Or if it must even be so some day, Ah love? Do I seem to be blaming you? I No shade of reproach is meant ! am only thinking of long ago, And the letters that came and went. Those which went, by a blind impulse, The gradual fading of generous terms, The many excuses of haste, With such a meagre taste! And I-I compared them each with each, And all this while, from house to house, Or, it may be, grief for days to come Well, I have lingered long enough, A strange whim, no doubt, to haunt one's brain, NOTICE TO CORRESPONDENTS. THE Editor of the CHRISTIAN WORLD MAGAZINE begs respectfully to intimate to voluntary contributors that she will not hold herself responsible for MSS. sent on approval. Unaccepted MSS. of any great length will be returned, provided the name and address of the owner is written on the first or last page, and provided also that the necessary stamps are enclosed for transmission through the post. Authors are recommended to keep copies of verses, short essays, and minor articles generally, since they cannot, under any circumstances, be returned. Miscellaneous contributions are not requested. THE CHRISTIAN WORLD MAGAZINE. APRIL, 1882. WARLEIGH'S TRUST. BY THE EDITOR. CHAPTER VII.-" BIDE A WEE!" SUNDAY morning came, and Frank, Hilda, and Janetta attended Divine service in the venerable parish church of Southcombe. It was a sultry July day, and even the mouldy pews and moth-eaten cushions seemed comfortable in the glowing sunshine that poured through the large windows of the south aisle, and lit up the neglected sanctuary to its uttermost recesses. It showed, however, the dust that had accumulated for so many years on tomb and pillar, woodwork, and quaint old font. The faded upholstery of pulpit and chancel looked all the more hueless for the brightness of the world outside. The tattered banners were more like "dirty rags" than ever, and the broken rail and the noseless crusader showed to the full their decay and dilapidation. It had been arranged that Hilda should accompany Marris to the modest little conventicle, where she had been accustomed to worship in the days long past, and where there was no danger of any one taking a chill and being laid up in consequence, though it was by no means an unusual event for some members of the congregation to be carried out fainting from the effects of the great heat and the insanitary atmosphere. But when Miss Warleigh understood that she was to be pastured in the folds of Wesleyan Methodism that day, she lifted up her voice and wept aloud, and declared, vehemently, that she would go with uncle and Janetta into the great church, on the merits and defects of which she had heard her nurse and the other servants discoursing. Janetta, too, had talked in her hearing about the stained windows which, however, were terribly broken, and patched anyhow; about the rusty armour hanging up in the ladye-chapel, and about the stone ladies and gentlemen reposing side by side; and she cried and stormed till Mr. Willabye assured her that she should go to church with him, and see everything that was to be seen, including the great tumble-down organ, that had lost its bellows. So to church she went, holding fast to her uncle's hand, and chattering all the way about the iniquities of Marris, who had wanted to make her go to chapel, saying that little girls ought to be obedient, and never dream of objecting to what their elders willed, and that she-Hilda-was getting" such a regular handful," that very soon it would be necessary to send her to a boardingschool, or engage for her a strict governess, whose word should be law, and whose rule should be severe. "But I shan't go to school, nor have a governess, shall I?" inquired the young lady, as, in her white muslin dress, and shady Leghorn hat, she tripped along the path. "Marris had no business to say it, had she, uncle?" "Well," replied Frank, trying to speak very seriously, "I really don't know what to say, Hilda; but if you are so naughty as to cry and scream every time you cannot have your own way, I am afraid we shall have to do something that you will not like. We shall have to advertise for a governess who knows how to keep little girls in order, and teach them to be good and gentle." "I won't have a governess!" retorted Hilda, in her most imperious tone. "I hate governesses! Only, you said you were my governess, Janetta! I should not mind you very much, because you always do as I bid you, and you never tease me to do things that I don't want to do! So, uncle, if I must have a governess and Marris says I must before long, because I am Miss Warleigh of Warleigh, and all young ladies have to be what she calls educated! I can read, almost, and I should like to learn to write and to draw pictures, and to play on the piano, as Janetta can-so I'll have her, please?" "We will see about it," said Frank, rather shortly; "that bell means that the service is just going to begin, so we must make haste; we set out rather late, and all through you, you troublesome little pussy!" י "But I can have Janetta for a governess, can't I?" persisted the child. "That is a question that needs to be gravely considered," said Frank, again. "I have been thinking lately that it would be better for you to go to a good, nice school, where there are more little girls, with whom you could play and learn your lessons. But never mind schools and governesses now-the bell has stopped! Which, indeed, it had; still, as they were already in the churchyard, it did not matter much, for the clergyman had only just stepped into the reading-desk as they entered, and, beholding Mr. Willabye and his family, discreetly lingered a moment longer with his face in the folds of his surplice, that his new parishioner might have time to seat himself before he commenced with the familiar "When the wicked man," &c. Archbishop Laud's ancient custom prevailed, of course, at Southcombe. No jot or tittle of the incorporated services was spared to the unlucky congregation, who, however, were quite too conservative to lend themselves to the modern practice of beginning with, or altogether omitting, the Litany. "As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be," was Creed and Gloria all in one to these stalwart State Churchmen, who would as soon have patronised high farming, with all its dreadful concomitants of guano and steam ploughs, as permit themselves to be mulct in their oldfashioned orthodox Sunday morning service. The Rev. Thomas Mumble was really about fifty years of age, but he might have passed for seventy, so lustreless were his eyes, so bowed his figure, and so toothless, apparently, his gums! He was commonly called "our old curate" in the neighbourhood, and he bore the reputation of being an excellent man-as, indeed, he was, according to his lights!-and a wonderful "scholard," which, no doubt, he was also, as he was an authority on Greek points and Oriental languages generally. If he had had to preach and pray in Sanscrit or Hebrew he would probably have been most eloquent; but being by Act of Parliament condemned to "the vulgar tongue," he failed conspicuously in making himself understood, so that by the time he came to the Nicene Creed half the congregation were asleep, and the other half wearing away the weary hour as best they could. There was no chanting, for nobody in the place could chant in anything like time and tune. The psalmody was that furnished by the immortal Brady and Tate, if we except the morning hymr. of Bishop Ken, which was screamed in diverse keys by half-a-dozen youths and village maidens, to the accompaniment of the wheezy, growling harmonium, which seemed fast going the way of the superannuated organ. Before the sermon they sang to a tune which neither Frank nor Janetta had ever heard before, a portion of the 119th Psalm— "Consider my affliction, Lord, And me from bondage draw; By the time the eighth verse of this dreary canticle was finished Frank felt that he might bracket himself with the "servants in distress," and he sat down with a sigh of relief to listen to the sermon; for, as the last chords of the dismal adagio music died away, Mr. Mumble slowly, and with an air of extreme depression, mounted the pulpit stairs, having first paid a visit to the mouldy vestry, in order to discard his surplice, and assumed the preacher's gown. Hilda had sunk down to a comfortable nap, during the reading of the Epistle, and Janetta envied her, as she herself sat, during the singing, in order not to disturb the little sleeper, who had made a pillow of her knees. But inwardly Miss Morrison mused on the conversation which had transpired on their way to church, and thought how wise a plan it was of hers to nominate herself Hilda's honorary governess; and how expedient it was that she should, to some extent, really assume the office, since it would form a valid excuse for lingering on as an inmate of Mr. Willabye's family, should the term of her visit (?) expire before her cherished plans had proved successful. If only Hilda became so fond of her that she clamoured for her services, all would be well. She only wanted time, and her scheme must answer. So far she had gained quite as much ground as could fairly be expected, seeing that Frank had set out by according her but a very sorry welcome, cherishing in his heart a strong prejudice against her, the result, no doubt, of that poor, weak Martha's unreasonable dislike. She had sworn to herself that he should, in unmistakable plain English, ask her to stay in his house, and he had done so; and gone much farther than she had even dared to anticipate; and now she was, if she could only be cautious enough, to all intents and purposes the temporary mistress of River House. Ah! well, it would be no fault of hers if she ever let slip the reins which she had so skilfully contrived to handle. She could be patientand there is nothing in the world like patience for the furthering of one's own end. Everything earthly is possible to the man or the woman who is content to wait! A hurried move too often loses the game that a very poor hand, with a little more discretion, might triumphantly have won. Frank listened dreamily to Mr. Mumble's inaudible discourse, and he, too, wished that he could, without giving cause of scandal, follow the example of his cosy, heavy-eyed little ward. Then he thought of the well-known lines of the " Northern Farmer," and wondered whether the Laureate had ever visited Southcombe Church, and been subjected to the cruel penance of the Rev. Thomas Mumble's ministry; and he tried to get over the weary minutes by recalling the verse— "An' I hallus com'd to's choorch afoor my Sally wur dead, An' 'eerd 'um a bummin away loik a buzzard clock ower my 'eäd, An' I niver knaw'd what a mean'd, but I thowt a 'ad summut to saäy, An' I thowt a said what a owt to 'a said an' I coom'd awaäy." |