said Mrs. Ray.
"Oh, yes; of course it should be answered."
"And who should write it, Mr. Comfort?"
"Let Rachel write it herself. Let her tell him that she is notprepared to correspond with him as yet, any further that is, youunderstand, than the writing of that letter."
"And about,--about,--about what he says as to loving her, you know?There has been a sort of promise between them, Mr. Comfort, and noyoung man could have spoken more honestly than he did."
"And he meant honestly, no doubt; but you see, Mrs. Ray, it isnecessary to be so careful in these matters! It is quite evident hismother doesn't wish this marriage."
"And he shouldn't have called her a goose; should he?"
"I don't think much about that."
"Don't you, now?"
"It was all meant in good-humour. But she thinks it a bad marriagefor him as regards money, and money considerations always go so far,you know. And then he's away, and you've got no hold upon him."
"That's quite true, Mr. Comfort."
"He has quarrelled with the people here. And upon my word I'minclined to think he has not behaved very well to Mr. Tappitt."
"Hasn't he, now?"
"I'm afraid not, Mrs. Ray. They were talking about him last night inBaslehurst, and I'm afraid he has behaved badly at the brewery. Therewere words between him and Mr. Tappitt,--very serious words."
"Yes; I know that. He told Rachel as much as that. I think he said hewas going to law with Mr. Tappitt."
"And if so, the chances are that he may never be seen here again.It's ill coming to a place where one is quarrelling with people. Andas to the lawsuit, it seems to me, from what I hear, that he wouldcertainly lose it. No doubt he has a considerable property in thebrewery; but he wants to be master of everything, and that can't bereasonable, you know. And then, Mrs. Ray, there's worse than thatbehind."
"Worse than that!" said Mrs. Ray, in whose heart every gleam ofcomfort was quickly being extinguished by darkening shadows.
"They tell me that he has gone away without paying his debts. If thatis so, it shows that his means cannot be very good." Then why had Mr.Comfort taken upon himself expressly to say that they were good atthat interview before Mrs. Tappitt's party? That was the thought inthe widow's mind at the present moment. Mr. Comfort, however, wenton with his caution. "And then, when the happiness of such a girl asRachel is concerned, it is impossible to be too careful. Where shouldwe all be if we found that we had given her to a scamp?"
"Oh dear, oh dear! I don't think he can be a scamp;--he did take histea so nicely."
"I don't say he is;--I don't judge him. But then we should becareful. Why didn't he pay his debts before he went away? A young manshould always pay his debts."
"Perhaps he's sent it down in a money-order," said Mrs. Ray. "Theyare so very convenient,--that is if you've got the money."
"If he hasn't I hope he will, for I can assure you I don't want tothink badly of him. Maybe he will turn out all right. And you may besure of this, Mrs. Ray, that if he is really attached to Rachel hewon't give her up, because she doesn't throw herself into his arms athis first word. There's nothing becomes a young woman like a littlecaution, or makes a young man think more of her. If Rachel fanciesthat she likes him let her hold back a while and find out what sortof stuff he's made of. If I were her I should just tell him thatI thought it better to wait a little before I made any positiveengagement."
"But, Mr. Comfort, how is she to begin it? You see he calls herDearest Rachel."
"Let her say Dear Mr. Rowan. There can't be any harm in that."
"She mustn't call him Luke, I suppose."
"I think she'd better not. Young men think so much of those things."
"And she's not to say 'Yours affectionately' at the end?"
"She'll understand all that when she comes to write the letter betterthan we can tell her. Give her my love; and tell her from me I'mquite sure she's a dear, good girl, and that it must be a greatcomfort to you to know that you can trust her so thoroughly." Then,having spoken these last words, Mr. Comfort took himself away.
Rachel, sitting in the window of Mrs. Sturt's large front kitchen onthe other side of the green, could see Mr. Comfort come forth fromthe cottage and get into his low four-wheeled carriage, which, withhis boy in livery, had been standing at the garden gate during theinterview. Mrs. Sturt was away among the milk-pans, scalding cream orpreparing butter, and did not watch either Rachel or the visitor atthe cottage. But she knew with tolerable accuracy what was going on,and with all her heart wished that her young friend might have luckwith her lover. Rachel waited for a minute or two till the littlecarriage was out of sight, till the sound of the wheels could be nolonger heard, and then she prepared to move. She slowly got herselfup from her chair as though she were afraid to show herself upon thegreen, and paused still a few moments longer before she left thekitchen.
"So, thou's off," said Mrs. Sturt, coming in from the back regions ofher territory, with the sleeves of her gown tucked up, enveloped in alarge roundabout apron which covered almost all her dress. Mrs. Sturtwould no more have thought of doing her work in the front kitchenthan I should think of doing mine in the drawing-room. "So thou's offhome again, my lass," said Mrs. Sturt.
"Yes, Mrs. Sturt. Mr. Comfort has been with mamma,--about business;and as I didn't want to be in the way I just came over to you."
"Thou art welcome, as flowers in May, morning or evening; but theeknowest that, girl. As for Mr. Comfort,--it's cold comfort he is, Ialways say. It's little I think of what clergymen says, unless it beout of the pulpit or the like of that. What does they know about ladsand lasses?"
"He's a very old friend of mamma's."
"Old friends is always best, I'll not deny that. But, look thee here,my girl; my man's an old friend too. He's know'd thee since he liftedthee in his arms to pull the plums off that bough yonder; and he'sseen thee these ten years a deal oftener than Mr. Comfort. If theysay anything wrong of thy joe there, tell me, and Sturt 'll find outwhether it be true or no. Don't let ere a parson in Devonshire robthee of thy sweetheart. It's passing sweet, when true hearts meet.But it breaks the heart, when true hearts part." With the salutaryadvice contained in these ancient local lines Mrs. Sturt put her armsround Rachel, and having kissed her, bade her go.
With slow step she made her way across the green, hardly daring tolook to the door of the cottage. But there was no figure standingat the door; and let her have looked with all her eyes, there wasnothing there to have told her anything. She walked very slowly,thinking as she went of Mrs. Sturt's words--"Don't let ere a parsonin Devonshire rob thee of thy sweetheart." Was it not hard upon herthat she should be subjected to the misery of such discussion, seeingthat she had given no hope, either to her lover or to herself, tillshe had received full warranty for doing so? She would do what hermother should bid her, let it be what it might; but she would bewronged,--she felt that she would be wronged and injured, grievouslyinjured, if her mother should now bid her think of Rowan as onethinks of those that are gone.
She entered the cottage slowly, and turning into the parlour, foundher mother seated there on the old sofa, opposite to the fireplace.She was seated there in stiff composure, waiting the work which shehad to do. It was no customary place of hers, and she was a womanwho, in the ordinary occupations of her life, never deserted hercustomary places. She had an old easy chair near the fireplace, andanother smaller chair close to the window, and in one of these shemight always be found, unless when, on special occasions like thepresent, some great thing had occurred to throw her out of thegrooves of her life.
"Well, mamma?" said Rachel, coming in and standing before her mother.Mrs. Ray, before she spoke, looked up into her child's face, and wasafraid. "Well, mamma, what has Mr. Comfort said?"
Was it not hard for Mrs. Ray that at such a moment she should havehad no sort of husband on whom to lean? Does the reader remember thatin the opening words
of this story Mrs. Ray was described as a womanwho specially needed some standing-corner, some post, some strongprop to bear her weight,--some marital authority by which she mightbe guided? Such prop and such guiding she had never needed moresorely than she needed them now. She looked up into Rachel's facebefore she spoke, and was afraid. "He has been here, my dear," shesaid, "and has gone away."
"Yes, mamma, I knew that," said Rachel. "I saw his phaeton drive off;that's why I came over from Mrs. Sturt's."
Rachel's voice was hard, and there was no comfort in it. It was sohard that Mrs. Ray felt it to be unkind. No doubt Rachel suffered;but did not she suffer also? Would not she have given blood from herbreast, like the maternal pelican, to have secured from that clericalcounsellor a verdict that might have been comforting to her child?Would she not have made any sacrifice of self for such a verdict,even though the effecting of it must have been that she herself wouldhave been left alone and deserted in the world? Why, then, shouldRachel be stern to her? If misery was to fall on both of them, it wasnot of her doing.
"I know you will think it's my fault, Rachel; but I cannot help it,even though you should say so. Of course I was obliged to ask someone; and who else was there that would be able to tell me so wellas Mr. Comfort? You would not have liked it at all if I had gone toDorothea; and as for Mr. Prong--"
"Oh! mamma, mamma, don't! I haven't said anything. I haven'tcomplained of Mr. Comfort. What has he said now? You forget that youhave not told me."
"No, my dear, I don't forget; I wish I could. He says that Mr. Rowanhas behaved badly to Mr. Tappitt, and that he hasn't paid his debts,and that the lawsuit will be sure to go against him, and that he willnever show his face in Baslehurst again; and he says, too, that itwould be very wrong for you to correspond with him,--very; because ayoung girl like you must be so careful about such things; and he sayshe'll be much more likely to respect you if you don't,--don't,--don'tjust throw yourself into his arms like. Those were his very words;and then he says that if he really cares for you, he'll be sure tocome back again, and so you're to answer the letter, and you mustcall him Dear Mr. Rowan. Don't call him Luke, because young men thinkso much about those things. And you are to tell him that there isn'tto be any engagement, or any letter-writing, or anything of that sortat all. But you can just say something friendly,--about hoping he'squite well, or something of that kind. And then when you come to theend, you had better sign yourself 'Yours truly.' It won't do to sayanything about affection, because one never knows how it may turnout. And,--let me see; there was only one thing more. Mr. Comfortsays that you are a good girl, and that he is sure you have donenothing wrong,--not even in a word or a thought; and I say so too.You are my own beautiful child; and, Rachel,--I do so wish I couldmake it all right between you."
Nobody can deny that Mrs. Ray had given, with very fair accuracy, anepitome of Mr. Comfort's words; but they did not leave upon Rachel'smind a very clear idea of what she was expected to do. "Go away indebt!" she said; "who says so?"
"Mr. Comfort told me so just now. But perhaps he'll send the money ina money-order, you know."
"I don't think he would go away in debt. And why should the lawsuitgo against him if he's got right on his side? He does not wish to doany harm to Mr. Tappitt."
"I don't know about that, my dear; but at any rate they'vequarrelled."
"But why shouldn't that be Mr. Tappitt's fault as much as his? And asfor not showing his face in Baslehurst--! Oh, mamma! don't you knowhim well enough to be sure that he will never be ashamed of showinghis face anywhere? He not show his face! Mamma, I don't believe aword of it all,--not a word."
"Mr. Comfort said so; he did indeed." Then Mrs. Sturt's words cameback upon Rachel. "Don't let ere a parson in Devonshire rob thee ofthy sweetheart." This lover of hers was her only possession,--theonly thing of her own winning that she had ever valued. He was hergreat triumph, the rich upshot of her own prowess,--and now she feltthat this parson was indeed robbing her. Had he been then present,she would have risen up and spoken at him, as she had never spokenbefore. The spirit of rebellion against all the world was strongwithin her;--against all the world except that one weak woman who nowsat before her on the sofa. Her eyes were full of anger, and Mrs. Raysaw that it was so; but still she was minded to obey her mother.
"It's no good talking," said Rachel; "but when they say that he'safraid to show himself in Baslehurst, I don't believe them. Does helook like a man afraid to show himself?"
"Looks are so deceitful, Rachel."
"And as for debts,--people, if they're called away by telegraph in aminute, can't pay all that they owe. There are plenty of people inBaslehurst that owe a deal more than he does, I'm sure. And he's gothis share in the brewery, so that nobody need be afraid."
"Mr. Comfort didn't say that you were to quarrel with himaltogether."
"Mr. Comfort! What's Mr. Comfort to me, mamma?" This was said in sucha tone that Mrs. Ray absolutely started up from her seat.
"But, Rachel, he is my oldest friend. He was your father's friend."
"Why did he not say it before, then? Why--why--why--? Mamma, I can'tthrow him off now. Didn't I tell him that,--that,--that I would--lovehim? Didn't you say that it might be so,--you yourself? How am I toshow my face, if I go back now? Mamma, I do love him, with all myheart and all my strength, and nothing that anybody can say can makeany difference. If he owed ever so much money I should love him thesame. If he had killed Mr. Tappitt it wouldn't make any difference."
"Oh, Rachel!"
"No more it would. If Mr. Tappitt began it first, it wasn't hisfault."
"But Rachel, my darling,--what can we do? If he has gone away wecannot make him come back again."
"But he wrote almost immediately."
"And you are going to answer it;--are you not?"
"Yes;--but what sort of an answer, mamma? How can I expect that hewill ever want to see me again when I have written to him in thatway? I won't say anything about hoping that he's very well. If I maynot tell him that he's my own, own, own Luke, and that I love himwith all my heart, I'll bid him stay away and not trouble himself anyfurther. I wonder what he'll think of me when I write in that way!"
"If he's constant-hearted he'll wait a while and then he'll come backagain."
"Why should he come back when I've treated him in that way? What haveI got to give him? Mamma, you may write the letter yourself, and putin it what you please."
"Mr. Comfort said that you had better write it."
"Mr. Comfort! I don't know why I'm to do all that Mr. Comfort tellsme," and then those other words of Mrs. Sturt's recurred to her,"It's little I think of what a clergyman says unless it be out of apulpit." After that there was nothing further said for some minutes.Mrs. Ray still sat on the sofa, and as she gazed upon the tablewhich stood in the middle of the room, she wiped her eyes with herhandkerchief. Rachel was now seated in a chair with her back almostturned to her mother, and was beating with her impatient fingers onthe table. She was very angry,--angry even with her mother; and shewas half broken-hearted, truly believing that such a letter as thatwhich she was desired to write would estrange her lover from her forever. So they sat, and for a few minutes no word was spoken betweenthem.
"Rachel," said Mrs. Ray at last, "if wrong has been done, is it notbetter that it should be undone?"
"What wrong have I done?" said Rachel, jumping up.
"It is I that have done it,--not you."
"No, mamma; you have done no wrong."
"I should have known more before I let him come here and encouragedyou to think of him. It has been my fault. My dear, will you notforgive me?"
"Mamma, there has been no fault. There is nothing to forgive."
"I have made you unhappy, my child," and then Mrs. Ray burst out intoopen tears.
"No, mamma, I won't be unhappy;--or if I am I will bear it." Then shegot up and threw her arms round her mother's neck, and embraced her."I will write the letter, but I will not write it now. You shall seeit before it goes."
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