Part 10 (2/2)
”My dear Agnes, I think if you were to speak boldly to her, you might do some good. You might begin to undermine this unlucky infatuation of her's; and I am sure, if her eyes were once opened, that the more she saw him, the less she would like him.”
”I think, James,” said Mrs. Buckley, ”that it becomes the duty of us, who have been so happy in our marriage, to prevent our good old vicar's last days from being rendered miserable by such a mesalliance as this.
I am very fond of Mary; but the old Vicar, my dear, has taken the place of your father to me.”
”He is like a second father to me too,” said the Major; ”but he wants a good many qualities that my own father had. He hasn't his energy or determination. Why, if my father had been in his place, and such an ill-looking young dog as that came hanging about the premises, my father would have laid his stick about his back. And it would be a good thing if somebody would do it now.”
Such was Major Buckley's opinion.
Chapter VIII
THE VICAR HEARS SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE.
”My dear,” said old Miss Thornton, that evening, ”I have consulted Mrs.
Buckley on the sleeves, and she is of opinion that they should be pointed.”
”Do you think,” said Mary, ”that she thought much about the matter?”
”She promised to give the matter her earnest attention,” said Miss Thornton; ”so I suppose she did. Mrs. Buckley would never speak at random, if she once promised to give her real opinion.”
”No, I don't think she would, Auntie, but she is not very particular in her own dress.”
”She always looks like a thorough lady, my dear: Mrs. Buckley is a woman whom I could set before you as a model for imitation far sooner than myself.”
”She is a duck, at all events,” said Mary; ”and her husband is a darling.”
Miss Thornton was too much shocked to say anything. To hear a young lady speak of a handsome military man as a ”darling,” went quite beyond her experience. She was considering how much bread and water and backboard she would have felt it her duty to give Lady Kate, or Lady f.a.n.n.y, in old times, for such an expression, when the Vicar, who had been dozing, woke up and said:--
”Bless us, what a night! The equinoctial gales come back again. This rain will make up for the dry March with a vengeance; I am glad I am safely housed before a good fire.”
Unlucky words! he drew nearer to the fire, and began rubbing his knees; he had given them about three rubs, when the door opened and the maid's voice was heard ominous of evil.
”Thomas Jewel is worse, sir, and if you please his missis don't expect he'll last the night; and could you just step up?”
”Just stepping up,” was a pretty little euphemism for walking three long miles dead in the teeth of a gale of wind, with a fierce rus.h.i.+ng tropical rain. One of the numerous tenders of the s.h.i.+p Jewel (74), had just arrived before the wind under bare poles, an attempt to set a rag of umbrella having ended in its being blown out of the bolt-ropes, and the aforesaid tender Jewel was now in the vicarage harbour of refuge, reflecting what an awful job it would have in beating back against the monsoon.
”Who has come with this message?” said the Vicar, entering the kitchen followed by Miss Thornton and Mary.
”Me, sir,” says a voice from the doorway.
”Oh, come in, will you,” said the Vicar; ”it's a terrible night, is it not?”
”Oh Loord!” said the voice in reply--intending that e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n for a very strong affirmative. And advancing towards the light, displayed a figure in a long brown great-coat, reaching to the ancles, and topped by some sort of head-dress, resembling very closely a small black carpet bag, tied on with a red cotton handkerchief. This was all that was visible, and the good Vicar stood doubting whether it was male or female, till catching sight of an immense pair of hobnail boots peeping from the lower extremity of the coat, he made up his mind at once, and began:--
”My good boy--”
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