you would have done better at Oxford. But you could have got no home for them like their old home; could you?"
"No, of course not," said Arthur, answering almost at random, and thinking how best he might explain the sacrifice which he had made without taking too much credit to himself.
"And then, if you had remained up there, you would only have become a musty old don. I don't think you would have been happy, not so happy as in a parish. And when a man is a clergyman"—this she said in a lower and somewhat a solemn voice—"surely he cannot be so well placed as in charge of a parish. Don't you think so, Mr. Wilkinson?"
"Certainly. It is the life for which he is intended; for which he should have intended himself."
"And I am sure it is a happy life; look at papa; I do not know any happier man—only that poor mamma died."
And upon this hint he spake. "Yes, yourfather I am sure has been a happy man, and he is an excellent clergyman."
"Is he not? even still so active! And he is so glad now to have you near him."
"I wish I had received my living as he did his; not that it would make any real difference."
"He got his, you know, from the bishop. But do you dislike being Lord Stapledean's nominee?"
"It would be ungrateful to say that; but I certainly do not like Lord Stapledean. However, I have taken his living, and should not complain."
"I did not know that there was anything disagreeable."
"There is this, Adela. I had rather tell you; and I came over today in part to do so: but you will see that the matter is one that should not be talked about," and he looked down on the floor, poking about on the carpet pattern with his stick, being unable any longer to meet the clear gaze of her soft eye.
"Oh, I am sorry if there is anything to distress you."
"Not exactly to distress me, perhaps; but I will tell you. When the marquis offered me the living, he did it on the stipulation that I should pay over to my mother three hundred and fifty pounds a year during her life. I doubt whether it was right to accept it on these conditions; but I did so. The living, therefore, is rather hers than mine."
"Oh, Arthur, how good of you!" In spite of all Aunt Penelope's lessons, old habits would sometimes get the better of her.
"I don't know; I am afraid that it was not good."
"Why? I can't understand? Surely it must be good to give up your time, your labour, your hopes"—Adela did not say his heart—"for your mother and sisters' good! Why, how can it be else than good? I think it good, and shall think so."
"At any rate, Adela, I could not withstand the offer when it was made to me."
"I am sure you could not."
"So I am little more than a curate in the parish as far as the income is concerned; with this difference, that I can't change my curacy for a living should a chance offer."
Adela had never before known him to be solicitous about money for himself, and now she felt that she did not understand him. "But you have got your fellowship," said she.
"Yes, I have got my fellowship: oh, as far as that is concerned, I am better off than I could ever have expected to be. But, nevertheless, one feels—feels crippled by such an arrangement. It is quite impossible, you know, for instance, that—that—that I should do a great many things." His courage failed him as he was about to make the fatal announcement.
"What things?" said Adela, with all the boldness of innocence.
It was necessary that he should say it. "Why, for instance," he continued, "it is quite impossible, though perhaps that does not make much matter; but it is quite impossible—that I should ever marry." And still looking downupon the ground, he poked sedulously among the patterns with his stick.
"Oh!" said Adela, with a tremour in her voice, and her eye was no longer able to rest upon his face.
There was a pause during which neither of them said a word, or saw each other. As far as Adela was concerned, immediate speech was impossible. She neither cried, nor sighed,
"No, of course not," said Arthur, answering almost at random, and thinking how best he might explain the sacrifice which he had made without taking too much credit to himself.
"And then, if you had remained up there, you would only have become a musty old don. I don't think you would have been happy, not so happy as in a parish. And when a man is a clergyman"—this she said in a lower and somewhat a solemn voice—"surely he cannot be so well placed as in charge of a parish. Don't you think so, Mr. Wilkinson?"
"Certainly. It is the life for which he is intended; for which he should have intended himself."
"And I am sure it is a happy life; look at papa; I do not know any happier man—only that poor mamma died."
And upon this hint he spake. "Yes, yourfather I am sure has been a happy man, and he is an excellent clergyman."
"Is he not? even still so active! And he is so glad now to have you near him."
"I wish I had received my living as he did his; not that it would make any real difference."
"He got his, you know, from the bishop. But do you dislike being Lord Stapledean's nominee?"
"It would be ungrateful to say that; but I certainly do not like Lord Stapledean. However, I have taken his living, and should not complain."
"I did not know that there was anything disagreeable."
"There is this, Adela. I had rather tell you; and I came over today in part to do so: but you will see that the matter is one that should not be talked about," and he looked down on the floor, poking about on the carpet pattern with his stick, being unable any longer to meet the clear gaze of her soft eye.
"Oh, I am sorry if there is anything to distress you."
"Not exactly to distress me, perhaps; but I will tell you. When the marquis offered me the living, he did it on the stipulation that I should pay over to my mother three hundred and fifty pounds a year during her life. I doubt whether it was right to accept it on these conditions; but I did so. The living, therefore, is rather hers than mine."
"Oh, Arthur, how good of you!" In spite of all Aunt Penelope's lessons, old habits would sometimes get the better of her.
"I don't know; I am afraid that it was not good."
"Why? I can't understand? Surely it must be good to give up your time, your labour, your hopes"—Adela did not say his heart—"for your mother and sisters' good! Why, how can it be else than good? I think it good, and shall think so."
"At any rate, Adela, I could not withstand the offer when it was made to me."
"I am sure you could not."
"So I am little more than a curate in the parish as far as the income is concerned; with this difference, that I can't change my curacy for a living should a chance offer."
Adela had never before known him to be solicitous about money for himself, and now she felt that she did not understand him. "But you have got your fellowship," said she.
"Yes, I have got my fellowship: oh, as far as that is concerned, I am better off than I could ever have expected to be. But, nevertheless, one feels—feels crippled by such an arrangement. It is quite impossible, you know, for instance, that—that—that I should do a great many things." His courage failed him as he was about to make the fatal announcement.
"What things?" said Adela, with all the boldness of innocence.
It was necessary that he should say it. "Why, for instance," he continued, "it is quite impossible, though perhaps that does not make much matter; but it is quite impossible—that I should ever marry." And still looking downupon the ground, he poked sedulously among the patterns with his stick.
"Oh!" said Adela, with a tremour in her voice, and her eye was no longer able to rest upon his face.
There was a pause during which neither of them said a word, or saw each other. As far as Adela was concerned, immediate speech was impossible. She neither cried, nor sighed,
Similar Books
