Gladys, the Reaper. Anne Beale
having been, there, otherwise I should have gone to Jesus College and tried for a Welsh fellowship, which is more easily obtained, because there are few competitors.'
'Did you know anything of Mr. Neville, Sir Thomas Neville's son?' asked Miss Hall.
'Yes; I was introduced to him through some friends of my aunt's, and we became very intimate. He was very kind to me.'
'Is he clever?'
'Very. I think he has very fine talents, and is likely to shine at the bar if he continues in his resolution to go to it. I have just had an invitation to spend a few days with him, but do not think I shall have time before I go to be ordained.'
'Has your aunt settled the curacy?' asked Freda, with a wicked laugh in the corner of her eye.
'I think and hope so,' replied Rowland, answering the visible smile by a blush; 'she has done her utmost to obtain it for me.'
'Ah! she was well connected, and has some interest, and a—a great deal of energy, and all that sort of thing; I should think she was a clever, or I mean a—an enterprising woman.'
Mr. Gwynne hesitated as he said this, not admiring the lady in question, yet thinking it incumbent upon him to pay her a compliment. His daughter glanced inquiringly at Rowland, as if wondering what he could say to so dubious a speech. He appeared equally at a loss, and, as he turned from Mr. Gwynne for a moment, caught Miss Gwynne's mirthful eye. He could not help smiling, but said with much spirit—
'My aunt has been very good to me, Mr. Gwynne, and I owe her a heavy debt of gratitude for giving me at least the opportunity of getting on in the world.'
'Well, I like him for that,' thought Freda; 'and are you going to London?' she asked aloud, with a degree of interest.
'I am to be ordained by the Bishop of London to a city curacy,' was the reply.
'Will you allow me to take wine with you and wish you success, sir?' said Mr. Gwynne. 'Who knows but we may see you Bishop of London some day? Miss Hall, Freda, will you join us?'
Mr. Gwynne became quite animated. He felt proud that the son of his most respectable tenant should be going to take a London curacy.
Freda bent rather less stiffly than usual to Mr. Rowland Prothero. She was annoyed with herself for feeling more inclined to be friendly with him since she had heard that he was intimate with young Neville, and was to be ordained by the Bishop of London.
There was more conversation, which it is unnecessary to repeat; but in due course of time the ladies retired to the drawing-room, where they found Miss Nugent awaiting them.
'Whose beaux yeux do you think we have in the dining-room?' asked Freda.
'I am thure I cannot gueth; perhapth Thir Hugh Prythe's,' Miss Nugent lisped.
'Do you call his beaux yeux? Little ferret eyes like his! No; guess again.'
'Young Rithe Rithe?'
'Wrong again.'
'Not Captain Lewith?'
'Some one much nearer home.'
'I do not know any one elthe, exthept that Mr. Howel Jenkinth, who, they thay, will be quite a grand man.'
'I do not even know him. What do you think of his cousin, Mr. Rowland Prothero?'
'I never thought about him; mamma thayth he ith very handthome, but I am thure he is very gauche and countrified.'
'Oh, I am sure he is not. You are greatly mistaken, he has been in excellent society, and is going at once to a London living—curacy I mean, but it is all the same.'
Miss Hall looked rather amazed at Freda. A few hours before she had been lamenting the necessity of entertaining that 'stupid young Prothero.'
'Ith he really?' said Miss Nugent. 'The London curateth are tho interething. There ith one at Tht Jameth'th, with a pale face and black hair, and thuch a beautiful voice. Ith Mr. Prothero going to Tht Jameth'th?'
'You shall ask him yourself; I daresay he will like you to seem interested.'
'Are you going to Tht Jameth'th, Mr. Prothero?' inquired Miss Nugent, when that young man entered the room shortly after.
'I beg your pardon, I do not quite understand what you mean.'
'Mith Gwynne thaid you were going to a London curacy; I thought it might be Tht Jameth'th.'
'I believe not. If I go to London I shall probably be in the city—a very different locality to St. James's.'
'Oh! when we are in town we alwayth go to Tht Jameth'th, it ith thuch a nice church.'
Freda perceived that Miss Nugent's interest fell as soon as she found that Rowland was going into the city. She also saw a smile lurking about Rowland's mouth when he said—
'I have never been in London; but I suppose St. James's is one of the fashionable parts.'
'Oh yeth, very. Numberth of grand people go to Tht Jameth'th; don't you with you were going to be curate there instead of the thity?'
Rowland was grave in a moment.
'I should wish to labour wherever there is the largest field to work in, Miss Nugent, whether in the city or St. James's.'
'Yeth, to be sure, I believe there are loths of poor people in Tht Jameth'th. I onthe went by chance into thuch a nathty alley clothe by Tht Jameth'th Threet. Thuch dirty children!'
'Alas,' said Miss Hall, coming to the rescue of Rowland, who was looking quite distressed, 'we cannot go many steps in the London parishes, be they fashionable or unfashionable, without entering a "vineyard" amply wide enough for any one who wishes to work in it, whether priest or layman.'
Rowland looked round brightly and pleasantly at Miss Hall. Freda could not help noticing the sudden animation in a face that she had considered a minute ago almost heavy.
'When are we to have our game at chess?' interrupted Mr. Gwynne. 'The poor of London is a subject I quite dread to hear discussed, it is so hopeless. One can do no good, and what is the use of tormenting oneself about it here in Wales.'
'Oh, papa! they want very decided measures; plenty of police, active magistrates, and I don't know what besides,' said Freda.
'Would you allow me to supply what you have omitted?' asked Rowland; 'they want Christian sympathy, Christian teaching, brotherly kindness, and the aid of the rich and powerful.'
Freda considered Rowland's finale to her sentence impertinent and was about to take up the defence of her magisterial system very warmly, when she met a glance so earnest and appealing, and withal so beautiful in its earnestness, that she could not find in her heart to answer it by a hard look or word; so, for want of better reply, she went to prepare the chess-table.
'I wish you joy of that Saracenic game,' she said ironically, as her father and Rowland sat down to chess, not perhaps quite by the wish of one of the pair.
'I thought you liked chess, Freda?' said Miss Hall.
'Oh, pretty well, when I can get any one who does not beat me. I hate so to lose a game that I think it is better not to play at all than to run the risk of feeling in a passion, and not being able to give vent to it.'
'Perhaps the better plan would be to control the passion,' said Miss Hall.
'Impossible! I am sure it must be just such a feeling as a good general would have if he lost a battle, after having done his best to win it.'
'I suppose the best general is always the calmest, both in victory and defeat,' murmured Rowland, without taking his eyes from his men.
'If you would oblige me by not talking,' said Mr. Gwynne nervously; 'I can never play if my opponent talks.'
'I beg your pardon,' said Rowland; 'I know it is very disagreeable.'
'Are