'I was going to add,' he said, 'that for a pure and saintly woman you
will not find one more to your true advantage, and certainly not more
to your mother's mind and my own, than your friend Mercy, whom you
used to show a certain interest in. It is true that my neighbour
Chant's daughter had lately caught up the fashion of the younger
clergy round about us for decorating the Communion-table--altar, as I
was shocked to hear her call it one day--with flowers and other stuff
on festival occasions. But her father, who is quite as opposed to
such flummery as I, says that can be cured. It is a mere girlish
outbreak which, I am sure, will not be permanent.'
'Yes, yes; Mercy is good and devout, I know. But, father, don't you
think that a young woman equally pure and virtuous as Miss Chant,
but one who, in place of that lady's ecclesiastical accomplishments,
understands the duties of farm life as well as a farmer himself,
would suit me infinitely better?'
His father persisted in his conviction that a knowledge of a farmer's
wife's duties came second to a Pauline view of humanity; and the
impulsive Angel, wishing to honour his father's feelings and to
advance the cause of his heart at the same time, grew specious.
He said that fate or Providence had thrown in his way a woman who
possessed every qualification to be the helpmate of an agriculturist,
and was decidedly of a serious turn of mind. He would not say
whether or not she had attached herself to the sound Low Church
School of his father; but she would probably be open to conviction
on that point; she was a regular church-goer of simple faith;
honest-hearted, receptive, intelligent, graceful to a degree, chaste
as a vestal, and, in personal appearance, exceptionally beautiful.
'Is she of a family such as you would care to marry into--a lady, in
short?' asked his startled mother, who had come softly into the study
during the conversation.
'She is not what in common parlance is called a lady,' said Angel,
unflinchingly, 'for she is a cottager's daughter, as I am proud to
say. But she IS a lady, nevertheless--in feeling and nature.'
'Mercy Chant is of a very good family.'
'Pooh!--what's the advantage of that, mother?' said Angel quickly.
'How is family to avail the wife of a man who has to rough it as I
have, and shall have to do?'
'Mercy is accomplished. And accomplishments have their charm,'
returned his mother, looking at him through her silver spectacles.
'As to external accomplishments, what will be the use of them in the
life I am going to lead?--while as to her reading, I can take that
in hand. She'll be apt pupil enough, as you would say if you knew
her. She's brim full of poetry--actualized poetry, if I may use the
expression. She LIVES what paper-poets only write... And she is an
unimpeachable Christian, I am sure; perhaps of the very tribe, genus,
and species you desire to propagate.'
'O Angel, you are mocking!'
'Mother, I beg pardon. But as she really does attend Church almost
every Sunday morning, and is a good Christian girl, I am sure you
