The Vicar of Bullhampton

to define what is and what is not hurry? They had now been engaged a month, and the Squire was clearly of opinion that there had been no hurry. “September was the nicest month in the year,” he said, “for getting married and going abroad. September in Switzerland, October among the Italian lakes, November in Florence and Rome. So that they might get home before Christmas after a short visit to Naples.” That was the Squire’s programme, and his whole manner was altered as he made it. He thought he knew the nature of the girl well enough to be sure that, though she would profess no passionate love for him before starting on such a journey, she would change her tone before she returned. It should be no fault of his if she did not change it. Mary had at first declined to fix any day, had talked of next year, had declared that she would not be hurried. She had carried on the fight even after the affair of the rubies, but she had fought in opposition to strong and well-disciplined forces on the other side, and she had begun to admit to herself that it might be expedient that she should yield. The thing was to be done, and why not have it done at once? She had not as yet yielded, but she had begun to think that she would yield.

At such a period it was of course natural that the Squire should be daily at the vicarage, and on this Monday morning he came down while the minds of all his friends there were intent on the strange information received from Mr. Quickenham. The Vicar was not by when Mr. Gilmore was told, and he was thus easily induced to join in the opinion that the chapel should be made to disappear. He had a landlord’s idea about land, and was thoroughly well-disposed to stop any encroachment on the part of the Marquis.

“Lord Trowbridge must pull it down himself, and put it up again elsewhere,” said the Squire.

“But Frank says that he won’t let the Marquis pull it down,” said Mrs. Fenwick, almost moved to tears by the tragedy of the occasion.

Then the Vicar joined them, and the matter was earnestly debated;⁠—so earnestly that, on that occasion, not a word was said as to the day of the wedding.

LVI

The Vicar’s Vengeance

No eloquence on the part of the two ladies at the vicarage, or of the Squire, could turn Mr. Fenwick from his purpose, but he did consent at last to go over with the Squire to Salisbury, and to consult Mr. Chamberlaine. A proposition was made to him as to consulting the bishop, for whom personally he always expressed a liking, and whose office he declared that he held in the highest veneration; but he explained that this was not a matter in which the bishop should be invited to exercise authority.

“The bishop has nothing to do with my freehold,” he said.

“But if you want an opinion,” said the Squire, “why not go to a man whose opinion will be worth having?”

Then the Vicar explained again. His respect for the bishop was so great, that any opinion coming from his lordship would, to him, be more than advice; it would be law. So great was his mingled admiration of the man and respect for the office!

“What he means,” said Mrs. Fenwick, “is, that he won’t go to the bishop, because he has made up his mind already. You are, both of you, throwing away your time and money in going to Salisbury at all.”

“I’m not sure but what she’s right there,” said the Vicar. Nevertheless they went to Salisbury.

The Rev. Henry Fitzackerly Chamberlaine was very eloquent, clear, and argumentative on the subject, and perhaps a little overbearing. He insisted that the chapel should be removed without a moment’s delay; and that notice as to its removal should be served upon all the persons concerned⁠—upon Mr. Puddleham, upon the builder, upon the chapel trustees, the elders of the congregation⁠—“if there be any elders,” said Mr. Chamberlaine, with a delightful touch of irony⁠—and upon the Marquis and the Marquis’s agent. He was eloquent, authoritative and loud. When the Vicar remarked that after all the chapel had been built for a good purpose, Mr. Chamberlaine became quite excited in his eloquence.

“The glebe of Bullhampton, Mr. Fenwick,” said he, “has not been confided to your care for the propagation of dissent.”

“Nor has the vicarage house been confided to me for the reading of novels; but that is what goes on there.”

“The house is for your private comfort,” said the prebendary.

“And so is the glebe,” said the Vicar; “and I shall not be comfortable if I make these people put down a house of prayer.”

And there was another argument against the Vicar’s views, very strong. This glebe was only given to him in trust. He was bound so to use it, that it should fall into the hands of his successor unimpaired and with full capability for fruition. “You have no right to leave to another the demolition of a building, the erection of which you should have prevented.” This argument was more difficult of answer than the other, but Mr. Fenwick did answer it.

“I feel all that,” said he; “and I think it likely that my estate may be liable for the expense of removal. The chapel may be brought in as a dilapidation. But that which I can answer with my purse, need not lie upon my conscience. I could let the bit of land, I have no doubt⁠—though not on a building lease.”

“But they have built on it,” said Mr. Chamberlaine.

“No doubt, they have; and I can see that my estate may be called upon to restore the bit of ground to its former position. What I can’t see is, that I am bound to enforce the removal now.”

Mr. Chamberlaine took up the matter with great spirit, and gave