As for Mr. Morgan, he, on the contrary, got up and walked instinctively to the fireplace, and stood there with his back to the empty grate, contemplating the world in general with a troubled countenance, as was usual. Not to speak of his prejudice against Mr. Wentworth, the Rector was moved by the sight of Elsworthy’s distress; but then his wife, who unluckily had brought her needlework into the library on this particular morning, and who was in the interest of the Curate of St. Roque’s, was seated watchful by the window, occasionally looking up, and entirely cognisant, as Mr. Morgan was aware, of everything that happened. The Rector was much embarrassed to feel himself thus standing between the two parties. “Yours is a very hard case—but it is necessary to proceed with caution, for, after all, there is not much proof,” he said, faltering a little. “My dear, it is a pity to detain you from your walk,” Mr. Morgan continued, after a momentary pause, and looked with a flush of consciousness at his wife, whose absence would have been such a relief to him. Mrs. Morgan looked up with a gracious smile.
“You are not detaining me, William—I am very much interested,” said the designing woman, and immediately began to arrange and put in order what the Rector knew by experience to be a long piece of work, likely to last her an hour at least. Mr. Morgan uttered a long breath, which sounded like a little snort of despair.
“It is very difficult to know what to do,” said the Rector, shifting uneasily upon the hearthrug, and plunging his hands into the depths of his pockets. “If you could name anybody you would like to refer it to—but being a brother clergyman—”
“A man as conducts himself like that, didn’t ought to be a clergyman, sir,” cried Elsworthy. “I’m one as listened to him preaching on Sunday, and could have jumped up and dragged him out of the pulpit, to hear him a-discoursing as if he wasn’t a bigger sinner nor any there. I aint safe to stand it another Sunday. I’d do something as I should be sorry for after. I’m asking justice, and no more.” With these words Elsworthy got up again, still turning round in his hands the unlucky hat, and turned his person, though not his eyes, towards Mrs. Morgan. “No man could be more partial to his clergyman nor I was,” he said hoarsely. “There was never a time as I wasn’t glad to see him. He came in and out as if it belonged to him, and I had no more thought as he was meaning any harm than the babe unborn; but a man as meddles with an innocent girl aint nothing but a black-hearted villain!” cried Elsworthy, with a gleam out of his red eyes; “and I don’t believe as anybody would take his part as knew all. I put my confidence in the Rector, as is responsible for the parish,” he went on, facing round again: “not to say but what it’s natural for them as are Mr. Wentworth’s friends to take his part—but I’ll have justice, wherever it comes from. It’s hard work to go again’ any lady as I’ve a great respect for, and wouldn’t cross for the world; but it aint in reason that I should be asked to bear it and not say nothing; and I’ll have justice, if I should die for it,” said Elsworthy. He turned from one to another as he spoke, but kept his eyes upon his hat, which he smoothed and smoothed as if his life depended on it. But for the reality of his excitement, his red eyes, and hoarse voice, he would have been a ludicrous figure, standing as he did in the middle of Mr. Morgan’s library, veering round, first to one side and then to the other, with his stooping head and ungainly person. As for the Rector, he too kept looking at his wife with a very troubled face.
“It is difficult for me to act against a brother clergyman,” said Mr. Morgan; “but I am very sorry for you, Elsworthy—very sorry; if you could name, say, half-a-dozen gentlemen—”
“But don’t you think,” said the Rector’s wife, interposing, “that you should inquire first whether there is any evidence? It would make you all look very ridiculous if you got up an inquiry and found no proof against Mr. Wentworth. Is it likely he would do such a thing all at once without showing any signs of wickedness beforehand—is it possible? To be sorry is quite a different thing, but I don’t see—”
“Ladies don’t understand such matters,” said the Rector, who had been kept at bay so long that he began to get desperate. “I beg your pardon, my dear, but it is not a matter for you to discuss. We shall take good care that there is plenty of evidence,” said the perplexed man—“I mean, before we proceed to do anything,” he added, growing very red and confused. When Mr. Morgan caught his wife’s eye, he got as nearly into a passion as was possible for so good a
