A Tale of a Lonely Parish Part 8

John's feeling of antagonism, and even his resentment against Mr. Juxon, roused by Nellie's innocent remark about the roses, were not proof against the real scholastic pa.s.sion aroused by the sight of rare and valuable books. In a few minutes he had divested himself of his greatcoat and was examining the books with an expression of delight upon his face which was pleasant to see. He glanced from time to time at the other persons in the room and looked very often at Mrs. G.o.ddard, but on the whole he was profoundly interested in the contents of the library. Mrs.

G.o.ddard was installed in a huge leathern easy-chair by the fire, and the squire was handing her one after another a number of new volumes which lay upon a small table, and which she appeared to examine with interest.

Nellie knew where to look for her favourite books of engravings and had curled herself up in a corner absorbed in "Hyde's Royal Residences." The vicar went to look for something he wanted to consult.

"What do you think of our new friend?" asked Mrs. G.o.ddard of the squire.

She spoke in a low tone and did not look up from the new book he had just handed her.

"He appears to have a very peculiar temper," said Mr. Juxon. "But he looks clever."

"What do you think he was talking about as we came through the park?"

asked Mrs. G.o.ddard.

"What?"

"He was saying that he saw me once before he went to college, and--fancy how deliciously boyis.h.!.+ he said he had written ever so many Greek odes to my memory since!" Mrs. G.o.ddard laughed a little and blushed faintly.

"Let us hope, for the sake of his success, that you may continue to inspire him," said the squire gravely. "I have no doubt the odes were very good."

"So he said. Fancy!"

CHAPTER VII.

Mrs. G.o.ddard did not mean to walk home with John; but on the other hand she did not mean to walk with the squire. She revolved the matter in her mind as she sat in the library talking in an undertone with Mr. Juxon.

She liked the great room, the air of luxury, the squire's tea and the squire's conversation. It is worth noticing that his flow of talk was more abundant to-day than it had been for some time; whether it was John's presence which stimulated Mr. Juxon's imagination, or whether Mrs. G.o.ddard had suddenly grown more interesting since John Short's appearance it is hard to say; it is certain that Mr. Juxon talked better than usual.

The afternoon, however, was far spent and the party had only come to make a short visit. Mrs. G.o.ddard rose from her seat.

"Nellie, child, we must be going home," she said, calling to the little girl who was still absorbed in the book of engravings which she had taken to the window to catch the last of the waning light.

John started and came forward with alacrity. The vicar looked up; Nellie reluctantly brought her book back.

"It is very early," objected the squire. "Really, the days have no business to be so short."

"It would not seem like Christmas if they were long," said Mrs. G.o.ddard.

"It does not seem like Christmas anyhow," remarked John, enigmatically.

No one understood his observation and no one paid any attention to it.

Whereupon John's previous feeling of annoyance returned and he went to look for his greatcoat in the dark corner where he had laid it.

"You must not come all the way back with us," said Mrs. G.o.ddard as they all went out into the hall and began to put on their warm things before the fire. "Really--it is late. Mr. Ambrose will give me his arm."

The squire insisted however, and Stamboul, who had had a comfortable nap by the fire, was of the same opinion as his master and plunged wildly at the door.

"Will you give me your arm, Mr. Ambrose?" said Mrs. G.o.ddard, looking rather timidly at the vicar as they stood upon the broad steps in the sparkling evening air. She felt that she was disappointing both the squire and John, but she had quite made up her mind. She had her own reasons. The vicar, good man, was unconsciously a little flattered by her choice, as with her hand resting on the sleeve of his greatcoat he led the way down the park. The squire and John were fain to follow together, but Nellie took her mother's hand, and Stamboul walked behind affecting an unusual gravity.

"You must come again when there is more daylight," said Mr. Juxon to his companion.

"Thank you," said John. "You are very good." He intended to relapse into silence, but his instinct made him ashamed of seeming rude. "You have a magnificent library," he added presently in a rather cold tone.

"You have been used to much better ones in Cambridge," said the squire, modestly.

"Do you know Cambridge well, Mr. Juxon?"

"Very well. I am a Cambridge man, myself."

"Indeed?" exclaimed John, immediately discovering that the squire was not so bad as he had thought. "Indeed! I had no idea. Mr. Ambrose never told me that."

"I am not sure that he is aware of it," said Mr. Juxon quietly. "The subject never happened to come up."

"How odd!" remarked John, who could not conceive of a.s.sociating with a man for any length of time without asking at what University he had been.

"I don't know," answered Mr. Juxon. "There are lots of other things to talk about."

"Oh--of course," said John, in a tone which did not express conviction.

Meanwhile Mr. Ambrose and Mrs. G.o.ddard walked briskly in front; so briskly in fact that Nellie occasionally jumped a step, as children say, in order to keep up with them.

"What a glorious Christmas eve!" exclaimed Mrs. G.o.ddard, as they turned a bend in the drive and caught sight of the western sky still clear and red. "And there is the new moon!" The slender crescent was hanging just above the fading glow.

"Oh mamma, have you wished?" cried Nellie. "You must, you know, when you see the new moon!"

Mrs. G.o.ddard did not answer, but she sighed faintly and drew a little closer to the worthy vicar as she walked. She always wished, whether there was a new moon or not, and she always wished the same wish. Perhaps Mr. Ambrose understood, for he was not without tact. He changed the subject.

"How do you like our John Short?" he asked.

"Very much, I think," answered Mrs. G.o.ddard. "He is so fresh and young."

"He is a fine fellow. I was sure you would like him. Is he at all like what you fancied he would be?"

"Well no--not exactly. I know you told me how he looked, but I always thought he would be rather Byronic--the poetical type, if you know what I mean."

"He has a great deal of poetry in him," said Mr. Ambrose in a tone of profound admiration. "He writes the best Greek verse I ever saw."

"Oh yes--I daresay," replied Mrs. G.o.ddard smiling in the dusk. "I am sure he must be very clever."

So they chatted quietly as they walked down the park. But the squire and John did not make progress in their conversation, and by the time they reached the gate they had yielded to an awkward silence. They had both been annoyed because Mrs. G.o.ddard had taken the vicar's arm instead of choosing one of themselves, but the joint sense of disappointment did not const.i.tute a common bond of interest. Either one would have suffered anything rather than mention Mrs. G.o.ddard to the other in the course of the walk. And yet Mr. Juxon might have been John's father. At the gate of the cottage they separated. The squire said he would turn back. Mrs.

G.o.ddard had reached her destination. John and the vicar would return to the vicarage. John tried to linger a moment, to get a word with Mrs.

G.o.ddard. He was so persistent that she let him follow her through the wicket gate and then turned quickly.

"What is it?" she asked, rather suddenly, holding out her hand to say good-bye.

"Oh, nothing," answered John. "That is--would you like to see one of those--those little odes of mine?"

"Yes, certainly, if you like," she answered frankly, and then laughed.

"Of course I would. Good-night."