A Tale of a Lonely Parish Part 13

CHAPTER IX.

The squire had remarked that John Short seemed to have a peculiar temper, and Mrs. G.o.ddard had observed the same thing. What has gone before sufficiently explains the change in John's manner, and the difference in his behaviour was plainly apparent even to Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose. The vicar indeed was wise enough to see that John was very much attracted by Mrs. G.o.ddard, but he was also wise enough to say nothing about it. His wife, however, who had witnessed no love-making for nearly thirty years, except the courts.h.i.+p of the young physician who had married her daughter, attributed John's demeanour to no such disturbing cause. He was overworked, she said; he was therefore irritable; he had of course never taken that excellent h.o.m.oeopathic remedy, highly diluted aconite, since he had left the vicarage; the consequence was that he was subject to nervous headache--she only hoped he would not be taken ill on the eve of the examination for honours. She hoped, too, that he would prolong his holiday to the very last moment, for the country air and the rest he enjoyed were sure to do him so much good. With regard, to the extension of John's visit, the vicar thought differently, although he held his peace. There were many reasons why John should not become attached to Mrs. G.o.ddard both for her sake and his own, and if he staid long, the vicar felt quite sure that he would fall in love with her. She was dangerously pretty, she was much older than John--which in the case of very young men const.i.tutes an additional probability--she evidently took an innocent pleasure in his society, and altogether such a complication as was likely to ensue was highly undesirable. Therefore, when Mrs.

Ambrose pressed John to stay longer than he had intended, the vicar not only gave him no encouragement, but spoke gravely of the near approach of the contest for honours, of the necessity of concentrating every force for the coming struggle, and expressed at the same time the firm conviction that, if John did his best, he ought to be the senior cla.s.sic in the year.

Even Mrs. G.o.ddard urged him to go. Of course he asked her advice. He would not have lost that opportunity of making her speak of himself, nor of gauging the exact extent of the interest he hoped she felt in him.

It was two or three days after the long conversation he had enjoyed with her. In that time they had met often and John's admiration for her, strengthened by his own romantic desire to be really in love, had begun to a.s.sume proportions which startled Mrs. G.o.ddard and annoyed Mr. Juxon.

The latter felt that the boy was in his way; whenever he wanted to see Mrs. G.o.ddard, John was at her side, talking eagerly and contesting his position against the squire with a fierceness which in an older and wiser man would have been in the worst possible taste. Even as it was, Mr.

Juxon looked considerably annoyed as he stood by, smoothing his smooth hair from time to time with his large white hand and feeling that even at his age, and with his experience, a man might sometimes cut a poor figure.

On the particular occasion when the relations between John and the squire became an object of comment to Mrs. Ambrose, the whole party were a.s.sembled at Mrs. G.o.ddard's cottage. She had invited everybody to tea, a meal which in her little household represented a compromise between her appet.i.te and Nellie's. She had felt that in the small festivities of the Billingsfield Christmas season she was called upon to do her share with the rest and, being a simple woman, she took her part simply, and did not dignify the entertainment of her four friends by calling it a dinner. The occasion was none the less hospitable, for she gave both time and thought to her preparations. Especially she had considered the question of precedence; it was doubtful, she thought, whether the squire or the vicar should sit upon her right hand. The squire, as being lord of the manor, represented the powers temporal, the vicar on the other hand represented the church, which on ordinary occasions takes precedence of the lay faculty. She had at last privately consulted Mr. Juxon, in whom she had the greatest confidence, asking him frankly which she should do, and Mr.

Juxon had unhesitatingly yielded the post of honour to the vicar, adding to enforce his opinion the very plausible argument that if he, the squire, took Mrs. G.o.ddard in to tea, the vicar would have to give his arm either to little Nellie or to his own wife. Mrs. G.o.ddard was convinced and the affair was a complete success.

John felt that he could not complain of his position, but as he was separated from the object of his admiration during the whole meal, he resolved to indemnify himself for his sufferings by monopolising her conversation during the rest of the evening. The squire on the other hand, who had been obliged to talk to Mrs. Ambrose during most of the time while they were at table, and who, moreover, was beginning to feel that he had seen almost enough of John Short, determined to give the young man a lesson in the art of interesting women in general and Mrs.

G.o.ddard in particular. She, indeed, would not have been a woman at all had she not understood the two men and their intentions. After tea the party congregated round the fire in the little drawing-room, standing in a circle, of which their hostess formed the centre. Mr. Juxon and John, antic.i.p.ating that Mrs. G.o.ddard must ultimately sit upon one side or other of the fireplace had at first chosen opposite sides, each hoping that she would take the chair nearest to himself. But Mrs. G.o.ddard remained standing an unreasonably long time, for the very reason that she did not choose to sit beside either of them. Seeing this the squire, who had perhaps a greater experience than his adversary in this kind of strategic warfare, left his place and put himself on the same side as John. He argued that Mrs. G.o.ddard would probably then choose the opposite side, whereas John who was younger would think she would come towards the two where they stood; John would consequently lose time, Mr. Juxon would cross again and install himself by her side while his enemy was hesitating.

While these moves and counter-moves were proceeding, the conversation was general. The vicar was for the hundredth time admiring the Andrea del Sarto over the chimney-piece and his wife was explaining her general objections to the representation of sacred subjects upon canvas, while Mrs. G.o.ddard answered each in turn and endeavoured to disagree with neither. What the squire had foreseen when he made his last move, however, actually took place at last. Mrs. G.o.ddard established herself upon the side opposite the two men. Mr. Juxon crossed rapidly to where she was seated, and Mrs. Ambrose, who had turned with the intention of speaking to the squire, found herself confronted by John. He saw that he had been worsted by his foe and immediately lost his temper; but being brought face to face with Mrs. Ambrose was obliged to control it as he might. That excellent lady beamed upon him with a maternal smile of the kind which is peculiarly irritating to young men. He struggled to get away however, glancing over Mrs. Ambrose's shoulder at the squire and longing to be "at him" as he would have expressed it. But the squire was not to be got at so easily, for the vicar's wife was of a fine presence and covered much ground. John involuntarily thought of the d.y.k.e before Troy, of Hector and his heroes attempting to storm it and of the Ajaces and Sarpedon defending it and glaring down from above. He could appreciate Hector's feelings--Mrs. Ambrose was very like the d.y.k.e.

The squire smiled serenely and smoothed his hair as he talked to Mrs.

G.o.ddard and she herself looked by no means discontented, thereby adding, as it were, an insult to the injury done to John.

"I shall always envy you the cottage," the squire was saying. "I have not a single room in the Hall that is half so cheery in the evening."

"I shall never forget my terror when we first met," answered Mrs.

G.o.ddard, "do you remember? You frightened me by saying you would like to live here. I thought you meant it."

"You must have thought I was the most unmannerly of barbarians."

"Instead of being the best of landlords," added Mrs. G.o.ddard with a grateful smile.

"I hardly know whether I am that," said Mr. Juxon, settling himself in his chair. "But I believe I am by nature an exceedingly comfortable man, and I never fail to consult the interests of my comfort."

"And of mine. Think of all you have done to improve this place. I can never thank you enough. I suppose one always feels particularly grateful at Christmas time--does not one?"

"One has more to be grateful for, it seems to me--in our climate, too.

People in southern countries never really know what comfort means, because nature never makes them thoroughly uncomfortable. Only a man who is freezing can appreciate a good fire."

"I suppose you have been a good deal in such places," suggested Mrs.

G.o.ddard, vaguely.

"Oh yes--everywhere," answered the squire with equal indefiniteness. "By the bye, talking of travelling, when is our young friend going away?"

There was not a shade of ill-humour in the question.

"The day after New Year's--I believe."

"He has had a very pleasant visit."

"Yes," replied Mrs. G.o.ddard, "I hope it will do him a great deal of good."

"Why? Was he ill? Ah--I remember, they said he had worked too hard. It is a great mistake to work too hard, especially when one is very young."

"He is very young, is not he?" remarked Mrs. G.o.ddard with a faint smile, remembering the many conversations she had had with him.

"Very. Did it ever strike you that--well, that he was losing his head a little?"

"No," answered his companion innocently. "What about?"

"Oh, nothing. Only he has rather a peculiar temper. He is perpetually getting very angry with no ostensible reason--and then he glares at one like an angry cat."

"Take care," said Mrs. G.o.ddard, "he might hear you."

"Do him good," said the squire cheerfully.

"Oh, no! It would hurt his feelings dreadfully. How can you be so unkind?"

"He is a very good boy, you know. Really, I believe he is. Only he is inclined to be rather too unreasonable; I should think he might be satisfied."

"Satisfied with what?" inquired Mrs. G.o.ddard, who did not wish to understand.

"With the way you have treated him," returned the squire bluntly. "You have been wonderfully good to him."

"Have I?" The faint colour rose to her cheek. "I don't know--poor fellow!

I daresay his life at Cambridge is very dull."

"Yes. Entirely devoid of that species of amus.e.m.e.nt which he has enjoyed so abundantly in Billingsfield. It is not every undergraduate who has a chance to talk to you for a week at a time."

Mr. Juxon made the remark very calmly, without seeming to be in the least annoyed. He was much too wise a man to appear to be displeased at Mrs.

G.o.ddard's treatment of John. Moreover, he felt that on the present occasion, at least, John had been summarily worsted; it was his turn to be magnanimous.

"If you are going to make compliments, I will go away," said Mrs.

G.o.ddard.

"I? I never made a compliment in my life," replied the squire complacently. "Do you think it is a compliment to tell you that Mr. Short probably enjoys your conversation much more than the study of Greek roots?"

"Well--not exactly--"

"Besides, in general," continued the squire, "compliments are mere waste of breath. If a woman has any vanity she knows her own good points much better than any man who attempts to explain them to her; and if she has no vanity, no amount of explanation of her merits will make her see them in a proper light."

"That is very true," answered Mrs. G.o.ddard, thoughtfully. "It never struck me before. I wonder whether that is the reason women always like men who never make any compliments at all?"

The squire's face a.s.sumed an amusing expression of inquiry and surprise.

"Is that personal?" he asked.

"Oh--of course not," answered Mrs. G.o.ddard in some confusion. She blushed and turning towards the fire took up the poker and pretended to stir the coals. Women always delight in knocking a good fire to pieces, out of pure absence of mind. John Short saw the movement and, escaping suddenly from the maternal conversation of Mrs. Ambrose, threw himself upon his knee on the hearth-rug and tried to take the poker from his hostess's hand.

"Oh, Mrs. G.o.ddard, don't! Let me do it--please!" he exclaimed.