LITTLE NOVELS [71]
which his Christianity inexhaustibly held out to him in the worst relapses of the weaker and viler part of his nature--on the steady and certain gain which was the ultimate reward of his faith and his firmness--and on the blessed sense of peace and happiness which accompanied the final triumph. Preaching to this effect, with the fervent conviction which I really felt, I may say for myself, at least, that I did no discredit to the choice which had placed me in the pulpit. I held the attention of my congregation, from the first word to the last.
While I was resting in the vestry on the conclusion of the service, a note was brought to me written in pencil. A member of my congregation--a gentleman--wished to see me, on a matter of considerable importance to himself. He would call on me at any place, and at any hour, which I might choose to appoint. If I wished to be satisfied of his respectability, he would beg leave to refer me to his father, with whose name I might possibly be acquainted.
The name given in the reference was undoubtedly familiar to me, as the name of a man of some celebrity and influence in the world of London. I sent back my card, appointing an hour for the visit of my correspondent on the afternoon of the next day.
VI.
THE stranger made his appearance punctually. I guessed him to be some two or three years younger than myself. He was undeniably handsome; his manners were the manners of a gentleman--and yet, without knowing why, I felt a strong dislike to him the moment he entered the room.
After the first preliminary words of politeness had been exchanged between us, my visitor informed me as follows of the object which he had in view.
"I believe you live in the country, sir?" he began.
"I live in the West of England," I answered.
"Do you make a long stay in London?"
"No. I go back to my rectory to-morrow."
"May I ask if you take pupils?"
"Yes."
"Have you any vacancy?"
"I have one vacancy."
"Would you object to let me go back with you to-morrow, as your pupil?"
The abruptness of the proposal took me by surprise. I hesitated.
In the first place (as I have already said), I disliked him. In the second place, he was too old to be a fit companion for my other two pupils--both lads in their teens. In the third place, he had asked me to receive him at least three weeks before the vacation came to an end. I had my own pursuits and amusements in prospect during that interval, and saw no reason why I should inconvenience myself by setting them aside.
He noticed my hesitation, and did not conceal from me that I had disappointed him.
"I have it very much at heart," he said, "to repair without delay the time that I have lost. My age is against me, I know. The truth is--I have wasted my opportunities since I left school, and I am anxious, honestly anxious, to mend my ways, before it is too late. I wish to prepare myself for one of the Universities--I wish to show, if I can, that I am not quite unworthy to inherit my father's famous name. You are the man to help me, if I can only persuade you to do it. I was struck by your sermon yesterday; and, if I may venture to make the confession in your presence, I took a strong liking to you. Will you see my father, before you decide to say No? He will be able to explain whatever may seem strange in my present application; and he will be happy to see you this afternoon, if you can spare the time. As to the question of terms, I am quite sure it can be settled to your entire satisfaction."
He was evidently in earnest--gravely, vehemently in earnest. I unwillingly consented to see his father.
Our interview was a long one. All my questions were answered fully and frankly.
The young man had led an idle and desultory life. He was weary of it, and ashamed of it. His disposition was a peculiar one. He stood sorely in need of a guide, a teacher, and a friend, in whom he was disposed to confide. If I disappointed the hopes which he had centered in me, he would be discouraged, and he would relapse into the aimless and indolent existence
While I was resting in the vestry on the conclusion of the service, a note was brought to me written in pencil. A member of my congregation--a gentleman--wished to see me, on a matter of considerable importance to himself. He would call on me at any place, and at any hour, which I might choose to appoint. If I wished to be satisfied of his respectability, he would beg leave to refer me to his father, with whose name I might possibly be acquainted.
The name given in the reference was undoubtedly familiar to me, as the name of a man of some celebrity and influence in the world of London. I sent back my card, appointing an hour for the visit of my correspondent on the afternoon of the next day.
VI.
THE stranger made his appearance punctually. I guessed him to be some two or three years younger than myself. He was undeniably handsome; his manners were the manners of a gentleman--and yet, without knowing why, I felt a strong dislike to him the moment he entered the room.
After the first preliminary words of politeness had been exchanged between us, my visitor informed me as follows of the object which he had in view.
"I believe you live in the country, sir?" he began.
"I live in the West of England," I answered.
"Do you make a long stay in London?"
"No. I go back to my rectory to-morrow."
"May I ask if you take pupils?"
"Yes."
"Have you any vacancy?"
"I have one vacancy."
"Would you object to let me go back with you to-morrow, as your pupil?"
The abruptness of the proposal took me by surprise. I hesitated.
In the first place (as I have already said), I disliked him. In the second place, he was too old to be a fit companion for my other two pupils--both lads in their teens. In the third place, he had asked me to receive him at least three weeks before the vacation came to an end. I had my own pursuits and amusements in prospect during that interval, and saw no reason why I should inconvenience myself by setting them aside.
He noticed my hesitation, and did not conceal from me that I had disappointed him.
"I have it very much at heart," he said, "to repair without delay the time that I have lost. My age is against me, I know. The truth is--I have wasted my opportunities since I left school, and I am anxious, honestly anxious, to mend my ways, before it is too late. I wish to prepare myself for one of the Universities--I wish to show, if I can, that I am not quite unworthy to inherit my father's famous name. You are the man to help me, if I can only persuade you to do it. I was struck by your sermon yesterday; and, if I may venture to make the confession in your presence, I took a strong liking to you. Will you see my father, before you decide to say No? He will be able to explain whatever may seem strange in my present application; and he will be happy to see you this afternoon, if you can spare the time. As to the question of terms, I am quite sure it can be settled to your entire satisfaction."
He was evidently in earnest--gravely, vehemently in earnest. I unwillingly consented to see his father.
Our interview was a long one. All my questions were answered fully and frankly.
The young man had led an idle and desultory life. He was weary of it, and ashamed of it. His disposition was a peculiar one. He stood sorely in need of a guide, a teacher, and a friend, in whom he was disposed to confide. If I disappointed the hopes which he had centered in me, he would be discouraged, and he would relapse into the aimless and indolent existence