“There is quite a commotion in Grange Lane,” said Mr. Leeson. “Such constant disturbances must deteriorate the property, you know. Of course, whatever one’s opinion may be, one must keep it to one’s self, after the result of the investigation; though I can’t say I have unbounded confidence in trial by jury,” said the disagreeable young man.
“I am afraid I am very slow of comprehension,” said the Rector’s wife. “I don’t know in the least what you mean about trial by jury. Perhaps it would be best to put the book back on the table; it is too heavy for you to hold.”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” said Mr. Leeson—“I mean about Wentworth, of course. When a man is popular in society, people prefer to shut their eyes. I suppose the matter is settled for the present, but you and I know better than to believe—”
“I beg you will speak for yourself, Mr. Leeson,” said Mrs. Morgan, with dignity. “I have always had the highest respect for Mr. Wentworth.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” said the disagreeable Curate. “I forgot; almost all the ladies are on Mr. Wentworth’s side. It appears that little girl of Elsworthy’s has disappeared again; that was all I was going to say.”
And, fortunately for the Curate, Colonel Chiley, who entered the room at the moment, diverted from him the attention of the lady of the house; and after that there was no opportunity of broaching the subject again until dinner was almost over. Then it was perhaps the All Souls pudding that warmed Mr. Leeson’s soul; perhaps he had taken a little more wine than usual. He took sudden advantage of that curious little pause which occurs at a well-conducted dinner-table, when the meal is concluded, and the fruit (considered apparently, in orthodox circles, a paradisiacal kind of food which needs no blessing) alone remains to be discussed. As soon as the manner of thanks from the foot of the table was over, the Curate incautiously rushed in before anybody else could break the silence, and delivered his latest information at a high pitch of voice.
“Has anyone heard about the Elsworthys?” said Mr. Leeson; “something fresh has happened there. I hope your verdict yesterday will not be called in question. The fact is, I believe that the girl has been taken away again. They say she has gone and left a letter saying that she is to be made a lady of. I don’t know what we are to understand by that. There was some private service or other going on at St. Roque’s very early in the morning. Marriage is a sacrament, you know. Perhaps Mr. Wentworth or his brother—”
“They are a queer family, the Wentworths,” said old Mr. Western, “and such lots of them, sir—such lots of them. The old ladies seem to have settled down here. I am not of their way of thinking, you know, but they’re very good to the poor.”
“Mr. Frank Wentworth is going to succeed his brother, I suppose,” said Mr. Leeson; “it is very lucky for a man who gets himself talked of to have a family living to fall back upon—”
“No such thing—no such thing,” said Mr. Proctor, hastily. “Mr. Frank Wentworth means to stay here.”
“Dear me!” said the disagreeable Curate, with an elaborate pause of astonishment. “Things must be bad indeed,” added that interesting youth, with solemnity, shaking the devoted head, upon which he did not know that Mrs. Morgan had fixed her eyes, “if his own family give him up, and leave him to starve here. They would never give him up if they had not very good cause. Oh, come; I shouldn’t like to believe that! I know how much a curate has to live on,” said Mr. Leeson, with a smile of engaging candour. “Before they give him up like that, with two livings in the family, they must have very good cause.”
“Very good cause indeed,” said Mrs. Morgan, from the head of the table. The company in general had, to tell the truth, been a little taken aback by the Curate’s observations; and there was almost the entire length of the table between the unhappy man and the Avenger. “So good a reason, that it is strange how it should not have occurred to a brother clergyman. That is the evil of a large parish,” said the Rector’s wife, with beautiful simplicity; “however hard one works, one never can know above half of the poor people; and I suppose you have been occupied in the other districts, and have not heard what a great work Mr. Wentworth is doing. I have reason to know,” said Mrs. Morgan, with considerable state, “that he will remain in Carlingford, in a very different position from
