“This looks very bad, very bad, I am sorry to say,” said Mr. Morgan; “for the unhappy young man’s own sake, an investigation is absolutely necessary. As for you, Elsworthy, everybody must be sorry for you. Have you no idea where he could have taken the poor girl?—that is,” said the uncautious Rector, “supposing that he is guilty—of which I am afraid there does not seem much doubt.”
“There aint no doubt,” said Elsworthy; “there aint nobody else as could have done it. Just afore my little girl was took away, sir, Mr. Wentworth went off of a sudden, and it was said as he was a-going home to the Hall. I was a-thinking of sending a letter anonymous, to ask if it was known what he was after. I read in the papers the other day as his brother was a-going over to Rome. There don’t seem to be none o’ them the right sort; which it’s terrible for two clergymen. I was thinking of dropping a bit of a note anonymous—”
“No—no—no,” said the Rector, “that would never do; nothing of that sort, Elsworthy. If you thought it likely she was there, the proper thing would be to go and inquire; nothing anonymous—no, no; that is a thing I could not possibly countenance,” said Mr. Morgan. He pushed away his pen and paper, and got very red and uncomfortable. If either of the critics upstairs, his wife, or his predecessor in the Rectory, could but know that he was having an anonymous letter suggested to him—that anybody ventured to think him capable of being an accomplice in such proceedings! The presence of these two in the house, though they were most probably at the moment engaged in the calmest abstract conversation, and totally unaware of what was going on in the library, had a great effect upon the Rector. He felt insulted that any man could venture to confide such an intention to him almost within the hearing of his wife. “If I am to take up your case, everything must be open and straightforward,” said Mr. Morgan; while Elsworthy, who saw that he had said something amiss, without precisely understanding what, took up his hat as a resource, and once more began to polish it round and round in his hands.
“I didn’t mean no harm, sir, I’m sure,” he said; “I don’t seem to see no other way o’ finding out; for I aint like a rich man as can go and come as he pleases; but I won’t say no more, since it’s displeasing to you. If you’d give me the list of names, sir, as you have decided on to be the committee, I wouldn’t trouble you no longer, seeing as you’ve got visitors. Perhaps, if the late Rector aint going away directly, he would take it kind to be put on the committee; and he’s a gentleman as I’ve a great respect for, though he wasn’t not to say the man for Carlingford,” said Elsworthy, with a sidelong look. He began to feel the importance of his own position as the originator of a committee, and at the head of the most exciting movement which had been for a long time in Carlingford, and could not help being sensible, notwithstanding his affliction, that he had a distinction to offer which even the late Rector might be pleased to accept.
“I don’t think Mr. Proctor will stay,” said Mr. Morgan; “and if he does stay, I believe he is a friend of Mr. Wentworth’s.” It was only after he had said this that the Rector perceived the meaning of the words he had uttered; then, in his confusion and vexation, he got up hastily from the table, and upset the inkstand in all the embarrassment of the moment. “Of course that is all the greater reason for having his assistance,” said Mr. Morgan, in his perplexity; “we are all friends of Mr. Wentworth. Will you have the goodness to ring the bell? There are few things more painful than to take steps against a brother clergyman, if one did not hope it would be for his benefit in the end. Oh, never mind the table. Be so good as to ring the bell again—louder, please.”
“There aint nothing equal to blotting-paper, sir,” said Elsworthy, eagerly. “With a bit o’ blotting-paper I’d undertake to rub out ink-stains out o’ the finest carpet—if you’ll permit me. It aint but a small speck, and it’ll be gone afore you could look round. It’s twenty times better nor lemon-juice, or them poisonous salts as you’re always nervous of leaving about. Look you here, sir, if it aint a-sopping up beautiful. There aint no harm done as your respected lady could be put out about; and I’ll take the list with me, if you please, to show to my wife, as is a-breaking her heart at home, and can’t believe as we’ll ever get justice. She says as how the quality always takes a gentleman’s part against us poor folks, but that aint been my experience. Don’t you touch the carpet, Thomas—there aint a speck to be seen when the blotting-paper’s cleared away. I’ll go home, not to detain you no more, sir, and cheer up the poor heart as is a-breaking,” said Elsworthy, getting up from his knees where he had been operating upon the carpet. He had got in his hand the list of names which Mr. Morgan had put down as referees in this painful business, and it dawned faintly upon the Rector for the moment that he himself was taking rather an undignified position as Elsworthy’s partisan.
“I have no objection to your showing it to your wife,” said Mr. Morgan; “but I shall be much displeased if I hear any talk about it, Elsworthy; and I hope it is not revenge you are thinking of, which is a very unchristian sentiment,” said the Rector, severely, “and not likely to
