Salem Chapel. Volume 2/2

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Oliphant Margaret. Salem Chapel. Volume 2/2

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVII

CHAPTER XVIII

CHAPTER XIX

CHAPTER XX

CHAPTER XXI

CHAPTER XXII

CHAPTER XXIII

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TO-MORROW! to-morrow was Monday morning, a new day, a new work-week – cheerful, healthful, and exhilarating – bright with that frosty sunshine, which carried comparative comfort to many a poor house in Carlingford. The widow’s face was sharper, paler, of a wonderful ashy colour. Nature could not go on under such a struggle without showing signs of it. Beecher, who was not to go until a late train, took leave of her as soon as he could, not without a little fright, and betook himself to Tozer’s, where he said she overawed him with her grand manners, and where he was led to admit that Vincent had always been a little “high.” If she could have abandoned herself to her dreadful vigil, perhaps Mrs. Vincent might have found it easier, perhaps harder – she herself thought the former; but she dared not give up to it. She had to set her face like a flint – she was Arthur’s representative, and had still to show a steadfast front of battle for him, and if not discomfit, still confront his enemies. She had to call at Siloam Cottage, at Mrs. Tozer’s, to do what else might be necessary for the propitiation of the flock. She never dreamed of saying to herself that she could not do it; there was no question of that; the flag had to be kept flying for Arthur. No friend of his must be jeopardised, no whisper allowed to rise which his mother could prevent: she had been a minister’s wife for thirty years; well had she learned in that time, like Mrs. Tufton, that a deal of attention was needed to keep all things straight.

Accordingly, in the height of her excitement and anxiety, believing that any moment the poor fugitive might be brought home, the widow, in her unflinching martyrdom, once more put on her bonnet, and drew out her black ribbon into bows of matchless neatness. Though she wrung her poor hands in speechless anguish as she went out of the room, it was with composed, though colourless lips, that she spoke to the little maid in the hall. “Mr. Vincent may come home any time to-day,” said the widow; “you must have some lunch ready, and tea; perhaps his sister may be with him – or – or she may come alone. Any one who comes is to be taken up-stairs. I will not be long gone; and I am going to Mrs. Tufton’s, if anybody should want me – ”

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“If her daughter dies and her son is dismissed, I wonder will that be for the best?” said Adelaide Tufton, as soon as the widow had left the room. Mrs. Vincent’s ears, made acute by suffering, caught enough of this valedictory address to realise, if that were possible, an additional pang. Kind Mrs. Tufton did not hear it, not being in any such state of feverish susceptibility. She, on the contrary, kissed the mother, whom she pitied with all her heart, and entreated her not to worry. “A young healthy girl does not fall ill for nothing. You’ll see things will turn out all right,” said the kind soul; and Mrs. Vincent went upon her forlorn way.

At Mrs. Tozer’s the minister’s mother found a little committee assembled. Mrs. Brown was there from the Devonshire Dairy, and Mrs. Pigeon, whose gratification in being able to hail Mrs. Vincent as an acquaintance, to the confusion of the dairywoman and amazement of Mrs. Tozer, almost restored the minister to that lady’s favour. They were in the drawing-room, where, in honour of the expected visitors, a fire had been lighted; and as Mrs. Vincent ascended the dark staircase, she obtained a passing glimpse of Mr. Beecher seated at the table in the parlour studying “The Railway Guide,” which Phœbe expounded to him, until they were both sent for up-stairs. Altogether the conjunction did not look promising for Arthur’s interests. She went in thrilling with a touch of exasperation and defiance. Now was the time to make a final stand for Arthur. This covert rebellion could be deprecated no longer.

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