Chapter V

IT was understood that he was going when he said "Good-bye" to Elsie at the gate and to Katie at the door of the cottage. He was off to Norway on a fishing expedition, and September would be far on before his return.

How differently Elsie now thought of Norway from what she had done before! A few hours ago the distance had seemed so terrible, and a month so long; now, while every one else laments Mr. Gilmour's absence, and wonders how much of the parochial machinery will be kept running and free from entanglement while he is away, Elsie rejoices at it, or thinks she does.

The master of Rathlands returned to the Park in due course. Uncle Edward—an old friend of the late Mr. Mitchelson, and acquainted with the present one—was amongst the first to call and welcome him back. Under such circumstances the families slid rapidly into intimacy, and there was much going to and fro between the Park and the Priory.

Uncle Edward did not forget to talk to Mr. Mitchelson of his absent favourite, and carefully informed that gentleman of the many schemes for the well-being of the poor and neglected ones of the parish which the young clergyman had already inaugurated.

Mr. Mitchelson listened with deep interest to all these details, then said—

"When I hear what one young man has accomplished, and in so short a time, I take shame to myself when I think of all I might have done in as many years. True, I had a sorrow of no ordinary kind, but after the first smart of the wound was over, I might have found some comfort, and imparted much, if I had set myself to use the means God has given me for the benefit of those who had heavy trials without such alleviations as, in God's goodness, I have been permitted to enjoy."

"It is through the influence of such a man as you describe in Mr. Gilmour that I have been aroused to a sense of my own responsibility, and induced to return here and endeavour, in God's strength, to do my duty in the place to which He has called me."

"You have done well, Mitchelson," said Uncle Edward. "The past may—nay, must be—irreparable. The present is ours to work in, the future to hope for and prepare for. I can only wish you God-speed, and if an old man's head can help a young one's hand, mine, such as it is, may be counted upon."

As the masters of the Park and the Priory became more closely associated, it was quite natural that the rector should make a third in their consultations, and Mr. Gilmour's various helpers in the work of the parish were drawn into the same circle.

Miss Chatterton was in high feather, and went from house to house lauding Mr. Mitchelson's liberality, kindness, and social qualities.

"You find him a delightful neighbour, my dears, do you not?" she asked of Katie and Elsie. "Charmingly unaffected, and instead of giving himself airs or assuming the grand seigneur over Rathbury people, ready to take a hint from anybody. I should think he listened patiently for half an hour this morning whilst I enlightened him as to the want of thrift in that one family."

I fear the two girls' conduct cannot be excused, but, dreading a recapitulation of the said half-hour's talk, with additions and variations, ad lib, they made some inaudible excuse, which even Miss Chatterton's quick ear failed to catch, and hurried away.

Miss Chatterton's face was not quite pleasant to behold as she looked after the retreating figures. "No time to bestow upon an old woman now. I used to think them models of simplicity and good manners, and amongst the few of the chits of to-day who could treat their elders with proper respect. Never mind. We shall see."

As she finished this mental confabulation, Miss Chatterton turned her steps in an opposite direction to that in which the girls had gone, and, nodding her head sagaciously, went her way.

In olden days, the owners of Rathlands had been accustomed to encourage their humble neighbours in their attempts at window gardening, and offered prizes for the best flowers, as well as for vegetables and fruit. Mr. Mitchelson had returned too late for this little show to be held at the usual time, but it was arranged that on the fifteenth of September there was to be an exhibition of the kind. The local gentry would take part in it. The show would be revived, and another year they hoped it would be made a greater success.

Whatever might be lacking in the articles exhibited on this occasion would be made up, it was hoped, by certain festivities which were to accompany it. A special entertainment, a kind of house-warming, was to take place, and guests of every degree to be hospitably entertained in accordance with their several positions.

"And it is good of him to do all this," said Miss Chatterton to everybody. "Mr. Mitchelson is so delightfully ready to profit by, and act upon, a hint from a neighbour."

If Rathbury folk had not known Miss Chatterton, they might have been deluded into thinking that to some judicious hint of hers the approaching festivities were all owing, and that she was at the helm of Rathlands' affairs, turning its master wheresoever she listed. Whatever they might believe, there is no doubt she thought she possessed great influence, because Mr. Mitchelson Was too polite to run away when she had actually compelled his attention in the first instance; but, like other Rathbury folk, he soon acquired preternatural sharp-sightedness, and when Miss Chatterton appeared in the distance, he disappeared, with all possible rapidity, in the opposite direction. And, like everybody else in Rathbury, Mr. Mitchelson felt not a little thankful that, however sharp-sighted the elderly spinster might be in some respects, Nature had rendered her physically unable to see far beyond the tip of her very aquiline and aristocratic nose.

Few people, however, judged that Miss Chatterton had any malice in her composition. She was generally regarded as being a little too much inclined to pry into her neighbours' affairs, and to repeat what concerned them with unnecessary freedom; a little too ready to lecture the poor, even while relieving them; and forgetful that a cottage and a palace are equally the castle of the English man and woman abiding therein.

Rathbury folk had not yet gone far below the surface of Miss Chatterton's feelings, and, perhaps, of all who knew her, Elsie Manning had formed the truest estimate of her character.

There is a sort of instinct in us which rouses a feeling of suspicion, dread, or antagonism towards certain individuals. Is it not a species of armour, Divinely bestowed, to enable us to protect ourselves against attacks of a sort too subtle to be met by ordinary means?

The writer can of course read the minds of his characters, and this is what Miss Chatterton said to herself: "Mr. Mitchelson is looking out for another wife, and, if I am not mistaken, it will be one of the Priory girls. The youngest, most likely, for she is so like his dead wife. That match would just suit Mrs. Manning, but I think the course will not be quite so smooth as she anticipates. I should like to put a little something in the way which will disappoint both mother and daughter."

"If only Mr. Gilmour were back again. I dare say Miss Elsie thinks I did not see the flutter of her white dress as she escaped by the window when I called at the Priory. Perhaps she fancies I was too far off to know anything of the parting at the gate when Mr. Gilmour held her hand so unnecessarily long, and bent his head so low, to whisper his good-bye. Miss Elsie's cheek was rosy enough, though to most eyes there was nothing special to be seen. Near-sighted I may be, but one does not need spectacles for what is going on under one's very nose. My going into the lodge to ask after Mason's sick child was a most fortunate circumstance, for which I feel quite thankful."

"And Mrs. Manning, too! Giving herself airs, when, just in a joking way, I said a word or two about Mr. Mitchelson being a good match; as though I could not see through her and her plans! Poor old Mr. Manning! I dare say he thinks his sister-in-law perfect, and the girls angels, in all but the wings. Ah! No doubt they are all counting on their shares in the old gentleman's money-bags. It would have been well for him if, instead of adopting a family in that wholesale way, he had chosen some good sensible woman of suitable age, and married again."

Perhaps, without going further into Miss Chatterton's thoughts, we may be able to guess what was the bitterest drop in the full cup of grievances which Mrs. Manning and her family had, quite unconsciously, prepared for that lady's drinking.