Читать книгу The Vicar's People - Fenn George Manville - Страница 3

Rhoda Penwynn’s visitor was in the drawing-room at An Morlock, making the most use possible of her eyes while she was alone. She had seen who had called and left cards, and what book Rhoda was reading. She had also mentally taken the pattern of the new design of embroidery, and meant to work a piece exactly the same; and now she was filling up the time before Rhoda entered by gazing at herself in one of the large mirrors.

It was not a bad reflection – to wit, that of a refined, fair face, that must have been very pretty fifteen or twenty years before; but now there was an eager sharpness in the features, as if caused by expectancy never gratified; the fair white skin had a slight ivory – old ivory – tinge, and the pretty bloom that once hid beneath the down of her cheeks had coalesced and slightly tinted the lady’s nose. It was but slight, but it was unmistakable.

Miss Pavey was well and fairly, even fashionably, dressed, and generally she wore the aspect of what she was – a maiden lady who loved colour, and had, after sundry matrimonial disappointments, retired to a far-off west-country, sea-side place, where her moderate independency would be of so much more value than in a large town.

She sighed as she contemplated herself in the glass, and then held her handkerchief to her face and bent her eyes upon a book as she heard the rustle of a dress, and the door opened, when she rose to meet Rhoda with effusion, and an eager kiss.

“My dearest Rhoda, how well you do look!” she exclaimed. “What a becoming dress!”

“Do you think so, Miss Pavey,” said Rhoda, quietly. “Miss Pavey again! Why will you keep up this terrible distance? My dear Rhoda, is it never to be Martha?”

“Well then, Martha,” said Rhoda, smiling. “I did not expect to see you so early.”

“It is early for visitors, my dear; but I thought you would like to know the news. We have so little here in Carnac.”

“Really, I trouble very little about the news, Miss Martha,” said Rhoda, smiling. “But what is the matter?” she added, as her visitor once more held her handkerchief to her face.

“That dreadful toothache again,” sighed Miss Pavey. “I really am a martyr to these nervous pains.”

“Why not boldly go to Mr Rumsey and have it out?”

“Oh, no! oh, dear no!” cried Miss Pavey, with a look of horror, “I could not bear for a man to touch my mouth like that. Don’t mind me, dear, it will be better soon;” and it seemed to be, for it was a pleasant little fiction kept up by Miss Pavey – that toothache, to add truthfulness to the complete set she wore, and whose extraction she carefully attended to herself.

“Of course you don’t care for news, my dear,” continued the lady; “I used not when I was your age. But when one comes to be thirty-two one’s ideas change so. One becomes more human, and takes more interest in humanity at large than in one’s self. You are such a happy contented girl, too; nothing seems to trouble you.”

“But your news,” said Rhoda, to change the conversation, as Miss Pavey smoothed down her blue silk dress.

“To be sure, yes, my dear. I saw the coach come over from the station – what a shame it is that we don’t have a branch railway! – and what do you think?”

“Think?” said Rhoda, looking amused, “I really don’t know what to think.”

“Pylades and Orestes!”

“I don’t understand you.”

“They’ve come, my dear, – they’ve come?”

“Pylades and Orestes?”

“Well, of course, that’s only my nonsense; but, as I told you, I saw the coach come in, and two gentlemen got down, both young and handsome – one fair, the other dark; and one is evidently our new vicar, and the other must be his friend. I am so glad, my dear, for I have been exceedingly anxious about the kind of person we were to have for our new clergyman.”

“Indeed!” said Rhoda, looking amused. “Why, I thought you went now to the Wesleyan chapel?”

“What a dear satirical girl you are, Rhoda. You know I only went there on account of Mr Chynoweth, and because Mr Owen stared at me so dreadfully, and was so persistent in preaching about dress.”

“But surely that was only at the mining and fishing women, who have been growing dreadfully gay in their attire.”

“Oh dear, no, my dear! oh dear no!” said Miss Pavey, shaking her head. “I have the best of reasons for believing it was all directed at me. You remember his text the last Sunday I was at church?”

“I am sorry to say I do not.”

“Dear me, I wonder at that. It was so very pointed. It was – ‘Who is this that cometh with dyed garments from Bozrah?’ and he looked at me as he spoke. I think it was disgraceful.”

“But, my dear Martha, I think you are too sensitive.”

“Perhaps I am, my dear; perhaps I am. I have had my troubles; but that Mr Owen was dreadful. You know, my dear, he had – perhaps I ought not to say it, but I will – he evidently wanted to make an impression upon me, but I never could like him. He was so coarse, and abrupt, and short-sighted. He used to smoke pipes too. Mrs Mullion has told me, over and over again, that he would sit for hours of a night smoking pipes, and drinking gin and water, with that dreadfully wicked old man, Mr Paul. Really, my dear, I think some one ought to warn our new clergyman not to go and lodge at Mrs Mullion’s. You see there is hardly any choice for a gentleman, and for one who looks so refined to go and stay at Mrs Mullion’s would be dreadful.”

“Mrs Mullion is very good and amiable,” said Rhoda.

“Yes, my dear, she is; but Mr Paul is not a nice person; and then there is that Madge – dreadful girl!”

Rhoda’s heart gave a higher-pressure throb at this last name, and Miss Pavey ran on, as she could if she only obtained a good listener, —

“I do think that girl ought to be sent away from Carnac; I do, indeed. Really, my dear, if I had felt disposed to accept any advances on the part of Mr Tregenna, his conduct with that flighty creature would have set me against him.”

Rhoda’s heart beat faster still, and the colour went and came in her face as she listened. She blamed herself for hearkening to such petty gossip, but her visitor was determined to go on, and added confidence to confidence, for, as it may be gathered, Miss Martha Pavey’s peculiar idiosyncrasy was a belief that was terribly persecuted by the male sex, who eagerly sought her hand in marriage, though at the present time a gossip of Carnac had told another gossip that Miss Pavey was “setting her gashly old cap now at Methody Parson.”

“Don’t you think, my dear,” continued the visitor, “that your papa ought to interfere?”

“Interfere? About what?” exclaimed Rhoda, whose thoughts had run off to her conversation with her father that morning.

“Why, what are you thinking about, Rhoda?” cried Miss Pavey. “Oh, you naughty, naughty girl, you! You were thinking about our handsome young clergyman and his young friend. Oh, for shame, for shame?”

“Indeed, I was not!” exclaimed Rhoda, half amused, half indignant at her visitor’s folly.

“Oh, don’t tell me, dear,” said Miss Pavey, shaking her head. “It’s very shocking of you, but I don’t wonder. See how few marriageable gentlemen there are about here.”

“Miss Pavey, pray don’t be so absurd,” exclaimed Rhoda.

“Oh, no, my dear, I will not,” said the visitor, blushing, and then indulging in a peculiar giggle; “but after all, there is a something in wedlock, my dear Rhoda.”

“A something in wedlock?”

“Yes, dear, there is, you know, speaking to one another as confidantes – there is a something in wedlock after all, as you must own.”

“I never think of such a thing,” said Rhoda, laughing, for Miss Pavey’s evident leanings towards the subject under discussion were very droll.

“Of course not, my dear,” said Miss Pavey, seriously. “We none of us ever do; but still there are times when the matter is forced upon us, as in this case; and who knows, my dear, what may happen? You did not see them, I suppose?”

“See? whom?”

“My dear child, how dense you are this morning! The two new-comers, of course. And don’t you think that something ought to be done to warn them about where they are to take apartments?”

“Certainly not,” said Rhoda. “It would be the height of impertinence.”

“Oh, really, I cannot agree with you there, my dear Rhoda. I think it would be grievous to let this young clergyman go to Mullion’s, and really there is not another place in Carnac where a gentleman could lodge. In fact, I would sooner make the offer that he should board at my little home.”

“Board – take apartments at Dinas Vale?”

“Certainly, my dear. He is a clergyman, and we ought to extend some kind of hospitality to him. I regret that my limited income does not permit me to say to him, ‘Take up your home here for the present as a guest.’ Of course I would not open my doors to any one but a clergyman.”

“Of course not,” said Rhoda, absently; and soon after Miss Pavey took her leave, Rhoda going with her to the door, and on re-crossing the hall noticing a card lying upon the serpentine marble table, against whose dark, ruddy surface it stood out clear and white.

At another time it would not have attracted her attention, but now, as if moved by some impulse beyond her control, she went up close and read upon it the name, —

“Geoffrey Trethick.”

Nothing more – no “Mr” and no address.