\J,^jn.WV'J^XV^-<p.-l-«>-^!(^JCT%\ ■
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
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 y 
 
 •1^
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW.
 
 ' A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCES ELEANOR TROLLOPE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 " jlvst maegabei's trouble," "Mabel's PEOQBBas," 
 
 ETC. ETC. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 * ■> •> > 1 
 
 
 HonBon : 
 CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 
 
 1876.
 
 CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS, 
 CBTSTAL PALACE PEES3. 
 
 
 • •» •* •••< 
 
 *•• » •« •>« ••• 
 
 . , • . . . • .».<•..... ■ • • • . • . • •
 
 
 ^1 
 
 V , 
 
 A CHAEMING FELLOW. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 n "To be frank witli you^ Mr. Diamond, I don^fc 
 believe Dr. Bodkin understands my son's genius." 
 J "^^I beg your pardon, madam, you said your 
 son's ? " 
 
 " Genius, sir; tlie bent of his genius. Algy's is 
 not a mechanical mind." 
 
 Mrs. Errington slightly tossed her head as she 
 uttered the word " mechanical." 
 
 Mr. Diamond said " Oh ! " and then sat silent. 
 
 The room was very quiet. The autumn day was 
 fading, and the mingling of twilight and firelight, 
 and the stillness of the scene, were conducive to 
 mute meditation. It was a long, low room, with 
 an uneven floor, a whitewashed ceiling crossed by 
 heavy beams, and one large bow window. It was 
 furnished with the spindle-legged chairs and tables 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 in use in tlie last century. A crimson drugget 
 covered tlie floor, and in front of tlie lieartli lay 
 a rug, made of scraps of black and coloured clotli, 
 neatly sewn together in a pattern. Over tlie liigli 
 wooden mantelpiece tung, on one side, a faded 
 water-colour sketcli of a gentleman, witli powdered 
 hair ; and on tlie other, an oval miniature of much 
 later date, which represented a fair, florid young 
 lady, with large languid blue eyes, and a red mouth, 
 somewhat too full-lipped. Notwithstanding the 
 years which had elapsed since the miniature was 
 painted, it was still sufl&ciently like Mrs. Errington 
 to be recognised for her portrait. There was an 
 old harpsichord in the room, and a few books on 
 hanging shelves. But the only handsome or costly 
 object to be seen were some delicate blue and 
 white china cups and saucers, which glistened from 
 an oaken corner-cupboard; and a large work-box 
 of tortoise-shell, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, lined 
 with amber satin, and fitted with all the implements 
 of needlework, in richly-chased silver. The box, 
 like the china cupboard, stood wide open to display 
 its contents, and was evidently a subject of pride 
 to its possessor. It was entirely incongruous with 
 the rest of the furniture, which, although decent 
 and serviceable, was very plain, and rather scanty. 
 
 Nevertheless the room looked snug and home- 
 like. The coal-fire burnt with a deep glowing 
 light ; a small copper kettle was singing cheerily
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 on the hob ; tea-things were laid on a table in front 
 of the fire ; and a fitful, moaning wind, that rattled 
 now and then against the antique casement, en- 
 hanced the comfort of the scene by its suggestion 
 of forlorn chilliness without. 
 
 But however the influences of the time and 
 place might incline Mr. Diamond to silence, they 
 had no such effect on Mrs. Errington. 
 
 After a short pause, during which she seemed 
 to be awaiting some remark from her companion, 
 she observed once more, '■'' No ; I do not think 
 the doctor understands Algy's genius. And that 
 is why I was anxious to ask your advice, on this 
 proposition of Mr. Filthorpe^s." 
 
 "■But, madam, why should you suppose me 
 likely to understand Algernon better than Dr. 
 Bodkin does?^' 
 
 " Oh, because In the first place, you are 
 
 younger, nearer Algy^s own age.'' 
 
 " Ah ! There is a wide gap, though, between 
 his eighteen and my eight-and-twenty — a wider 
 gap than the mere ten years would necessarily 
 make in all cases.'' 
 
 Mrs. Errington glanced at the speaker, and 
 thought, in the maternal pride of her heart, that 
 there was indeed a wide difference between her 
 joyous, handsome Algernon, and Matthew Diamond, 
 second master at the Whitford Grammar School; 
 and she thought, too, that the difference was all to
 
 A CH ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 her son's advantage. Mr. Diamond was a grave- 
 looking young man^ with a spare, strong figure, 
 and a face which, in repose, was neither handsome 
 nor ugly. His clean-shaven chin and upper lip 
 were firmly cut, and he had a pair of keen grey 
 eyes. But such as it was, it was a face which 
 most persons who saw it often, fell into a habit of 
 watching. It raised an indefinite expectation. You 
 were instinctively aware of something latent be- 
 neath its habitual expression of seriousness and 
 reserve. What the " something " might be, was 
 variously guessed at according to the temperament 
 of the observer. 
 
 " Then there is another reason why I wished to 
 consult you,^' pursued Mrs. Errington. " I have a 
 great opinion of your judgment, from what Algy 
 tells me. I assure you Algy thinks an immense 
 deal of your talents, Mr. Diamond. You must not 
 think I flatter you." 
 
 "No," replied Mr. Diamond, very quietly, " I do 
 not think you flatter me," 
 
 " And therefore I have told you the state of the 
 case quite openly. And I would not have you 
 hesitate to give your advice, from any fear of dis- 
 agreeing with my opinion." 
 
 Mr. Diamond leaned his elbow on the table,, and 
 his face on his hand, which he held so as to hide 
 his mouth — an habitual posture with him — and 
 looked gravely at Mrs. Errington.
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 "I trust/' contiuued tlie lady^ "that I am 
 superior to the weakness of requiring bhnd acquies- 
 cence from people.'' 
 
 Mrs. Errington spoke in a mellow, measured 
 voice, and had a soft smiling cast of countenance. 
 Both these were frequently contradicted in a start- 
 ling manner by the words she uttered : for, in 
 truthj the worthy lady's soul and body were no 
 more like each other than a peach-stone is like a 
 peach. Her velvety softness was not aifected, but 
 it was merely external, and the real woman was 
 nothing less than tender. Sensitive persons did 
 not fare very well with Mrs. Errington; who, 
 withal, had the reputation of being an exceedingly 
 good-natured woman. 
 
 "If you think my advice worth having " 
 
 said Mr. Diamond. 
 
 " I do really. Now pray don't be shy of 
 speaking out ! " interrupted the lady, reassuringly. 
 
 " I must tell you that I think your cousin's 
 offer is much too good to be refused, and opens a 
 prospect which many young men would envy.'' 
 
 " You advise us to accept it ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Why, then, Mr. Diamond, I don't believe 
 you understand Algy one bit better than the doctor 
 does ! " exclaimed Mrs. Errington, leaning back in 
 her chair, and folding her large white hands to- 
 gether in a resigned manner.
 
 A CE ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 " I warned you, you know, tliat I miglit not," 
 answered Mr. Diamond, composedly, 
 
 " ' A prospect wldcli many young men would 
 envy ! ' Well, perhaps ''many young men,' yes ; I 
 daresay. But for Algy ! Do but tliink of it, 
 Mr. Diamond ; to sit all day on a high stool in a 
 musty office ! You must own tliat, for a young 
 fellow of my son's spirit, the idea is not alluring." 
 
 " Oh, if the question be merely for Algernon 
 to choose some method of passing his time which 
 shall be alluring " 
 
 Mrs. Errington drew herself up a little. "No ; " 
 said she, " that is certainly not the question, Mr. 
 Diamond. At the same time, before embracing 
 Mr. Fil thorp e's offer, I thought it only reasonable 
 to ask myself, ' May we not do better ? Can we 
 not do better ? ' '' 
 
 " I beg-in to perceive,^' thought Matthew Dia- 
 mond within himself, " that Mrs. Erriugton^s 
 meaning, when she asks ^advice,' is pretty much 
 like that of most of her neighbours. Having- 
 already made up her mind how to act, she would 
 like to be told that her decision is the best and 
 wisest conceivable." He said nothing, however, 
 but bowed his head a little, to show that he was 
 giving attention to the lady's discourse. 
 
 "We have an alternative, you must know," 
 said Mrs. Errington, turning her eyes languidly on 
 Mr. Diamond, but not moving her head from its
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 comfortable resting-place against tlie back of lier 
 well-cusliioned arm-chair. " We are not bound 
 hand and foot to this Bristol merchant. By the 
 ^^J} you spoke of him as my cousin " 
 
 " I beg your pardon ; is he not so ? ^' 
 
 "No; not mine. My poor husband's/' with a 
 glance at the portrait over the mantelpiece. 
 "None of my family ever had the remotest con- 
 nection with commerce." 
 
 " Ha ! The good fortune was all on the side of 
 the Erringtons ? " 
 
 This time Mrs. Errington turned her head_, so 
 as to look full at her interlocutor. There met her 
 view the same calm forehead, the same steady eyes, 
 the same sheltering hand gently stroking the upper 
 lip, which she had looked upon a minute before. 
 
 " My good sir ! " she answered, in a tone of 
 patient explanation, " my own family, the Ancrams, 
 were people of the very first quality in Warwick- 
 shire. My grandfather never stirred out without 
 his coach and four ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes, Algy's prospects in life ought to be 
 very, very different from what they are. Of course 
 he ought to go to the university; but I cannot 
 afford to send him there. I make no secret of my 
 circumstances. College is out of the question for 
 him, poor boy, unless he entered himself as a what- 
 do-you-call-it ? A sort of pauper, a sizar. And
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 I suppose you would hardly advise Mm to do 
 that ! " 
 
 '' No ; I should by no means advise it, I was a 
 sizar myself/' 
 
 " Really ? Ah well, then you know what it is. 
 And I am quite sure it would never suit Algy's 
 spirits." 
 
 " I am quite sure it would not." 
 
 Mrs. Errington's good opinion of the tutor's 
 judgment, which had been considerably shaken, 
 began to revive. 
 
 " I see you know something of his character," 
 said she, smiling. " Well, then, the case stands 
 thus ; Algy is turned eighteen ; he has had the best 
 education I could give him — indeed, my chief 
 motive for settling in this obscure little hole, when 
 I was left a widow, was the fact that Dr. Bodkin, 
 who was an old acquaintance of my husband, was 
 head of the Grammar School here, and I knew I 
 could give my boy the education of a gentleman — 
 up to a certain point — at small expense. He has 
 had this offer from the Bristol man, and he has had 
 another offer of a very different sort from my side 
 of the house." 
 
 '' Indeed ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; perhaps if I had began by stating 
 that circumstance, you might have modified your 
 advice, eh, Mr. Diamond ? " This was said in a 
 tone of mild raillery.
 
 A CH ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 " Why/' answered Mr. Diamond, slowly, " I 
 mnst own that my advice usually does depend 
 somewhat on my knowledge of the circumstances 
 of the case under consideration/' 
 
 " Now, that's candid — and I love candour, as I 
 told you. The fact is. Lord Seely married an 
 Ancram." 
 
 There was a pause. Mrs. Errington looked 
 inquiringly at her companion, " You have heard 
 of Lord Seely ? " she said. 
 
 " I have seen his name in the newspapers, in 
 the days when I used to read newspapers." 
 
 " He is a most distinguished nobleman." 
 
 Another pause. 
 
 "AYell," continued Mrs. Errington, condescend- 
 ingly, " I cannot expect all that to interest you, Mr. 
 Diamond. Perhaps there may be a little family 
 partiality, in my estimate of Lord Seely. How- 
 ever, be that as it may, he married an Ancram. 
 She was of the younger branch, my father's second 
 cousin. When Algy first began to turn his 
 thoughts towards a diplomatic career " 
 
 " ]6h ? " 
 
 " A diplomatic Oh, didn't you know ? Yes ; 
 
 he has had serious thoughts of it for some time." 
 
 " Algernon ? " 
 
 " Certainly ! And, in confidence, Mr. Diamond, 
 I think it would suit him admirably. I fancy it is 
 what his genius is best adapted for. Well, when
 
 ]0 A CEABMING FELLOW. 
 
 I perceived this bent in liim, I made — indirectly — 
 application to Lady Seely, and slie returned — also 
 indirectly — a most gracious answer. She should be 
 happy to receive Mr. Algernon Ancram Errington, 
 whenever she was in town." 
 
 " Is that all ? " 
 
 "All?'' 
 
 "All that you have to tell me, to modify — and 
 so on ?" 
 
 " That would lead to more, don't you see ? 
 Lord Seely has enormous influence, and I don't 
 know anyone better able to push the fortunes of a 
 young man like Algy." 
 
 " But has he promised anything definite ? " 
 
 "He could hardly do that, seeing that, as yet^ 
 he knows nothing of my son whatever ! My dear 
 Mr. Diamond, when you know as much of the world 
 as I do, you will see that it does not do to rush at 
 things in a hurry. You must give people time. 
 Especially a man like Lord Seely, who of course 
 cannot be expected to — to " 
 
 " Do you mean that you seriously contemplate 
 dropping the substance of Eilthorpe, for this shadow 
 of Seely ? " 
 
 " Mr, Diamond ! What very extraordinary ex- 
 pressions ! " 
 
 Mr. Diamond took his hand from his mouth, 
 clasped both hands on his knee, and sat look- 
 ing into the fire as abstractedly as if there had
 
 A CH ARMING FELLOW. 11 
 
 been no other person witliin sight or sound of 
 him. 
 
 Mrs, Errington^ apparently taking it for granted 
 that his attitude was one of profound attention to 
 herself, proceeded flowingly to justify her decision, 
 for it evidently was a decision — to decline the 
 Bristol merchant's offer of employment and a 
 home for her son. Besides Algy^s "genius/' 
 there were other objections. Mr. Filthorpe had 
 a vulgar wife and a vulgar daughter. Of course 
 they must be vulgar. That was clear. And 
 who could say that they might not endeavour 
 to entangle Algy in some promise, or engagement, 
 to marry the daughter ? Nay, it was very certain 
 that they would make such an endeavour. Possibly 
 — probably — that was old Filthorpe's real object in 
 inviting his young relative to accept a place in his 
 counting-house. Indeed, they might confidently 
 consider that it was so. Of course Algy would be 
 a bait to these people ! And as to Lord Seely, Mr. 
 Diamond did not know (how should he ? seeing 
 that he had been little more than a twelvemonth in 
 Whitford, and out of that time had scarcely ever 
 had an hour's converse with her) that she, Mrs. 
 Errington, was a person rather apt to hide and 
 diminish, than unduly blazon forth her family 
 glories. And she was, moreover, scrupulous to a 
 fault in the accuracy of all her statements. Never- 
 theless, she must say that there was, perhaps, no
 
 12 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 nobleman in England wliose patronage would liave 
 more weight tlian his lordship^s; and whether or 
 not the brilliancy of Algy's parts, and the charm 
 of his manners, would be likely to captivate a 
 man of Lord Seely's taste and cultivation; that 
 she left to the sense and candour of any one who 
 knew, and could appreciate her son. 
 
 Mr. Diamond uttered an odd, smothered kind of 
 sound. 
 
 " Eh?'^ said Mrs. Errington, mellifluously. 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 " Hulloa ! " cried a blithe voice, as the door 
 was suddenly thrown open. ''^Why, you're all in 
 the dark here ! " 
 
 " Dear me ! " exclaimed Mr. Diamond, jumping 
 to his feet, and then sitting down again, " I believe 
 — I'm afraid I was almost asleep ! ''
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Algernon Erkington came gaily into tlie dim room 
 "bringing witli him a gust of fresh, cold air. His 
 first act was to stir the fire, which sent up a 
 flickering blaze. The light played upon the tea- 
 table and the two persons who sat at it ; and also, 
 of course, illuminated the new comer's face and 
 form, which were such as to justify much of his 
 mother's pride in his appearance. He was of 
 middle height, with a singularly elegant figure, and 
 finely-shaped hands and feet. His smooth, bloom- 
 ing face was, perhaps, somewhat too girlish-looking, 
 but there was nothing effeminate in his bearing. 
 All his movements were springy nnd elastic. His 
 blue eyes — ^less large, but more bright than his 
 mother's — were full of vivacity, and a smile of 
 mischievous merriment played round his mouth. 
 
 " Mr. Diamond ! " he exclaimed, as soon as he 
 perceived who was the other occupant of the room 
 besides his mother.
 
 14 A CHAB21ING FELLOW. 
 
 "You're late," said the tutor, pulling from iiis 
 waistcoat-pocket a large silver watch, and examining 
 the clumsy black figures on its face by the firelight. 
 
 "Why," said Algernon, "I had no idea you 
 were here ! I thought my mother had sent word to 
 ask you to put off our reading this evening. You 
 promised to write a note, mother. Didn't you send 
 it?" 
 
 It appeared that Mrs. Errington had not sent 
 a note, had not even written one, had forgotten all 
 about it. Her mind was so full of other things ! 
 And then when Mr. Diamond appeared, she did not 
 explain at once that Algernon would probably not 
 come home in time for his lesson, because she 
 wanted to have a little conversation with Mr. 
 Diamond. And they began to talk, and the time 
 slipped away : besides, she knew that Mr. Diamond 
 had nothing to do of an evening, so it was not of 
 much consequence, was it ? 
 
 Algernon winced at this speech, and cast a 
 quick, furtive look at his tutor, who, however, 
 might have been deaf, for any sign he gave of 
 having heard it. He rose from his chair, and 
 addressing Mrs. Errington, declared with his usual 
 brevity that, as no work was to be done^ he must 
 forthwith wish her " Good evening." 
 
 "Now, no nonsense!" said Mrs. Errington. 
 "You'll do nothing of the kind ! Stay and have 
 a cup of tea with us for once in a way."
 
 A CRAEMING FELLOW. 15 
 
 " Thank you, no ; I never — it is not my 
 habit " 
 
 '' Not your habit to be sociable ! I know that ; 
 and it is a great pity. What would you be doing 
 at home ? Only poring over books until you got a 
 headache ! A little cheerful society would do you 
 all the good in the world. You were all but 
 dropping asleep just now : and no wonder ! I'm 
 sure, after teaching all day in a close school, full of 
 boys buzzing like so many blue-bottles, one would 
 feel as stupid as an owl oneself ! " 
 
 " Perhaps I am peculiarly susceptible to stupe- 
 fying influences/' said Mr. Diamond, with a rueful 
 shake of the head. And, as he spoke, there played 
 round his mouth the faint flicker of a smile. 
 
 '^ Now put your hat down, and take your seat ! " 
 cried Mrs. Errington, authoritatively. 
 
 "I am very sorry to seem ungrateful, but " 
 
 " I had asked little Rhoda to come up after tea 
 and keep me company, thinking I should be alone. 
 But you won't mind Rhoda. She knows her place." 
 
 Mr. Diamond paused in the act of buttoning his 
 coat across his breast. " You are very kind," he 
 murmured. 
 
 " There, sit down, and I will undertake to give 
 you a cup of excellent tea. I hope you know good 
 tea when you get it ? There are some people who 
 couldn^t tell my fine Pekoe from sloe-leaves. Algy, 
 bring me the kettle."
 
 16 A CHABMING FELLOW. 
 
 And Mrs. Errington betook lierself to the busi- 
 ness of making tea. To lier it seemed perfectly 
 natural — almost a matter of course — that Mattkew 
 Diamond should stay, since ske was kind enougk to 
 press it. But Algernon, wko knew kis tutor better, 
 could not refrain from expressing a little surprise at 
 kis yielding. 
 
 " Wky, motker," said ke, as ke poured tke 
 boiling water into tke tea-pot, " you may consider 
 yourself singled out for kigk distinction. Mr. 
 Diamond kas consented at your request to stay 
 after kaving said ke would go ! I don't believe 
 tkere's anotker lady in Wkitford wko kas been so 
 konoured." 
 
 If Algernon kad not been peering tkrougk tke 
 clouds of steam, to ascertain wketker tke tea-pot 
 were full or not, ke would kave perceived an un- 
 wonted flusk mount in Mattkew Diamond^s face up 
 to tke roots of kis kair, and tken slowly fade 
 away. 
 
 " And kow did you find tke doctor and all of 
 tkem?^^ asked Mrs. Errington of ker son, wken 
 tkey were all seated at tke tea-table. 
 
 " Ok, tke doctor's all rigkt. He only came in 
 for a few minutes after morning sckool." 
 
 '' Wkat did ke say to you, Algy ? " 
 
 '' Ok, I don't know : sometking about not alto- 
 getker neglecting my studies now I kad left sckool, 
 wkatever patk in life I ckose. He always says tkat
 
 A GHABMING FELLOW. 17 
 
 sort of tiling, you know/' answered Algernon care- 
 lessly. 
 
 "And Mrs. Bodkin?" 
 
 " Oh, she's all right, too." 
 
 " And Minnie ? " 
 
 ''Oh, she's all — no; she was not quite so well 
 as usual, I think. Mrs. Bodkin said she had had 
 a bad attack of pain in the night. But Minnie 
 didn't mention it. She never likes to be condoled 
 wit^ and pitied, you know. So of course I didn't 
 say anything. It's so unpleasant to have to keep 
 noticing people's health ! " 
 
 " Poor thing ! " said Mrs. Errington. " What a 
 misfortune for that girl to be a helpless invalid for 
 the rest of her life ! " 
 
 " Is her disorder incurable ? " asked Mr. 
 Diamond. 
 
 " Oh, quite, I believe. Spine, you know. An 
 accident. And they say that when a child she was 
 such an active creature." 
 
 "Her brain is active enough now," observed 
 Mr. Diamond musingly, with his eyes fixed on the 
 fire. " I don't know a keener, quicker intellect." 
 
 " What, Minnie Bodkin ? " exclaimed Algernon, 
 pausing in the demolition of a stout pile of sliced 
 bread and butter. " I should thiak so ! She's as 
 clever as a man ! I mean," he added, reading and 
 answering his tutor's satirically-raised eyebrows, 
 as rapidly as though he were replying to an arti- 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 culate observation, " I mean — o£ course I know 
 she's a deuced deal cleverer tlian lots of men. But 
 I mean that Minnie Bodkin is clever after a manly 
 fashion. Not a bit Missish. By Jove ! I wish I 
 knew as much Greek as she does ! " 
 
 " I do not at all approve of blue-stockings in 
 general/' said Mrs. Errington ; " but in her case, 
 poor thing, one must make allowances." 
 
 " I think she's pretty," announced Algernon, 
 condescendingly. 
 
 " She would be if she didn't look so sickly. 
 No complexion," said Mrs. Errington, intently 
 observing her own florid face, unnaturally elongated, 
 in the bowl of a spoon. 
 
 " Don't you think her pretty, sir ? " asked 
 Algernon, turning to Mr. Diamond. 
 
 " A great deal more than pretty." 
 
 " You don't go there very often, I think ? " said 
 Mrs. Errington interrogatively. 
 
 "No, madam." 
 
 " Well, now, you really ought. I know you 
 would be welcome. The doctor has more than once 
 told me so. And Mrs. Bodkin is so very affable ! 
 I'm sure you need not hesitate about going 
 there." 
 
 Algernon jumped up to replenish the tea-pot, 
 with an unnecessary amount of bustle, and began to 
 rattle out a volley of lively nonsense, with the view 
 of diverting his mother's attention from the subject
 
 A CEARMING FELLOW. 19 
 
 of Mr. Diamond's neglect of tlie Bodkin family. 
 He dreaded some rejoinder on tlie part of tlie tutor 
 whicli sliould offend Ms motlier beyond forgiveness. 
 He liad had experience of some of Mattliew 
 Diamond's blunt speeclies, of wliicli Dr. Bodkin 
 himself was supposed to be in some awe. It was 
 clearly no business of Mrs. Errington's where Mr. 
 Diamond chose to bestow his visits ; neither could 
 she in any degree be aware what reasons he might 
 have for his conduct. " And the worst of it is, he's 
 quite capable of telling my mother so, if she goes 
 too far," reflected Algernon. So he chatted and 
 laughed, as if from overflowing good spirits, until 
 the peril was past. This young gentleman was so 
 quick and flexible, and had so buoyant a tempera- 
 ment, that he was reputed more careless and 
 thoughtless than was altogether the case. His 
 mind moved rapidly, and he had an instinctive 
 habit of uttering the result of its calculations, in 
 the most impulsive way imaginable. You could 
 not tell, by observing Algernon's manner, whether 
 he were giving you his first thought or his second. 
 
 "When the meal was over, Mrs. Errington rang 
 to have the table cleared. A little prim servant- 
 maid, in a coarse, clean apron and bib, appeared at 
 the sound of the bell, and began to gather the tea- 
 things together. Algernon sat down at the old 
 harpsichord, and, after playing a few chords, com- 
 menced singing softly in a pleasant tenor voice
 
 20 A CEABMIMG FELLOW. 
 
 some fragments of sentimental ballads in vogue at 
 that day. (Does tlie reader ask, " and when was 
 'that day?'^' He must content himself with the 
 information that it was within a year or two of the 
 year 1830.) Mr. Diamond walked to the window, 
 and holding aside the blind, stood looking out at 
 the dark sky. 
 
 All at once, when the servant opened the door 
 to go out, there came up from the lower part of the 
 house the sound of singing; slow, long-drawn, 
 rather tuneless singing of a few voices, male and 
 female. 
 
 " Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Errington, " Oh dear me, Sarah, how is this ? " 
 
 Algernon made a comical face of disgust, and 
 put his hands to his ears. 
 
 " It be as Mr. PowelFs ha' come back, mum,'' 
 said Sarah, with much gravity. 
 
 " Really ! Eeally ! " said Mrs. Errington, in the 
 tone of one protesting against an utterly unjusti- 
 fiable offence. 
 
 " Come back ! Where has he been ? " asked 
 Algernon, carelessly. 
 
 " On 'is rounds, please, sir." 
 
 " I do wish Mr. Powell would choose some other 
 time for his performances ! " cried Mrs. Errington, 
 when the servant had left the room. " Now Thm's- 
 day — on Thursday, for instance, we are going to a 
 whist party, at the Bodkins', and then he might
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 21 
 
 squall out his psalms, and shout, and rave, without 
 annoying anybody/^ 
 
 " He'd only annoy the neighbours," said Al- 
 gernon, " and that wouldn't matter ! " 
 
 He was smiling with a sort of contemptuous 
 amusement, and touching random notes here and 
 there on the harpsichord with one finger. 
 
 " There will be no getting Rhoda upstairs to- 
 night," said Mrs. Errington. " Poor little thing ! 
 she's in for a whole evening of psalm-singing." 
 
 Algernon rose from the instrument with a 
 clouded brow. His face wore the petulant look 
 of a spoiled child, whose will has been unexpectedly 
 crossed. 
 
 " Deuce take Mr. Powell, and all Welsh Metho- 
 dists Hke him ! " said he. 
 
 " My dear Algy ! No, no ; I cannot approve 
 of that, though Mr. Powell is a Dissenter. Besides, 
 such language in my presence is not respect- 
 ful." 
 
 " Beg pardon, ma^am," said Algernon, laugh- 
 ing. And with the laughter, the cloud cleared 
 from his brow. Clouds never rested there long. 
 
 '^ Will you have a game of cribbage with me, 
 Mr. Diamond? This naughty boy will scarcely 
 ever play with me. Or, if you prefer it, dummy 
 whist ? " 
 
 " No whist for me," interposed Algernon, de- 
 cisively. "It is such a botheration. And I play
 
 22 A CEABMING FELLOW. 
 
 so atrociously that it would be cruel to ask Mr. 
 Diamond to sit down with m.e." 
 
 With that he returned to the harpsichord, and 
 began singing softly to himself in snatches. 
 
 " Cribbage then ? " said Mrs. Errington in her 
 mellow, measured tones. 
 
 Mr. Diamond let fall the blind from his hand so 
 roughly that the wooden roller rattled against 
 the wainscot, and advanced to the table where Mrs. 
 Errington was already setting forth the cards and 
 cribbage-board. He sat down without a word, cut 
 the cards as she directed, shufSed, dealt, and played 
 in a moody sort of silent manner ; which, however, 
 did not affect Mrs. Errington's nerves at all. 
 
 Meanwhile, there went on beneath Algernon's 
 love-songs and the few utterances of the players 
 which the game necessitated, a kind of accompany- 
 ing " bom'don" of voices from downstairs. Some- 
 times one single voice would rise in passionate 
 tones, almost as if in wrath. Then came singing 
 again, which, softened by distance, had a wild, 
 wailing character of ineffable melancholy. Algernon 
 paused in his fitful playing and singing, as though 
 unwilling to be in dissonance with those long- 
 drawn sounds. Mrs. Errington calmly continued 
 to exclaim, " Fifteen six,^' and " two for his heels," 
 without regard to anything but her game. 
 
 When the rubber was at an end, Mr. Diamond 
 rose to take his leave.
 
 A CR ARMING FELLOW. 23 
 
 He lingered a little in doing so. He lingered 
 in taking up his hatj and in buttoning liis coat 
 across liis breast. 
 
 " Have you not anything warmer to put on ? " 
 said Mrs. Errington. " Dear me, it is very wrong 
 to go out of this snug room into the air — and the 
 wind has got up, too ! — with no more wrap than 
 you have been sitting in, here by the fire ! Algy, 
 lend him your great-coat." 
 
 " Thank you, no. Good night," said the tutor, 
 and walked off without further ceremony. 
 
 He still Hngered, however, in descending the 
 stairs ; and yet more in passing the door of a 
 parlour, whence came a murmur of voices. 
 Finally, he let himself out at the street-door, 
 and encountering a bleak gust of wind, set off 
 down the silent street at a round pace. 
 
 "What a fool you are, Matthew!" was his 
 mental ejaculation, as he strode along with his 
 head bent down, and his gloveless hands plunged 
 deep into his pockets.
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 Mes. Ekeington had lodged in Mr. Maxfield's 
 house ever since she first came to Whitford. 
 Jonathan Maxfield, commonly called " Old Max/^ 
 kept a general shop in that town. The shop was 
 underneath Mrs. Errington^s sitting-room, and 
 the great bow window, of which mention has been 
 made, jutted out beyond the shop front, and over- 
 hung the street. The house was old, and larger 
 than it appeared from the street, running back 
 some distance. There was a private entrance — a 
 point much insisted upon by Mr. Maxfield's sister- 
 in-law and housekeeper in letting the lodgings to 
 Mrs. Errington — and a long passage divided the 
 shop entirely from the dwelling rooms on the 
 ground-floor. 
 
 Old Max was reported to be somewhat of a 
 miser (which report he rather encouraged than 
 the reverse, finding that it had its conveniences), 
 and to have amassed a large sum of money for 
 one in his position in life.
 
 A CHABIIING FELLOW. 25 
 
 " Old Max ! " Wliitford people would say. 
 " Why, old Max could buy up lialf the town. 
 Old Max might retire to-morrow. Old Max has 
 no need ever to stand behind a counter again.'^ 
 
 Old Max, however, continued to stand behind 
 his counter day after day, as he had done for the 
 last thirty or forty years, and would serve a child 
 with a pennyworth of gingerbread, or a rich man's 
 co6k with stores of bacon and flour, in an im- 
 partially crabbed manner. 
 
 He was a grey man : grey from head to foot. 
 He had grey hair, closely cropped ; twinkling grey 
 eyes ; and a gi'ey stubble on his shaven chin. He 
 usually wore a suit of coarse grey clothes, with 
 black calico sleeves tied on at the elbow. But even 
 these had an iron-grey hue, from being more or 
 less dusted with flour; as, indeed, were all his 
 garments, and even his face. 
 
 When Mrs. Errington first came to live in 
 Whitford, Jonathan Maxfield was a widower for 
 the second time. He had two sons by his first 
 wife; and, by his second, one daughter, whose 
 birth cost her mother's life. The sister of his first 
 wife had kept house for him ever since his second 
 widowhood. This woman, Betty Grimshaw by 
 name, had been servant in a great family ; and at 
 her master's death had received a legacy, which, 
 together with her own savings, had sufficed to 
 purchase a small annuity. She had been able to
 
 26 A C HARMING FELLOW. 
 
 lay by the greater part of lier annuity since slie 
 had lived in Whitford, and announced her intention 
 of bequeathing her savings to her nephew James, 
 Maxfield^s second son. The elder son had married 
 a farmer's daughter with some money, and turned 
 farmer himself within a few miles of Whitford. 
 Thus the family living at home on the autumn night 
 on which our story opens, consisted of Jonathan 
 Maxfield, Betty Grimshaw his sister-in-law, his son 
 James, and his daughter Rhoda. 
 
 The sound of the street-door closing violently 
 behind Mr. Diamond, startled this family party 
 assembled in the parlour, together with Mr. David 
 Powell, Methodist preacher. 
 
 They were all seated at a table, on which lay 
 hymn-books and a large bible. Old Maxfield sat 
 nearest to the fire, in his grey suit, just as he 
 appeared in his shop, except that the black calico 
 sleeves had been removed from his coat. He had a 
 harsh face, a harsh voice, and a harsh manner. So 
 much could be observed by any who exchanged ten 
 words with him. 
 
 Next to him, on his left hand, sat his sou 
 James, a tall, sickly-looking young man, of six- 
 and-twenty. He had a stoop in the shoulders, a 
 pale face, with high cheek-bones, eyes deeply set, 
 light eyebrows, which grew in thick irregular tufts, 
 and hair of a reddish flaxen colour. There was 
 a certain family likeness between him and his aunt.
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 27 
 
 Mrs. Grimsliaw, as she was called iu Whitford, 
 despite her spinsterhood. She too was tall, bony, 
 and hard-featured ; with a face which looked as if 
 it had been painted and vai-nished, and reminded 
 one, in its coloui' and texture, of those hollow 
 wooden pears, full of tiny playthings, which used to 
 be — and probably still are — sold at country fairs, 
 and in toy-shops of a humble kind. 
 
 The preacher sat next to Betty Grimshaw. He 
 seemed to belong to a different order of beings 
 from the three persons already described. 
 
 A striking face this — dark, and full of fire. 
 He had sharply-cut, handsome features, and eyes 
 that seemed to blaze with inward light when he 
 spoke earnestly. His raven-black hair was worn 
 long, and fell straight on to his collar. But 
 although this made his aspect strange, it could not 
 render it either vulgar or ludicrous. The black 
 locks set off his pale dark face, as in a frame of 
 ebony. He was young, and seemed vigorous, 
 though rather with nervous energy than muscular 
 strength. 
 
 The last person in the group was Ehoda Max- 
 field — "little Rhoda," as Mrs. Errington had called 
 her. But the epithet had been used to express 
 rather her social insignificance, than her physical 
 proportions. Rhoda was, in fact, rather tall. She 
 was about nineteen years old, but scarcely looked 
 her age. She had a broad and beautiful brow, on
 
 28 A CH ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 which, the rich chestnut hair was smoothly parted * 
 a sensitive mouth, not over-small ; and bright hazel 
 eyes, which looked out on the world with an open, 
 gaze, that was at once timid and confiding. Her 
 skin was of remarkable delicacy, with a faint flush 
 on the cheeks, which came and went frequently. 
 
 And yet Rhoda Maxfield was not much admired 
 among her own compeers. There was something 
 in her face which did not please the taste 
 of the vulgar. And although, if you had asked 
 Whitford persons '' Is not Rhoda Maxfield wonder- 
 fully pretty ? " most of those so addressed would 
 have answered, " Yes, Rhoda is a pretty girl ; " yet 
 the assent would probably have been cold and 
 uncertain. 
 
 Ehoda, at nineteen years old, had never been 
 known to have a sweetheart. And this fact 
 militated against the popular appreciation of her 
 beauty ; for a very cursory observation of the world 
 will suffice to show that on the score of good looks, 
 as on most other subjects, public opinion is apt 
 to find nothing successful but success. 
 
 " What a wind there must be, to make the door 
 bang like that ! '* exclaimed Betty Grimshaw, when 
 the loud sound above recorded reached her ears. 
 
 " Who went out ? " asked James. 
 
 " I suppose it would be that Mr. Diamond, the 
 schoolmaster," replied his aunt. 
 
 They both spoke in a subdued voice, and cast
 
 A CEABMING FELLOW. 29 
 
 furtive glances at Mr, Maxfield, as tliougli fearful 
 of being reprehended for interrupting tlie evening 
 devotions ; but, as they spoke, lie closed bis bymn- 
 book, and drew his chair away from the table 
 towards the fireside. Upon this signal, Betty 
 Grimshaw rose and bustled out of the room, 
 declaring that she must see about getting the 
 supper ; for that that little Sarah could never be 
 trusted to see to the roasted potatoes alone. There 
 was a suspicious alacrity in Betty's departure, 
 suggestive that she experienced some sense of relief 
 at the breaking-up of the devotions. James soon 
 sauntered out of the room after his aunt. Mr. 
 Powell rose. 
 
 " Good night," said he, holding out his hand to 
 the old man. 
 
 " Nay ; won't you stay and eat with us. Brother 
 Powell ? The supper will be ready directly." 
 
 Mr. Powell shook his head. '^You know I 
 never eat supper," he said, smiling. 
 
 " Well, well ; perhaps you're in the right," 
 responded old Max, very readily. 
 
 " And I am not clear," continued the preacher, 
 "but that it would be better for you to leave off 
 the habit." 
 
 "Me? Oh, no! I need it for my health's 
 sake." 
 
 " But would it not suit your health better, to 
 take your supper early ? Say at six o'clock or so ;
 
 30 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 so that you sliould not go to bed witli a full 
 stomacli." 
 
 "No; it -wouldn't," answered tlie old man, 
 crabbedly. 
 
 David Powell stood meditating, with bis band to 
 bis cbin. " I am not clear about it,'' be mur- 
 mured. But Maxfield eitber did not bear, or cbose 
 to ignore tbe words. 
 
 "Fatber, may I go upstairs to Mrs. Errington?" 
 asked Rboda, softly ; " I don't want any supper.'^ 
 
 Tbe old man grunted out an inarticulate sound, 
 and seemed to besitate. '' Go upstairs to Mrs. 
 Errington ? " be said, answering bis daughter, but 
 looking sideways at tbe preacber. " Let's see ; you 
 promised, didn't you ? " 
 
 " Yes ; you gave me leave, and I promised 
 before— before we knew tbat Mr. Powell would 
 come to-nigbt." 
 
 Rboda was gifted witb a sweet voice by nature, 
 and sbe spoke witb a purer accent, and expressed 
 berself witb greater propriety, tban tbe otber 
 members of ber family. Mrs. Errington bad 
 amused berself witb teaching tbe motherless g\v\, 
 who bad been a lonely, shy, little child when their 
 acquaintance first began. And Rboda was a quick 
 and apt scholar. 
 
 " Well — a promise — I can't have you break 
 your word. Don't you stay late, mind. Not one 
 minute after ten o'clock ; do you mind, Rboda ? 
 
 )}
 
 A CHABMING FELLOW. 31 
 
 Rhoda, with a bright smile of pleasure on her 
 face, promised to obey, and left the room with a 
 step which it cost her an effort to make as staid as 
 she knew would be approved by her father and 
 Mr. Powell. When she got outside the door, they 
 heard her run along the passage as light and as 
 swift as a greyhound. 
 
 Maxfield turned to Mr. Powell, with a little 
 constrained, apologetic air, and began expatiating 
 on Mrs. Errington^s fondness for Rhoda; and 
 how kind she had always been to the girl; and 
 how he thought it a duty almost, to let the good, 
 widowed lady have as much of Rhoda^s company 
 as she could give her without neglecting duties. 
 
 " Betty Grimshaw is a worthy woman," he 
 observed, drily ; " but no companion for my Rhoda. 
 Rhoda features her mother, and has her mother\s 
 nature very much." 
 
 Mr. Powell still stood in the same meditative 
 attitude, with his hand to his chin. 
 
 "This Mrs. Errington is unconverted ? " he said, 
 without raising his eyes. 
 
 " Oh, Rhoda won't take much harm from 
 that!" 
 
 "Much harm?" The dark lustrous eyes were 
 upraised now, and fixed searchingly on the old 
 man. 
 
 " Well, it won't do her any harm," the latter 
 answered, testily. "I know Rhoda; and I have
 
 32 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 her welfare at heart, as, I suppose, you^ll believe. 
 I don^t know who should have, if it isn^t me ! " 
 
 ^'Brother Maxfield,^^ said the preacher, earnestly, 
 '' are you sure that you have a clear leading in this 
 matter ? Have you prayed for one ? " 
 
 Maxfield shifted in his chair, and made no 
 answer. 
 
 *' Oh, consider what you do in trusting that 
 tender soul among worldhngs ! I do not say that 
 these are wicked people in a carnal sense ; but are 
 they such as can edify or strengthen a young girl 
 like Rhoda, who is still in a seeking state, and has 
 not yet that blessed assurance which we all suppli- 
 cate for her ? " 
 
 " I have laid the matter before the Lord,^' said 
 Maxfield, almost sullenly. 
 
 Powell was silent for a minute, standing with 
 his hands forcibly clasped together, as though to 
 •control them from vehement action, and when next 
 he spoke, his voice had a tone in it which told of a 
 strong effort of will to keep it in subdued 
 monotony. 
 
 "Then, have you thought of it ? ^' said he; 
 " there is the young man Algernon." 
 
 " What of Algernon ? " cried Maxfield, turning 
 sharply to face the preacher. 
 
 " He is fair to look upon, and specious, and has 
 those graces and talents which the world accounts 
 lovely. May there not be a snare here for Rhoda ?
 
 A GRAEMING FELLOW. 33 
 
 She who is so alive to all beauty and graciousness in 
 
 Grod^s world, and in God's creatures — may it not 
 
 be very perilous for her to be thrown unguardedly 
 
 into the society of this youth ? " 
 
 Maxfield looked into the fire instead of at 
 
 Powell, as he said, " What has been putting this 
 
 into your head ? " 
 
 " I have had a call to say it to you, for some 
 
 time past. Before I went away this summer it was 
 on my mind. I sinned in resisting the call, for — 
 for reasons which matter to no one but myself. I 
 sinned in putting any human reasons above my 
 Master's service.'^ 
 
 " It may be as you would have done better to 
 resist speaking now," said Maxfield, slowly. " It 
 may be as it was rather a temptation, than a leading 
 from Heaven, made you speak at all." 
 
 Powell started back as if he had been struck. 
 The blood rushed into his face, and then, suddenly 
 receding, left him paler than before. But he 
 answered after a moment in a low, sweet voice,, 
 and without a trace of anger, '^You cannot mis- 
 trust me more than I mistrusted myself. But I 
 have wrestled and prayed ; and I am assured that 
 I have spoken this thing with a single heart." 
 
 " Well, well, weU, it may be as you say," said 
 Maxfield, a shade less harshly than he had spoken 
 before. " But you have neither wife, nor daughter, 
 nor sister, and you cannot understand these mat- 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 A CE ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 ters as well as I do, wlio am more tlian double 
 your years, aud have liad the guidance of this 
 young maid from a baby upward." 
 
 "Nay," answered Powell, humbly; "it is not 
 my own wisdom I am uttering ! God forbid that 
 I should set up my carnal judgment against a 
 man of your years." 
 
 " That's very well said — very rightly said ! " 
 exclaimed Maxfield, nodding twice or thrice. 
 
 "Aye, but I must speak when my conscience 
 bids me. I dare not resist that admonition for 
 any human respect." 
 
 " Why, to be sure ! But do you think yours 
 is the only conscience to be listened to ? I tell 
 you I follow mine, young man. And you can ask 
 any of our brethren here in Whitford, who have 
 known me for the last thirty or forty years, 
 whether I have gone far astray ! " 
 
 Powell sighed wearily. " I have released my 
 soul," he said. 
 
 "And just hearken," pursued old Maxfield, in 
 a lowered voice, " don't say a word of this sort to 
 Rhoda — ^nay, don't interrupt me ! I've listened to 
 your say, now let me have mine — because you 
 might be putting something into her thoughts 
 that wouldn't have come there of itself. And 
 keep a discreet tongue before Betty and James. 
 'Least said, soonest mended.' And I'll tell you 
 something more. If — observe I say ' if ' — I saw
 
 A CEABMING FELLOW. 35 
 
 that Rlioda^s lieart was strongly set upon any- 
 thing, anything as wasn^t wrong in itself, I should 
 be very loath to thwart her." 
 
 David Powell turned a startled, attentive face 
 on the old man, who proceeded with a sort of 
 dogged monotony of voice and manner : " Christian 
 charity teaches us there's good folks in all com- 
 munions of believers. And there's different ranks 
 and different orders in the world; some has one 
 thing, and some has another. Some has fine 
 family and great connections among the rulers of 
 the land. Others has the goods of this world 
 earned by honesty, and diligence, and frugality; 
 and these three bring a blessing. Some is fitted 
 to be gentlefolks by nature, let 'em be born where 
 they will. Others, like my sister-in-law Betty, is 
 born to serve. We are all the Lord's creatures, 
 and we are in his hand but as clay in the hands 
 of the potter. But there's different kinds of clay, 
 you know. This kind is good for making coarse 
 delf, and that kind is fit for fine porcelain. We'll 
 just keep these words as have passed between you 
 and me, to ourselves, if you please. And now, I 
 I think, we may drop the subject." 
 
 " May the Lord give you his counsel ! " said 
 Powell, in a broken voice. 
 
 " Amen ! I have had my share of wisdom, and 
 have walked pretty straight for the last half century, 
 thanks be to Him," observed old Max, drily.
 
 36 A GH ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 " If it were His good pleasure, how gladly 
 would I cease for evermore from speaking to you 
 on tliis theme ! But it matters nothing what I 
 desire or shrink from. I must deliver my Master's 
 message when it is borne in upon me to do so/' 
 
 And with a solemnly uttered blessing on the 
 household^ the preacher departed. 
 
 The master of the house sat thinking, alone by 
 his fireside. He began by thinking that he had a 
 little over-encouraged David Powell. Maxfield 
 considered praise from himself to be very encour- 
 aging, and calculated to uplift the heart. When 
 Powell had first come among the Whitf ord Method- 
 ists, old Max had taken him by the hand, and had 
 declared him to be the most awakening preacher 
 they had had for many years. He was never tired 
 of vaunting Powell's zeal, and diligence, and 
 eloquence. Backshders were brought again into 
 the right way, sinners were awakened, believers 
 were refreshed, under his ministry. The fame of 
 Powell's preaching drew many unwonted audittjrs 
 to the little chapel; and or those who came at first 
 merely from curiosity, many were moved by his 
 words to join the Wesleyan Connection. On all 
 this Jonathan Maxwell looked with great satis- 
 faction. The young man had been truly a burning 
 and a shining light. 
 
 But now — might it not be that the preacher's 
 heart had become puffed up with spiritual pride ?
 
 A CHABIillXG FELLOW. 37 
 
 Was he not unduly exalting himself, when he 
 assumed a tone of censorship towards such a pillar 
 of the community as Jonathan Maxfield ? The old 
 man had been for many years accustomed to much 
 deference, alike from preachers and congregation. 
 The exhortations and admonitions which were 
 doubless needful for his neighbours, were entirely 
 out of place when addressed to himself. His piety 
 and probity were established on a rock. And the 
 Lord had, moreover, seen fit to gift him with so 
 large a share of the wisdom of the serpent, as had 
 enabled him to hold his own, and to thrive in the 
 midst of worldlings. A dull fire of indignation 
 against David Powell began to smoulder in the 
 old man's heart, as he pondered these things. 
 
 Other thoughts, too, more or less disquieting, 
 passed through his brain. He thought of Rhoda's 
 mother — of that second wife whom he, a man past 
 middle-life, had married for her fair young face and 
 gentle ways, much to Betty Grimshaw's disgust, 
 and the surprise of most people. He looked back 
 on the long, dusty, dreary road of his life ; and, in 
 the whole landscape, the only spot on which the 
 sun seemed to shine was that brief year of his 
 second marriage. Not that he had been, or that 
 he now was, an unhappy man. His life had satis- 
 factions in it of a sober, sombre kind. He did not 
 grow, soft or sentimental in reviewing the past. 
 He was accustomed to the chill, grey atmosphere
 
 A CHABMING FELLOW. 
 
 in wliicli lie lived. But lie liad felt warm sunlisrlit 
 
 O 
 
 once, and remembered it. And lie liad a notion — 
 inarticulate, indeed, and vague — that E.lioda needed 
 more light and warmth in her life than was neces- 
 sary for his own existence, or for James's, or Betty 
 Grimshaw's, or, in fact, for most people's. There 
 was no amount of hardness he could not be guilty 
 of to " most people," and, indeed, he was hard 
 enough to himself ; but for Khoda there was a soft 
 place in his heart. 
 
 Nevertheless, there were many hopes, fears, 
 speculations, and reflections connected with Rhoda 
 just now, which had anything but a softening effect 
 on Mr. Maxfield's demeanour; insomuch that Betty 
 and James, coming in presently to supper, found 
 the head of the family in so crabbed a temper, that 
 they were glad to hurry through the meal in silence,. 
 and slink off to bed.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Mention lias been made of a wliist-party at Dr. 
 Bodkin's, to wliicli Mrs. Errington announced lier 
 intention of going. It took place on tlie Thursday 
 after tliat evening on wliicli Mrs. Errington was 
 first introduced to tke reader : that is to say, on tke 
 second night following. 
 
 ^Vhiist-parties were almost the only social enter- 
 tainment ever given amongst the genteel persons in 
 Whitford. The Rev. Cyrus Bodkin, D.D., liked 
 his rubber; so did Robert Smith, Esq., M.R.C.S., 
 and Mr. Dockett, the attorney, and Miss Chubb, 
 and one or two more cronies, who were frequently 
 seen at the doctor's green card-tables. 
 
 The Bodkins lived in a gloomy stone house 
 adjoining the grammar-school, of which, indeed, 
 it formed part. The house was approached by a 
 gravelled courtyard, surrounded by high stone 
 walls. The garden at the back ran sloping down 
 to a broad green meadow, which in turn was
 
 40 A CE ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 bounded by the little river Whit, all overhung with 
 willows, and covered by a floating mass of broad 
 water-lily leaves, just opposite the doctor^s garden 
 gate. 
 
 In the full summer time, the view from the 
 back of the house was pretty and pastoral enough. 
 But in autumn and winter the meadow was a 
 swamp, whose vivid green looked poisonous — as 
 indeed it was, exhaling ague and rheumatism from 
 its plashy surface — and a white brooding mist 
 trailed itself, morning and evening, along the 
 sluggish Whit, like a fallen cloud, condemned by 
 some angry prince of the air to crawl serpent-like 
 on earth, instead of soarmg and sailing in the 
 empyrean. 
 
 Such fancies never came into Doctor Bodkin's 
 head, however, nor into his wife's either — good, 
 anxious, unselfish, sad, little woman ! Into his 
 daughter Minnie's brain all sorts of wild, fantastic 
 notions would intrude as she lay on her sofa, 
 looking out upon the garden, and the river, and the 
 meadow, and the gnarled old willows, and the 
 flying scud in the sky; but she very seldom spoke 
 of her fancies to any one. She spoke of other 
 matters, though, freely enough. She had many 
 visitors, who came and sat around her couch, or 
 beside the lounging-chair, on which, on her good 
 days, she reclined. She was better acquainted 
 with the news of Whitford than most of the people
 
 A CHAE2imG FELLOW. 41 
 
 who could use their limbs to go abroad and see 
 what was passing. She was interested in the 
 progress of the boys at the grammar-school, 
 and knew the names, and a good deal about 
 the characters, of every one of them. She 
 would chat, and laugh, and joke by the hour 
 with the frequenters of her father's house; but 
 of herself — of her own thoughts, feelings, and 
 fancies — Minnie Bodkin said no word to them. 
 Nor did she, in truth, ever speak much on that 
 subject all her life. And there were days — ^black 
 days in the calendar of her poor anxious little 
 mother — when Minnie would remain shut into her 
 room, refusing to see or speak with anyone, and 
 suffering much pain of body, with a proud stoicism 
 which rejected sympathy like a wall of granite. 
 
 There is no suggestion of granite about her 
 now, however, as she lies, propped up by crimson 
 cushions, on a sofa in her father's drawing-room. 
 The room is bright and warm, despite the white 
 kraken of mist that is coiled around the outer walls 
 of the house. Wax-lights shine in tall, old- 
 fashioned silver candlesticks on the mantelpiece, 
 and on the centre table, and on a pianoforte, beside 
 which stands a canterbury full of music-books. A 
 great fire blazes in the grate, and makes its im- 
 mediate neighbourhood too hot for the comfort of 
 most people. But Minnie is apt to be chilly, and 
 loves the heat. Some delicate ferns and hothouse
 
 42 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 plants adorn a stand between tlie windows. They 
 are rather a rare luxury in Whitford ; but Minnie 
 loves flowers^ and always lias some choice ones 
 about her. A still rarer luxury hangs on the wall 
 opposite to her sofa, in the shape of a very fine 
 copy — on a reduced scale — of Raphael's Madonna 
 di San Sisto. Minnie had fallen in love with a 
 print from that famous picture long ago, and the 
 copy was procured for her at considerable pains 
 and expense. The furniture of the room is of 
 crimson and dark oak. Minnie delisrhts in rich 
 colours and picturesque combinations. In a word, 
 there is not an inch of the apartment, from floor 
 to ceiling, in the arrangement of which Minnie's 
 tastes have not been consulted, and in which traces 
 of Minnie's influence are not plainly to be seen by 
 those who know that household. 
 
 Minnie has a face, which, if you saw it repre- 
 sented in time-darkened oil colours, and framed on 
 the walls of a picture-gallery, you would pronounce 
 strikingly beautiful. Such faces are sometimes 
 seen in flesh and blood, and, strange to say, do by 
 no means excite the same enthusiasm in ordinary 
 beholders, who, for the most part, like the pictur- 
 esque in a picture and nowhere else; and who, to 
 paraphrase what was said of Voltaire's intellect, 
 admire chiefly those women who have, more than 
 other young ladies, the prettiness which all young 
 ladies have.
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 43 
 
 Minnie's face is pale and rather sallow. Her 
 skin is not transparent, but fine in texture, like fine 
 vellum, and it seldom changes its hue from emotion. 
 Wlien it does, it grows dark-red or deadly-wliite. 
 Pleasing blushes or pallors are never seen on it. 
 She has dark, thick hair, worn short, and brushed 
 away from a high, smooth, rounded forehead, in 
 which shine a pair of bright brown eyes, under 
 finely-arched eyebrows. But the beauty of the face 
 lies in the perfection of its outlines : brow, cheeks, 
 and chin are alike delicately moulded ; her mouth 
 — although the lips are too pale — is almost faultless, 
 as are the white, small teeth she shows when she 
 smiles. There is an indefinable air of sickness and 
 suffering over this beautiful face, and dark traces 
 beneath the eyes, and a pathetic, weary look in 
 them sometimes; but, when she speaks or smiles, 
 you forget all that. 
 
 There are people in this world whose intellects 
 remind one of lamps too scantily supplied with oil. 
 The little feeble flame in them burns and flickers, 
 certainly, but it is but a dull sort of dead light 
 after all. Now Minnie Bodkin's spirit-lamp, if the 
 phrase may be permitted, illumined everything it 
 shone upon, and there were some persons who 
 found it a great deal too dazzling to be pleasant. 
 
 It is not at all too bright at this moment for 
 Algernon Errington, who, seated close beside her 
 couch, is giving her, sotto voce, a humorous imita-
 
 44 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 tion of tlie psalm -singing iu old Max's parlour . 
 and describing, witli great relish, his mother's 
 cool suggestion that the family prayers should 
 "be put off until she should be absent at a whist- 
 party. 
 
 "Poor dear mother/' says Algernon, smiling, 
 " she can't forget that she is an Ancram ; and 
 sometimes comes out with one of her grande dame 
 speeches, as if she were addressing my grand- 
 father's Warwickshire tenantry forty years ago ! " 
 At which simple, candid words Minnie shoots out a 
 queer, keen glance at the young fellow from under 
 her eyelids. 
 
 " And the Methodist preacher — what is he 
 like ? " she asks. " Whitf ord is, or was, a little 
 inclined to go crazed about him. I don't know 
 whether the enthusiasm is burning itself out, as 
 such fires of straw will do, but a few weeks ago I 
 heard that the little Wesleyan chapel was crowded 
 to overflowing whenever he preached; and that 
 once or twice, when he addressed the people out of 
 doors on Whit Meadow, there was such a multitude 
 as never was seen there before. I was quite curious 
 to see the man who could so move our sluggish 
 Whitfordians." 
 
 Algernon had taken up a sheet of note-paper and 
 a pen from Minnie's letter- writing table, whilst she 
 was speaking. "Look here," he says, "here's the 
 preacher ! " And he holds out the paper on which
 
 A GE ARMING FELLOW. 45 
 
 lie lias drawu^ with a few rapid strokes, a caricature 
 of David Powell. 
 
 Minnie looks at it witli raised eyebrows, 
 
 " Oh/' says she_, " is he like that ? I am disap- 
 pointed. This is the common, conventional, long- 
 haii'ed Methodist, that one sees in every comic 
 print,"" 
 
 And in truth Algernon's portrait is not a good 
 likeness, even for a caricature. He had di'awn a 
 lank, hook-nosed man, with long, black hair, 
 expressed by two blots of ink falling on either side 
 of his face. 
 
 " He wears his hair just like that ! " says Algy, 
 contemplating his own work with a good deal of 
 satisfaction. 
 
 The card playing has not yet begun. Mrs. 
 Bodkin, small, thin, with a questioning, sharp, 
 little nose, and a chin which narrows off too 
 suddenly, and an odd resemblance altogether to a 
 little melancholy fox, is presiding at a tea-table. 
 Besides tea and coffee, it is furnished with sub- 
 stantial cakes of many various kinds. Whitford 
 people, for the most part, dine early, so that they 
 are ready for soHd food again by about eight 
 o'clock ; and will, probably, sustain nature once 
 more with sandwiches and mulled wiae before they 
 sleep. 
 
 It is not a large party. There is Mrs, Errington, 
 majestic in a dyed silk, and a real lace cap, the
 
 46 A CHABMINO FELLOW. 
 
 latter a relic of tlie '^^ better days" slie is fond of 
 reverting to j Miss Cliubb, a stout spinster, with, a 
 languisliing fat face as round as a full moon, and 
 little rings of liair gummed down all over ber 
 forebead, and balf-way down ber plump cbeeks ; 
 Mr. Smitb, tbe surgeon, black-eyed, red-faced, and 
 smibng ; tbe Rev. Peter Warlock, curate of St. 
 Cbad^s, a serious, gboul-like young man, wbo rends 
 great bits out of bis muffin witb bis teetb, in a way 
 to make you sbudder if you bappen to be nervous 
 or fanciful ; Mr. Dockett, tbe attorney, and bis wife, 
 eacb dressed in black, eacb witb a buge double 
 cbin and smotbered voice, and altogetber comically 
 like one anotber. 
 
 On tbe beartb-rug, witb bis back to tbe fire, and 
 bis coffee-cup in bis band, stands Dr. Bodkin. 
 He is sbort and tbick. He bas an air of command. 
 He looks at tbe world in general as if it were liable 
 to an " imposition " of ever so many bundred lines 
 of Latin poetry, and as if be were ready to enforce 
 tbe penalty at brief notice. He is not a bard man 
 at beart, but nature bas made bim conceited, and 
 babit bas made bim a tyrant. Tbe boys kotoo to 
 bim in tbe scbool, and bis wife bends submissively 
 to bis will at bome. Tbere is only one person in 
 tbe world wbo babitually opposes and sets aside bis 
 assumption of infallibility, and tbat person — bis 
 daugbter Minnie — be loves and fears. He tramples 
 on most otber people, in tbe firm persuasion tbat it
 
 A CEAE2LING FELLOW. 47 
 
 is for their good. He is bald, large-faced, with a 
 long upper-lip, wliicli lie shoots out into a funnel 
 shape when he talks. He is an honest man in his 
 calling, has a fair share of routine learning, and 
 imparts it laboriously to the boys under his 
 tuition. 
 
 Presently the people seem to slacken in eating 
 and drinking. " Another cup of tea, Mrs. Er- 
 rington ? Won^t you try any of that pound cake, 
 Mr. Warlock ? " (N.B. He has eaten three muffins 
 unassisted; but they do not prosper with him. 
 He has a hungry glare.) " Mrs. Dockett ? No ? " 
 Mrs. Bodkin looks round, and lifts her meek, foxy 
 little nose interrogatively at each member of the 
 circle. No one will eat or drink more. The doctor 
 prepares to make up the tables. 
 
 The card-tables are always set out in an inner 
 drawing-room, adjoining that in which our friends 
 are taking tea. Dr. Bodkin hates to hear any 
 noise when he is at his rubber, so there are thick 
 curtains before the door of communication between 
 the two rooms; and the door is shut, and the 
 curtains drawn, whenever Minnie desires to have 
 music on whist evenings. 
 
 The sound of the piano penetrates to the card- 
 players, nevertheless. But Mrs. Bodkin declares 
 that she can never hear a note, when she is in the 
 little drawing-room, with the door shut, and the 
 curtains drawn. And although the doctor wears a
 
 48 A CR ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 frown on liis bald foreliead, and is more than 
 ordinarily severe on his partner whenever the 
 piano begins to sound during a game^ yet he never 
 takes any step to have the instrument silenced. 
 
 The players file off in the wake of the host. 
 There is a quartet at the doctor's table. At another, 
 Mrs. Dockett, Mrs. Warlock, and Mr. Smith play 
 dummy. Algernon Errington hates cards, and — 
 naturally — doesn't play. The Eev. Peter Warlock 
 also hates cards, but is wanted to make up the 
 rubber, and — naturally — plays. Mrs. Bodkin hovers 
 between the two rooms, and Minnie and Algernon 
 are left almost tete-a-tete. 
 
 " And so you really, really think of going to 
 London ? " says Minnie gravely. 
 
 " To seek my fortune ! '' answers Algernon, 
 with a smile. " Turn a-gaiu, Er-ring-ton — I don't 
 know why that shouldn't be rung out on Bow Bells. 
 You see my name has the same number of syllables 
 as Whit-ting-ton! I declare that is a good 
 omen ! " 
 
 " Whittington made himself useful to the cook, 
 and took care of his kitten. I wonder what you 
 will do, Algy, to deserve fortune ? " 
 
 " Do you think fortune favours the deserving ? 
 They paint her as a woman ! " cries Master 
 Algernon, with a saucy grimace. 
 
 "^Algy, I like you. We are old chums. Have 
 you considered this step ? Have you any reason-
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 49 
 
 able prospect of making your Vfaj, if you refuse the 
 Bristol man's proposition." 
 
 Minnie seldom speaks so earnestly as slie is 
 speaking now; still seldomer volunteers any in- 
 quiry into other peoj)le\s affairs. Algernon is 
 sensible of tbe distinction^, and flattered by it. He 
 fortliwitli proceeds to lay bis bopes and plans before 
 ber ; that is to say, be talks a great deal witb 
 astonishing candour and fluency, and says won- 
 derfully little. His mother is so anxious ; these 
 Seeleys are ber people. It would vex the dear old 
 lady so terribly, if he were to prefer the Bristol 
 side of the house ! Though, perhaps, that would 
 be, selfishly speaking, the right policy. 
 
 " Ah, I see ! " exclaims Minnie, sinking back 
 among her cushions when he has done speak- 
 ing. 
 
 By-and-by, one or two more guests drop in : 
 young Pawkins, of Pudcombe Hall, some six miles 
 from Whitford; Lieutenant- Colonel Whistler, on 
 half-pay, with his two nieces. Rose and Violet 
 McDougall ; and with them Alethea Dockett, who 
 is still a day-boarder at a girls' school in Whitford, 
 and has been spending the afternoon with the 
 Misses McDougall. The latter young ladies never 
 play whist. Little Ally Dockett sometimes takes 
 a hand, if need be, and acquits herself not dis- 
 creditably; but sixteen rushes in where two-and- 
 thirty fears to tread. Rose and Violet are on the 
 
 VOL, I. E
 
 60 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 doubtful border-land of life, and keep up a brisk 
 skirmisbing warfare witb tbeir enemy, Time. Tbey 
 would not give tbat wily old traitor tbe triumpli of 
 putting themselves at a whist-table for — for any- 
 thing short of a bona fide offer of marriage, with a 
 good settlement. 
 
 All those guests Minnie receives very graciously, 
 with a sort of royal condescension. She is quite 
 unconscious that the Misses McDougall (of whose 
 intelligence she has, truth to say, a disdainful esti- 
 mate) are alive to the fact that she thinks them 
 fools, and that they take a good deal of credit to 
 themselves for bearing with her airs, poor thing ! 
 But then she is so afflicted ! 
 
 " Oh, Minnie, what's that ? Do let me see ! Is 
 it one of your caricatures, you wicked thing ? " 
 cries Rose, darting on the portrait of David Powell. 
 " It's better drawn than Minnie can do," says 
 Violet, with an air of having evidence wrung from 
 her on oath. 
 
 " It may be that, and yet not very good," 
 answers Minnie carelessly. "Mr. Errington has 
 been trying to give me an idea of some one I've 
 never seen, and probably never shall see." 
 
 " It's the Methodist preacher, by Jove ! " says 
 young Pawkins with his glass in his eye. "I 
 heard him and saw him last summer on Whit 
 Meadow." 
 
 Colonel Whistler, after holding the paper out at
 
 A CHAR2IING FELLOW. 51 
 
 the utmost stretcli of his arm, solem.nly puts on a 
 pair of gold spectacles and examines it. 
 
 " Monstrous good ! " he pronounces, " Very- 
 well, Errington ! That^s just the cut of that kind 
 of fellow." 
 
 " Have you seen him, colonel ? " asks Minnie. 
 
 " No — no ; I can^t say I have seen him. Don't 
 like these irregular practitioners. Miss Minnie. But 
 I know the sort of fellow. That's just the cut of 
 'em ! " 
 
 " I wish I could draw. Miss Bodkin," says a 
 voice behind Minnie at the head of the sofa ; " I 
 would show you a better likeness of the man than 
 that ! " 
 
 Minnie puts her thin white hand over her 
 shoulder to the new comer, whom she cannot see. 
 '' Mr. Diamond ! " she exclaims very softly. 
 
 " How can you tell ? " 
 
 " I know your voice."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The little group round Minnie's sofa dispersed 
 as Mr. Diamond came forward. He was barely 
 known by sight to most of tliem^ and merely bowed 
 gravely and shyly, without speaking. 
 
 "Who's that?" asked Colonel Whiistler, in a 
 loud whisper, of his eldest niece. '' Eh ? oh ! ah ! 
 second master — yes, yes, yes ; to be sure ! " And 
 the gallant gentleman walked off to the card-room, 
 and joined the party at Mrs. Dockett's table, where 
 there was a vacant place. It must be owned that 
 the colonel's appearance was by no means rap- 
 turously hailed there. He was a notoriously bad 
 player. Fate, however, allotted him as a partner 
 to Mr. Warlock. Mrs. Dockett and Mr. Smith 
 exchanged' glances of satisfaction, and the gloom 
 on Mr. Warlock's brow perceptibly deepened as the 
 colonel, polite, smiling, and eager for the fray, took 
 his seat opposite to that clerical victim. 
 
 "Algy, give Mr. Diamond your chair," said
 
 A CHAllMING FELLOW. 53 
 
 Miss Bodkin. It was in tliis imperious manner 
 tliat she occasionally addressed lier young friend. 
 In lier eyes he was still a scliool-boy. And tlien 
 she was four years his senior, and had been a young 
 woman grown when he was still playing marbles 
 and munching toffy. 
 
 Algy by no means considered himself a school- 
 boy, but he had excellent tact and temper. He 
 rose directly, shook hands with his tutor, and then 
 standing opposite to Minnie, put his knuckles to 
 his forehead, after the fashion in vogue amongst 
 rustic children by way of salute, and said meekly, 
 '^Yes'm, please'm.''^ 
 
 Minnie laughed. "You don't mind, do you, 
 Algernon ? " she said, looking up at him. 
 
 "Not at all, Miss Bodkin. You have merely 
 cast another blight over my young existence. I am 
 growing to look like the reverend Peter, in conse- 
 quence of your ill-usage. Don't you perceive a 
 ghastly hue upon my brow ? No ? Ah, well, you 
 would if you had any feeling. Here, let me put 
 this cushion better for you. Will that do ? " 
 
 " Capitally, thanks. And, look here, Algy ; I 
 can't bear any music to-night, so will you get 
 mamma to set the McDougalls down to a round 
 ^ame ? And play yourself, there's a good boy ! " 
 
 " Oh, Minnie, yon ought to have been Mrs. 
 Nero. There never was such a tyrant. Well, 
 Pawkins and I must make ourselves agreeable, I
 
 54 A CBABMING FELLOW. 
 
 suppose. For England, home, and beauty — liere 
 goes ! " And Algernon speedily liad tlie two Miss 
 McDougallSj and Mr. Pawkins, and Alethea Dockett 
 engaged in a game of vingt-et-un — played in a 
 very infantine manner by tlie first-named ladies, 
 and with a good deal of business-like gravity by 
 little Alethea, who liked to win. 
 
 Mr. Diamond looked at the group with his hand 
 over his mouth, after his habit. 
 
 " Isn^t he a nice fellow V asked Minnie, watch- 
 ing Mr. Diamond's face curiously. 
 
 " Errington ? " 
 
 " Of course V 
 
 "Very.'' 
 
 "l^nt now, tell me — do sit down here; I want to 
 talk to you. You come so seldom. I wonder why 
 you came to-night ? " 
 
 " I chanced to meet Mrs. Bodkin in the street,, 
 and she asked me so pressingly — she is so 
 good ! '' 
 
 Minnie's face wore a pained look. '^ It is a pity 
 mamma should have teased you," she said, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 Matthew Diamond took no notice of the words.. 
 Perhaps he did not hear them. "I am not fit to 
 go to evening parties," he continued. " The very 
 wax-lights dazzle me. I feel like a bat or an 
 owl." 
 
 " Too wise for your company, that means ! "
 
 A CE ARMING FELLOW. 65 
 
 " How can you say so ? No : I assure you I 
 was compared to an owl tlie otlier evening by a 
 lady, and I felt the justice of the comparison." 
 
 " By a lady ! What lady ? " 
 
 Mr. Diamond smiled a little amused smile at 
 the authoritative tone of the question. Minnie did 
 not see it. She was leaning her elbow on a cushion, 
 and had her face turned towards Mr. Diamond; 
 but her eyes, which usually looked out, open and 
 unabashed, were half veiled by their lids. 
 
 "The lady was Mrs. Errington," answered the 
 tutor, after a moment^s pause. 
 
 " She called you an owl ? That eagle ? "Well, 
 she has this aquiline quality; I believe she could 
 stare the sun himself out of countenance ! " 
 
 " You were asking me to tell you " said Mr. 
 
 Diamond. 
 
 " To tell me ? Oh, yes ; about the Metho- 
 dist preacher. That caricature is not like him, you 
 say ? " 
 
 ''Not at all. It is a vulgar conception of the 
 
 man." 
 
 "And the man is not vulgar? I am glad of 
 that ! Tell me about him." 
 
 Matthew Diamond had heard the preacher 
 more than once. The first time had been by 
 chance on Whit Meadow. The other times were 
 in the crowded, close Wesleyan chapel, into which 
 he had penetrated at the cost of a good deal of
 
 66 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 personal inconvenience, so greatly liad Powell's 
 eloquence impressed liim. 
 
 " Tlie man is like a flame o£ fire/' lie said. " It 
 is wonderful ! He must be like Garrick, according 
 to tlie descriptions I liave lieard. And, then, tkis 
 fellow is so handsome — wild and oriental-looking. 
 I always long to clap a turban on his head, and a 
 great flowing robe over his shoulders/' 
 
 Minnie listened eagerly, with parted lips, to 
 all that Diamond would tell her of the preacher. 
 
 "That is for his manner," she said, at length. 
 " JSTovi^, as to the matter ? " 
 
 Mr, Diamond paused. " The man is an en- 
 thusiast, you know," he answered, gravely. 
 
 " But as to his doctrine ? Give me some idea 
 of the kind of thing he says." 
 
 " Not now." 
 
 " Yes ; now. This moment." 
 
 "Excuse me; I cannot enter into the subject 
 
 now." 
 
 Minnie raises her hrown eyes to his steel-grey 
 ones, and then drops her own quickly. 
 
 " Will you ever ? " she asks, meekly. 
 
 " Perhaps. I don't know.'' 
 
 Miss Bodkin is not accustomed to be answered 
 with such unceremonious curtness ; but, perhaps on 
 account of its novelty, Mr. Diamond's blunt dis- 
 regard of her requests (in that house Minnie's 
 requests have the weight of commands) does not
 
 A CHAHMING FELLOW. 67 
 
 ruffle lier. SKe bears it with, tlie most perfect 
 sweetness,, and proceeds to discourse of otlier tilings. 
 
 "Don^t you think it a pity," she says, "that 
 Algernon Errington sliould have refused his 
 cousin^s offer ? " 
 
 " A great pity — for liim/' 
 
 "All! you think Mr. Filthorpe of Bristol is 
 not to be condoled with on the occasion ? " 
 
 Mr. Diamond's firmly closed lijss remain im- 
 movable. 
 
 Minnie looks at him wistfully, and then says 
 suddenly, " Do you know I like Algy very mucli ! 
 There is something* so bright and winning and gay 
 about him ! I have known him so long — ever since 
 lie came here as a small child in a frock. And 
 papa knew his father, Dr. Errington. He was a 
 very clever man, a brilliant talker, and greatly 
 sought after in society. Algy inherits all that. 
 And be has — what they say his father bad not — 
 a temper tbat is almost perfect, thoroughly sound 
 and sweet. I wisb you liked him." 
 
 " Who tells you that I do not like bim ? You 
 are mistaken in fancying so. I think Errington 
 one of the most winning fellows I ever knew in my 
 life." 
 
 " Y-yes ; but you don't think so vv^ell of him as 
 I do." 
 
 " Perhaps tbat is hardly to be expected ! And 
 pardon me, Miss Bodkin, but you don't know "
 
 A CH ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 " I know iiotliing about your tlaouglits on tlie 
 subject ! " interrupts Minnie quickly, and with a 
 bright, mischievous glance. " Forgive my inter- 
 rupting you ; but when I am to have a cold shower- 
 bath, I like to pull the string myself. Now it's 
 over.'' 
 
 " You think me a terrible bear," says Diamond, 
 looking down on her beautiful, animated face. 
 
 " Ah ! take care. If I know nothing about your 
 thoughts, how do you pretend to guess mine ? 
 Besides, I am not so zoological in my choice of 
 epithets as your friend, Mrs. Errington. Papa 
 nearly quarrelled with that lady on the subject of 
 Algy's going away. But, you know, it is not all 
 Mrs. Erring-ton's fault. Algy chooses to try his 
 fortune under the auspices of Lord Seely — I can 
 see that plainly enough. And what Algy chooses 
 his mother chooses. He has been terribly spoiled." 
 
 " It is a great misfortune " 
 
 "To be spoiled?" 
 
 " For him to have lost his father when he was a 
 child. Otherwise he might not have been so pam- 
 pered : though fathers spoil their children some- 
 times ! " 
 
 " Mine spoils me, I think. But then there is 
 an excuse, after all, for spoiling me." 
 
 *'My dear Miss Bodkin, you cannot sujDpose 
 that I had any such meaning." 
 
 " You ? Oh, no ! You are honest : you never
 
 A CHABMING FELLOW. 6& 
 
 speak in innuendoes. But it is true, you know. My 
 fatlier and mother liave spoiled me. Poor father 
 and mother ! I am but a miserable, frail little 
 craft for them to have ventured so much love and 
 devotion in ! " 
 
 It was not in mortal man — not even in mortal 
 man whose heart was filled with a passion for 
 another woman — to refrain from a tender glance 
 and a soft tone, in answer to Minnie's pathetic 
 little plaint. Her beauty and her intellect might 
 be resisted : her helplessness, and acknowledgment 
 of peculiar affliction, could not be. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Matthew Diamond ; " who would 
 not embark all their freight of affection in such a 
 venture as the hope that you would love them 
 again ? I think your parents are paid." 
 
 It has been said that Mr. Diamond's calm, 
 grave face raised an indefinite expectation in the 
 beholder. When he said those words to Minnie 
 Bodkin_, you would have thought, if you had been 
 watching him, that you had found the key of the 
 puzzle, and that an ineffable tenderness was the 
 secret that lay hid beneath that grave mask. The 
 stern mouth smiled, the stern eyes beamed, the 
 straight brows were lifted in a compassionate 
 curve. Minnie had never seen his face with that 
 look on it, and the change in it gave her a curious 
 pang, half of pain, half of pleasure. Strong con- 
 flicting feelings battled in her. She was strung to
 
 60 A CHAB^IING FELLOW. 
 
 a liigli pitch, of excitement ; and lier eyes briglit- 
 ened, and her pulse beat quicker — all for a look, 
 a smile, a beam of the eye from this staid, 
 quiet schoolmaster ! What do we know of the 
 thought in our neighbour's brain ? of the thrill 
 that makes his heart flutter ? We do not care for 
 this air-bubble. How can he ? It is yonder beau- 
 tiful transparent ball, all radiant with prismatic 
 colours, that we expend our breath upon. Up it 
 goes — up, up, up — look ! No ; our stupid neigh- 
 bour is watching his own aiiy sphere, which is not 
 nearly so beautiful; and which, we know, will burst 
 presently ! 
 
 The game of vingt-et-un comes to an end. 
 Almost at the same moment the whist-players 
 break up, and come trooping into the drawing- 
 room ; trooping and talking rather noisily, to say 
 the truth, as though to indemnify themselves for 
 the silence which Doctor Bodkin insists upon 
 during the classic game. Mrs. Bodkin bustles up 
 to her daughter ; hopes she is not tired ; thinks she 
 looks a little fagged; wonders why she did not 
 have any music, as she generally likes Kose 
 McDougall's Scotch ballads; supposes Mr. Diamond 
 preferred not to play, as she sees he has been sit- 
 ting out, and trusts he has not been bored. 
 
 But of all the people present, Mrs. Bodkin 
 alone guesses that Minnie has enjoyed her evening, 
 and why. And, with her mother's and woman's
 
 A CEABMING FELLOW. 61 
 
 instinct, slie knows tliat Minnie's pleasure would 
 have been spoiled by guessing that it had been 
 guessed. For the rest, this small anxious-faced 
 woman cares but little. She would tear your 
 feelings to mince-meat to feed the fancies of her 
 daughter, as ruthlessly as any maternal vixen 
 would slay a chicken for her cubs; although, for 
 herself, no hare is milder or more timid. 
 
 The Misses McDougall are in good spirits. .They 
 have won, and they have had the two young men 
 all to themselves, for Ally Dockett in short frocks 
 doesn't count. Also Minnie Bodkin has kept aloof. 
 That bright lamp of hers is not favourable to| such 
 twinklino- little rushlic^hts as Rose and Violet are 
 able to display. But this evening they have not 
 been quenched by a superior luminary, and are 
 quite radiant and cheerful. Dr. Bodkin, too, is 
 contented in his lofty manner ; for there has been 
 no music, and he has enjoyed his rubber in peace. 
 Colonel Whistler has lost, but' the stakes are always 
 modest at Dr. Bodkin's table, and he doesn't mind 
 it. Over the feelings of the Rev. Peter Warlock it 
 will, perhaps, be best to draw a veil. The reverend 
 gentleman stalks in, and sits down in a corner, 
 whence he can stare at Minnie unobserved. It is 
 the only comfort he enjoys throughout the evening. 
 And for this he thinks it worth while to submit to 
 the peine forte et dure of playing whist, with 
 Colonel Whistler for his partner.
 
 62 A CEABMING FELLOW. 
 
 Mrs, Errington sails towards Minnie's sofa^ and 
 suddenly stops shorty and opens her eyes very wide. 
 
 Mr. Diamond, who is tlie object of her gaze, 
 rises and bows. " Good evening, madam," he 
 says, unable to repress a smile at her manifest 
 astonishment on beholding him there. 
 
 " Why, how do you do, Mr. Diamond ? Dear 
 me ! I little expected to see you this evening. 
 Dear Minnie, how are you now ? Well, this is a 
 surprise ! " 
 
 Then, as Mr. Diamond moves away, Mrs. 
 Errington takes his chair beside Minnie, and says 
 to her confidentially — " Now, I hope, Minnie, you 
 won't owe me a grudge for it ; but I must confess 
 that if it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't have 
 had that gentleman to entertain this evening." 
 
 "What on earth do you mean?" cries Minnie, 
 with scant ceremony, and flashes an impatient 
 glance at the lady's soft, smiling, self-satisfied 
 visage. 
 
 " My dear, I advised him to come here a little 
 ■oftener. I think he felt diffident, you know, and 
 all that. Poor man, he is rather dull, although 
 Algy is always crying up his talents. But it 
 really is kind to bring him forward a little. I 
 asked him to tea the other night. You see he 
 must feel it a good deal when people are affable, 
 and so on, for" — here her voice sank to a whisper 
 — " he told me himself that he had been a sizar."
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 63 
 
 Witli all wliich. benevolent remarks Miss Bodkin 
 is^ o£ course, liigUy delighted. Slie does not 
 foi'get tliem either; for after the negus has been 
 drunk, and the sandwiches eaten, and the company 
 has departed, she says to her father, " Papa, was 
 Mr. Diamond a sizar ?" 
 
 " I don^t know, child. Very likely. None the 
 worse for that, if he were." 
 
 " The worse ! No ! " returns Minnie, with a 
 superb smile. 
 
 '^ Who says he was V 
 
 "Mrs. Errington.^' 
 
 "Pooh! Ten to one it isn^t true then. She 
 has her good points, poor woman, but the Ancrams 
 are all liars ; every one of them ! Greatest liars in 
 all the Midland Counties. It runs in the family, 
 like gout." 
 
 "It does not seem hkely, certainly, that Mr. 
 Diamond should have confided the circumstance to 
 Mrs. Errington," observed Minnie, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Confided ! No ; I never knew a man less 
 likely to confide anything to anybody." 
 
 " However, after all, it is a thing which all the 
 ivorld might know, isn^t it, papa ?" 
 
 Dr. Bodkin was not interested in the question. 
 He gave a great loud yawn, and declared it was 
 time for Minnie to go to bed. 
 
 " It doesn^t follow that I'm sleepy because you 
 yawn, papa ! " she said saucily.
 
 64 A GHABMING FELLOW. 
 
 " You are tired though, puss ! I see it in your 
 
 face. Go to bed. Mrs. Bodkin, get Minnie off to 
 
 rest." 
 
 He bent to kiss bis daughter, and bid her good 
 
 night, 
 
 " Say ' God bless ^ me, papa/' she whispered, 
 drawing his head down and kissing his forehead. 
 
 " Don't I always say it ? God bless you, my 
 darling ! " 
 
 There were tears in Minnie's eyes as she turned 
 her head away among her cushions. But nobody 
 saw them. She talked to the maid who undressed 
 her about Mr. Powell, the Methodist preacher, and 
 asked her if she had heard him, and what the folks 
 said about him in the town. 
 
 "No, Miss Minnie. I've never heard him, 
 and I know master wouldn't think it right for any 
 of us to be going to a dissenting chapel. But I 
 do think as there's some good to be got there, 
 miss. For my brother Richard, him that lives 
 groom at Pudcombe Hall — ^he went and got — got 
 ' conversion,' I think they call it, at Mr. Powell's. 
 And since then he's never touched a drop of 
 liquor, nor a bad word never comes out of his 
 mouth. Aud he says he's quite happy and com- 
 fortable in his mind, miss." 
 
 " Is he ? How I envy him ! "
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 It is exceedingly disagreeable to find tliat a scheme 
 you liave set youi- head on^ or a prospect wliicli 
 smiles before you, is displeasing to the persons who 
 surround you. It gives a cold shock to the glow of 
 anticipation. 
 
 Algernon did not perhaps care to sympathise 
 very keenly with other folks^ pleasure, but he 
 certainly desired that they should be pleased with 
 what pleased him, which is not quite the same 
 thing. 
 
 His mother informed him — perhaps with a dash 
 of the Ancram colouring; although we have seen 
 how unjustly the worthy lady was suspected of 
 falsehood by Dr. Bodkin on a late occasion — that 
 Mr. Diamond disapproved of his refusing Mr. Fil- 
 thorpe's offer, and of his resolve to go to London. 
 Dr. Bodkin, Algernon knew, did not approve it; 
 neither did Minnie, although she had never said so 
 in words. How unpleasantly chilly people were, to 
 be sure ! 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 Mrs. Errington did not like Mr. Diamond. She 
 mistrusted him. His silence and gravity, liis odd 
 sarcastic smiles, and taciturn politeness, made her 
 uneasy. Despite the patronising way in which she 
 had spoken of him to Minnie Bodkin, in her heart 
 she thought the young man to be horribly pre- 
 suming. 
 
 " Fm sure he doesn't appreciate you at all, 
 Algy," she declared, winding up a list of Mr. 
 Diamond's defects and misdemeanours with this 
 cuhninating accusation. 
 
 Algy had a shrewd notion that Mr. Diamond's 
 appreciation of himself was likely to be a just one, 
 and he was a little vexed and discomfited, that his 
 tutor had given him no word of praise behind his 
 back. Mrs. Errington saw that she had made an 
 impression, and began to heighten and embellish 
 her statements accordingly. '^^But, my dear boy," 
 said she, '''how can we expect him to recognise 
 talents like yours — gentlemanly talents, so to 
 speak ? The man himself is a mere plodder. Why, 
 he was a sizar at college ! " 
 
 Algy felt himself to be a very generous fellow 
 for continuing to "stand up for old Diamond," as 
 he phrased it. 
 
 " Well, ma'am, plenty of great men have been 
 poor scholars. Dean Swift was a sizar." 
 
 " And Dean Swift died in a madhouse ! So you 
 see, Algy ! "
 
 A Cn ARMING FELLOW. 67 
 
 Mrs. Erringtou plumed lierself a good deal upon 
 this retort, and returned to the attack upon Mr. 
 Diamond with fresh vigour; being one of those 
 persons whose mode of warfare is elephantine, and 
 who, never content with merely killing their 
 enemy, must ponderously stamp and mash every 
 semblance of humanity out of him. 
 
 Algernon did not like all this, ilis vanity was 
 — at least during this period of his life — a great 
 deal more vulnerable than his mother's. And she, 
 although she doated on him, would say unpleasant 
 things, indignantly repeat mortifying remarks which 
 had been made, and in a hundred ways uncon- 
 sciously wound the sensitive love of approbation 
 which was one of Algernon's tenderest (not to say 
 weakest) points. 
 
 It was all very disagreeable. But it was not 
 the worst he had to look forward to. There was 
 one person who would be so cast down, so despair- 
 ing, at the news of his going away, that — that — ^it 
 would be quite painful for a fellow to witness such 
 grief. And yet it could not be expected — it could 
 never have been expected — that he should stay in 
 Whitford all his life ! He must point that out to 
 Ehoda. 
 
 Poor Rhoda ! 
 
 For ten years, that is to say for more than half 
 her life, Algernon Errington had been an idol, a 
 hero, to her. From the first day when, peeping
 
 68 A GHAEMING FELLOW. 
 
 from behind the parlour door^ she had beheld the 
 strangers enter — Mrs. Errington^ majestic, in a 
 huge hat and plume, such as young readers may 
 have seen in obsolete fashion books (the mode was 
 so absurd fifty years ago, and had none of that 
 simple elegance which distinguishes your costume, 
 my dear young lady), and Algy, a lovely fair child, 
 in a black velvet suit and falling collar — from that 
 moment the boy had been a radiant apparition in 
 her imagination. How small, and poor, and 
 shabby she felt, as she peeped out of the parlour 
 at that beautiful, blooming mother and son ! Not 
 poor and shabby in a milliner's sense of the word, 
 but hterally of no account, or beauty, or value, 
 in the world, little shy motherless thing ! She 
 had an intense delight in beauty, this Whitford 
 grocer's daughter. And all her little life the 
 craving for beauty in her had been starved : not 
 mlfully, but because the very conception of such 
 food as would wholesomely have fed it, was wanting 
 in the people with whom she lived. 
 
 That was a great day when she first, by chance, 
 attracted Mrs. Errington's notice. She was too 
 timid and too simple to scheme for that end, as 
 many children would have done, although she 
 tremblingly desired it. What a surprisingly 
 splendid sight was the tortoise-shell work-box, 
 full of amber satin and silver ! What a delisrhtful 
 revelation the sound of the old harpsichord, touched
 
 A CBAE2IING FELLOW. 69 
 
 by Mrs. Erriugton^s plump white fingers ! What 
 a perennial source of wonder and admiration were 
 that lady^s accomplishments, and condescension, 
 and kind soft voice ! 
 
 As to Algernon, there never was such a clever 
 and brilliant little boy. At eight years old he 
 could sing little songs to his mother's accompani- 
 ment, in the sweetest piping voice. He could 
 recite little verses. He even di-ew quite so that 
 you could tell — or E-hoda could — his trees, houses, 
 and men from one another. 
 
 In all the stories his mother told about the 
 greatness of her family, and in all the descriptions 
 she gave of her ancestral home in Warwickshire, 
 E-hoda's imagination put in the boy as the central 
 figure of the piece. She could see him in the great 
 hall hung round with armour ; although she knew 
 that he had never been in the family mansion in 
 his life ; in the grand drawing-room, with its purple 
 carpet and gilt furniture; above all, in the long 
 portrait gallery, of which E-hoda was never tired 
 of hearing. Heaven knows how she, innocently, 
 and Mrs. Errington, exercising her hereditary 
 talent, embellished and transformed the old brick 
 house in its deer park; or what enchanted land- 
 scapes the child at all events conjured up, among 
 the gentle slopes and tufted woods of Warwickshire ! 
 
 Even the period of hobbledehoydom, fatal to 
 beauty, to grace, almost to civilised humanity in
 
 70 A CK ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 most schoolboys, Algernon passed through trium- 
 phantly. He had a great sense of humour, and 
 fastidious pampered habits of mind and body, 
 which enabled him to look down with more or less 
 disdain — a good-humoured disdain, always, Algy 
 was never bitter — upon the obstreperous youth at 
 the Whitford Grammar School. 
 
 One fight he had. He was forced into it by 
 circumstances, against his will. Not that he was 
 a coward, but he had a greater, and more candidly 
 expressed regard for the ease and comfort of his 
 body, than his schoolfellows conceived to be com- 
 patible with pluck. However, our young friend, 
 if less stoical, was a great deal cleverer than the 
 majority of his peers ; and perceiving that the 
 moment had arrived when he must either fio-ht or 
 lose caste altogether, he frankly accepted the former 
 alternative. He fought a boy bigger and heavier- 
 than himself, got beaten (not severely, but fairly 
 well beaten) and bore his defeat — in the dialect 
 of his compeers, " took his licking '' — admirably. 
 He was quite as popular afterwards, as if he had 
 thrashed his adversary, who was a loutish boy, the 
 cock of the school, as to strength. Had he bruised 
 his way to the perilous glory of being cock of the 
 school himself, it would have behoved him to 
 maintain it against all comers ; which is an anxious 
 and harassing position. Algy had not vanquished 
 the victor, but he had " taken his lickinsc like a
 
 A GH ARMING FELLOW. 71 
 
 trump/' and, on the whole, may be said to have 
 achieved his reputation, at the smallest cost pos- 
 sible under the circumstances. 
 
 His mother and Rhoda almost shrieked at 
 beholding- his bruised cheek, and bleeding lip, 
 when he came home one half-holiday, from the 
 field of battle. Algy laughed as well as his swollen 
 features would let him, and calmed their feminine 
 apprehensions. Nor would he accept his fond 
 parent's enthusiastic praise of his heroism, mingled 
 with denunciations of " that murderous young 
 ruffian. Master Mannit." 
 
 "Pooh, ma'am," said the hero, "it's all brutal 
 and low enough. We bumped and thumped each 
 other as awkwardly as possible. I fought because 
 I was obKged. And I didn't like it, and I shan't 
 fight again if I can help it. It is so stupid ! " 
 
 The young fellow's great charm was to be un- 
 affected. Even his fine-gentlemanism sat quite 
 easily on him, and was displayed with the frankest 
 good humour. Some one reproached him once 
 with being more nice than wise. "We can't all 
 be wise, but we needn't be nasty ! " returned Algy, 
 with quaint gravity. His temper was, as Minnie 
 Bodkin had said, nearly j^erfect. He had a sin- 
 gular knack of disarming anger or hostility. You 
 could not laugh Algernon out of any course he had 
 set his heart upon — a rare kind of strength at his 
 age — but it was ten to one he would laugh you
 
 72 A CEAmilNG FELLOW. 
 
 into agreeing witli him. Every one of liis little 
 gifts and acco'mplisliments was wortli twice as 
 niucli in liim as it would liave been in clumsier 
 hands. 
 
 If jou had a heartache, I do not think that you 
 would have found Algy^s companionship altogether 
 soothing. Sorrow is apt to feel the very sunshine 
 cruelly bright and cheerful. But if you were merry 
 and wanted society : or bored, and wanted amuse- 
 ment : or dull and wanted exhilarating, no better 
 companion could be desired. 
 
 He was genial with his equals, affable to his 
 inferiors, modest towards his superiors — and had 
 not a grain of veneration in his whole composition. 
 
 At seventeen years old Algernon left the 
 Grammar School. But he continued to '^'^read^'' 
 with Mr. Diamond for nearly a twelvemonth. "My 
 son is studying the classics with Mr. Diamond," 
 Mrs. Errington would say ; " I can't send my boy 
 to the University, where all his forefathers distin- 
 guished themselves. But he has had the education 
 of a gentleman.''^ 
 
 It was a very desultory kmd of reading at the 
 best, and it was interrupted by the long Midsummer 
 holidays, during which Mr. Diamond went away 
 from Whitford, no one knew exactly whither. 
 And during these same holidays, Mrs. Errington, 
 who said she required change of air, had taken 
 lodgings in a little quiet Welsh village, and
 
 A CE ARMING FELLOW. 73 
 
 obtained Mr. Maxfield's permission to liave E-lioda 
 "witli her. 
 
 That was a time of joy for ttie girl. It did not at 
 all detract from Rlioda's liappiness, that she was re- 
 quired to wait hand and foot on Mrs. Errington ; to 
 bring her her breakfast in bed; to trim her caps^ to 
 mend her stockings ; to iron out scraps of fine lace 
 and muslin ; to walk with her when she was minded 
 to stroll into the village; to order the dinner; to 
 make the pudding — a culinary operation too delicate 
 for the fingers of the rustic with whom ' they 
 lodged — to listen to her patroness when it pleased 
 her to talk ; and to play interminable games of 
 cribbage with her when she was tired of talking. 
 All these thinsrs were a labour of love to Rhoda. 
 And Mrs. Errington was kind to the girl in her 
 own way. 
 
 And above all^ was not Algy there ? Those 
 were happy days in the Welsh village. On the 
 long delicious summer afternoons, when Mrs. Er- 
 rington was asleep after dinner, Rhoda would sit 
 out of doors with her sewing; on a bench under 
 the parlour window, so as to be within call of her 
 patroness ; and Algy would lounge beside her with 
 a book ; or make short excursions to get her wild 
 flowers, which he would toss into her lap, laughing 
 at her ecstasy of gratitude. "Oh, Algy ! '^ she 
 would ciy, " Oh, how good of you ! How lovely 
 they are ! '' The words written down are not
 
 74 A GEABMING FELLOW. 
 
 eloquent^ but Rlioda^s looks and tones made tliem 
 so. 
 
 "They are not lialf so lovely,^^ -^qJ 'would 
 answer, " as properly educated garden flowers ; 
 nor so sweet eitlier. But I know you like tliat 
 sort of herbage/^ 
 
 Rhoda never forgot those days. How should 
 she forget them ? — since it was at this period that 
 Algernon first discovered that he was in love with 
 her. Perhaps he might never have made the dis- 
 covery if they had all stayed at Whitford. There 
 he saw her, as he had seen her since her childhood, 
 surrounded by coarse common people, and living 
 their life, more or less. It is not every one who 
 can be expected to recognise your diamond, if you 
 set it in lead. Rhoda was always sweet, always 
 gentle, always pretty, but she formed part and 
 parcel of old Max's establishment. When the 
 boy and girl were quite small, she used to help 
 him with his lessons (her one year's seniority made 
 a greater difference between them then, than it did 
 later) and had always been used to do him sisterly 
 service in a hundred ways. And all this was by 
 no means favourable to the young gentleman's 
 falling in love with her. 
 
 But at Llanryddan, Rhoda appeared under quite 
 a different aspect. She looked prettier than ever 
 before, Algernon thought. And perhaps she really 
 was so ; for there is no such cosmetic for the com-
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 75 
 
 plexion as happiness. Apart from lier vulgar re- 
 lations, and treated as a lady by tlie few strangers 
 witli wliom they came in contact, it was surprising 
 to find liow good lier manners were, and how mucli 
 natural grace she possessed. Mrs. Errington had 
 taught her what may be termed the technicalities 
 of polite behaviour. From her own heart and 
 native sensibility she had learnt the essentials. The 
 people in the village turned their heads to admire 
 her, as she walked modestly along. Who could 
 help admiring her ? Algernon decided that there 
 was not one among the young ladies of Whitford 
 who could compare with Rhoda. " She is ten 
 times as pretty as those raw-boned McDougalls, 
 and twenty times as well bred as Alethea Dockett, 
 and ever so much cleverer than Miss Pawkins," he 
 reflected. Minnie Bodkin never came into his head 
 in the list of damsels with whom Ehoda could be 
 compared. Minnie occupied a place apart, quite 
 removed from any idea of love-making. 
 
 Dear Little E,hoda ! How fond she was of him ! 
 
 Altogether Ehoda appeared in a new light, and 
 the new light became her mightily. Yes ; Algy 
 was certainly in love with her, he acknowledged to 
 himself. There was no scene, no declaration. It 
 all came to pass very gradually. In Rhoda the 
 sense of this love stole on as subtly as the dawn. 
 Before she had begun to watch the glowing streaks 
 of rose-colour, it was daylight ! And then how
 
 76 A CE ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 warm and golden it grew in lier little world ! How 
 the birds chirped and fluttered, and tlie flowers 
 breathed sweet breath, and a thousand diamond 
 drops stood on the humblest blades of grass ! 
 
 If she had been nine years old, instead of nearly 
 nineteen, she could scarcely have given less heed to 
 the worldly aspects of the situation. 
 
 Algernon perhaps more consciously set aside 
 considerations of the future. He was but a boy, 
 however ; and he always had a great gift of enjoy- 
 ing the present moment, and sending Janus-headed 
 Care, that looks forward and backward, to the 
 deuce. As yet there was no Lord Seely on his 
 horizon; no London society; no diplomatic career. 
 The latter indeed was but an Ancraniism of his 
 mother^s, when she spoke of it to Mr. Diamond, 
 and Algy at that time had never entertained the 
 idea of it. 
 
 So these two young persons sat side by side, on 
 the bench outside the Welsh cottage, and were as 
 happy as the midsummer days were long. 
 
 But long as the midsummer days were, they 
 passed. Then came the time for going back to 
 Whitford. The day before their return home 
 E-hoda received a shock of pain — the first, but not 
 the last, which she ever felt from this love of hers 
 — at these words, said carelessly, but in a low voice, 
 by Algy, as he lounged at her side, watching the 
 sunset :
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 77 
 
 " Rhoda^ darling, you must not say a word to 
 any one about — about you and me, you know/' 
 
 Not say a word .! What liad she to say ? And 
 to whom ? " No, Algy/^ she answered, in a faint 
 little voice, and began to meditate. The idea had 
 been presented to her for the first time that it was 
 her duty, or Algy's duty, to drag their secret from 
 its home in Fairyland, and subject it to the eyes and 
 tongues of mortals. But being once there, the idea 
 stayed in her mind and would not be banished. Her 
 father — Mrs. Errington — what would they say if they 
 knew that — that she had dared to love Algernon? 
 The future began to look terribly hard to her. The 
 glittering mist which had hidden it was drawn away 
 like a gauze curtain. How could she not have seen 
 it all before ? Would any one believe for evermore 
 that she had been such a child, such a fool, so 
 selfishly absorbed in her pleasant day-dreams, as 
 not to calculate the cost of it for one moment until 
 now ? 
 
 '' Oh, Algy ! " the poor child broke out, lifting a 
 pale face and startled eyes to his ; " if we could only 
 go on for ever as we are ! If it would be always 
 summer, and we two could stay in this village, and 
 never go back, or see any of the people again — 
 except father,''^ she added hastily. And a pang of 
 remorse smote her as her conscience told her that 
 the father who loved her so well, and was so good 
 to her, whatever he might be to others, was not at
 
 78 A CHABMING FELLOW 
 
 all necessary to tlie happiness of lier existence 
 henceforward. 
 
 "Don^t let's be miserable now, at all events/' 
 returned Algernon clieerfully. " Look at tliat 
 purple bar of cloud on tlie gold ! I wonder if I 
 could paint tliat. I wisli I liad my colour- bos 
 here. The pencil sketches are so dreary after all 
 that colour." 
 
 Rhoda had no doubt that Algernon could paint 
 ^'that/' or anything else he applied his brusli to. 
 After a while she said, with her heart beating 
 violently, and the colour coming and going in her 
 cheeks : " Don't you think it would be wrong, 
 
 deceitful — to — if we — not to tell " Poor Rhoda 
 
 could not frame her sentence, and was obliged to 
 leave it unfinished. 
 
 " Deceitful ! Am I generally deceitful, Rhoda ? 
 Oh, I say, don't cry ; there's a pet ! Don't, my 
 darling ! I can't bear to see you sorry. But, look 
 here, Rhoda, dear; I'm so young yet, that it 
 wouldn't do to talk about being in love, or any- 
 thing of that sort. Though I know I shall never 
 change, they would declare I didn't know my own 
 mind, and would make a joke of it" — this shot 
 told with Rhoda, who shrank from ridicule, as a 
 sensitive plant shrinks from the north wind — " and 
 bother my — our lives out. Can't you see old 
 Gi'imgriffin's great front teeth grinning at us ? " 
 
 It was in these terms that Algy was wont to
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 79 
 
 allude to tliat respectable spinster. Miss Elizabeth 
 Grimsbaw. 
 
 Rboda knew tbat Algy wisbed and expected 
 her to smile wben be said tbat ; and sbe tried to 
 please bim, but tbe smile would not come. Her 
 lip quivered, and tears began to gatber in ber eyes 
 again. Sbe would bave sobbed outrigbt if sbe 
 bad tried to speak. Tbe more sbe tbougbt tbe 
 sadder and more frigbtened sbe grew. Ridicule 
 was painful, but tbat was not tbe worst. Her 
 fatber ! Mrs. Brrington ! Sbe lay awake baK tbe 
 nigbt, terrifying berself witb imaginations of tbeir 
 wratb. 
 
 Algy found an opportunity tbe next morning 
 to wbisper to ber a few words. " Don^t look so 
 melancboly, Rboda. Tbey^ll wonder at Wbitford 
 wbat's tbe matter if you go back witb sucb a wan 
 face. And as to wbat you said about deceit, wby 
 we sban't pretend not to love eacb otber ! Look 
 bere, we must bave patience ! I sball always love 
 you, darling, and I'm sure to get my own way witb 
 my motber in tbe long run ; I always do.'' 
 
 So tben tbere would be obstacles to contend 
 witb on Mrs. Errington's part, and Algy acknow- 
 ledged tbat tbere would. Of course sbe bad 
 known before tbat it must be so. But Algy bad 
 declared tbat be would always love ber; tbat was 
 tbe one comforting tbougbt to wbicb sbe clung. 
 Rboda bad grown from a cbild to a woman since
 
 80 A GE ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 yesterday. Algy was only older by four-and- 
 twenty hours. 
 
 After tlieir return to Wliitford came Mr. Fil- 
 tiiorpe^s letter. Then his mother's application to 
 Lady Seely^ brought about by an old acquaintance 
 of Mrs. Errington^ who lived in London, and kept 
 up an intermittent correspondence with her. Both 
 these events were talked over in Khoda's presence. 
 Indeed, the girl filled the part towards Mrs. 
 Errington that the confidant enacts towards the 
 prima donna in an Italian opera. Mrs. Errington 
 was always singing scenas to her, which, so far as 
 Rhoda's share in them went, might just as well 
 have been uttered in the shape of a soliloquy. But 
 the lady was used to her confidant, and liked to 
 have her near, to take her hand in the impressive 
 passages, and to walk up the stage with her during 
 the symphony. 
 
 So Rhoda heard Algernon's prospects can- 
 vassed. In her heart she longed that he should 
 accept Mr. Filthorpe's offer. It would keep him 
 nearer to her in every sense. She had few oppor- 
 tunities of talking with him alone now — far fewer 
 than at dear Llanryddan ; but she was able to say a 
 few words privately to him one afternoon (the very 
 afternoon of Dr. Bodkin's whist-party)^ and she 
 timidly hinted that if Algy went to Bristol, instead 
 of to London amongst all those great folks, she 
 would not feel that she had lost him so completely.
 
 A CE ARMING FELLOW. 81 
 
 "My dear child !^^ exclaimed Algy, whose out- 
 look on life liad a good deal changed during the 
 last three months, " how can you talk so ? Fancy 
 me on Filthorpe's office stool ! " 
 
 "London is such a long way off, Algy/^ mur- 
 mured the girl plaintively. "And then, amongst 
 all those grand people, lords and ladies, you — you 
 may grow different/^ 
 
 " Upon my word, my dear Rhoda, your appre- 
 ciation of me is highly flattering ! For my part 
 it seems to me more likely that I should grow 
 * different ' in the society of Bristol tradesmen than 
 amongst my own kith and kin — people like my- 
 self and my parents in education and manners, 
 I am a gentleman, Rhoda. Lord Seely is not 
 more." 
 
 Rhoda shrank back abashed before this magnifi- 
 cent young gentleman. Such a flourish was very 
 unusual in Algernon. But the Ancram strain in 
 him had been asserting itself lately. He was sorry 
 when he saw the poor girl's hurt look and downcast 
 eyes, from which the big tears were silently falling 
 one by one. He took her in his arms, and kissed 
 her pale cheeks, and brought a blush on to them, 
 and an April smile to her lips ; and called her his 
 own dear pretty Rhoda, whom he could never, 
 never forget. 
 
 " Perhaps it would be best to forget me, Algy,'' 
 she faltered. And although his loving words, and 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 A CHABMING FELLOW. 
 
 flatteries, and caresses, were inexpressibly sweet to 
 lier, the pain remained at iier heart. 
 
 She never again ventured to say a word to him 
 about his plans. She would listen, meekly and 
 admiringly, to his vivid pictures of all the fine 
 things he was to do in the future : pictures in which 
 her figure appeared — like the donor of a great altar- 
 piece, full of splendid saints and golden-crowned 
 angels — kneeling in one corner. And she would 
 sit in silent anguish whilst Mrs. Erringtou expa- 
 tiated on her son's prospects; wherein, of late, a 
 '^ great alliance" played a large part. But she 
 could not rouse herself to elation or enthusiasm. 
 This mattered little to Mrs. Errington, who only 
 required her confidante to stand tolerably still with 
 her back to the audience. But it worried Alsfernon 
 to see Rhoda's sad, downcast face, irresponsive to 
 any of his bright anticipations. It must be owned 
 that the young fellow's position was not entirely 
 pleasant. Yet his admirable temper and spirits 
 scarcely flagged. He was never cross, except, now 
 and then, just a very little to his mother. And if 
 no one else in the world less deserved his ill- 
 humour, at least no one else in the world was so 
 absolutely certain to forgive him for it !
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 Paeliament was to meet early in February. It 
 seemed strange that that fact should have any 
 interest for Khoda Maxfield ; nevertheless, so it 
 "was. Algernon was to go to London, but it was 
 no use to be there unless Lord Seely, " om' cousin/^ 
 were there also ; and my lord our cousin would not 
 be in town before the meeting of parliament. Thus 
 the assembling of the peers and commons of this 
 realm at Westminster was an event on which poor 
 Rhoda's thoughts were bent pretty often in the 
 course of the twenty-four hours. 
 
 Mrs. Errington announced to the whole Maxfield 
 family that Algernon was going away from Whit- 
 ford, and accompanied the announcement with 
 florid descriptions of the glory that awaited her 
 son, in the highest Ancram style of embellish- 
 ment. 
 
 "Well," said old Max, after listening awhile, 
 " and will this lord get Mr. Algernon a place ? "
 
 84 A CHABMING FELLOW. 
 
 Mrs. Errington could not answer tliis question 
 very definitely. Tiie future was vague, tliougli 
 splendid. But of course Algy would distinguisli 
 himself. That was a matter of course. Perhaps 
 he might begin as Lord Seely's private secretary. 
 
 " A sekketary ! Humph ! I don't think much 
 o' that \" grunted Mr. Maxfield. 
 
 " My dear man, you don't understand these 
 things. How should you ? Many noblemen's sons 
 would only be too delighted to get the position of 
 private secretary to Lord Seely. A man of such 
 distinction ! Hand and glove with the sove- 
 reign ! " 
 
 Maxfield did not altogether dislike to hear his 
 lodger hold forth in this fashion. He had a certain 
 pleasure in contemplating the future grandeur of 
 Mr. Algernon, whose ears he had boxed years ago, 
 on the occasion of finding him enacting the battle 
 of Waterloo, with a couple of schoolfellows, in the 
 warehouse behind the shop, and attacking a Hou- 
 goumont of tea-chests and flour-barrels, so briskly, 
 as to threaten their entire demolition. 
 
 Maxfield was weaving speculations in connection 
 with the young man, of so wild and fanciful a 
 nature as would have astonished his most familiar 
 friends, could they have peeped into the brain inside 
 his grizzled old head. 
 
 But this rose-coloured condition of things did 
 not last.
 
 A CE ARMING FELLOW. 85 
 
 One afternoon, Mrs. Errington looked into liis 
 little sitting-room, on lier way upstairs, and finding 
 liim with, an account-book, in which, he was, not 
 making, but reading entries, sbe stepped in, and 
 began to chat; if any speech, so laboriously con- 
 descending as hers to Mr. Maxfield may be thus 
 designated. Her theme, of course, was her son, 
 and her son's prospects. 
 
 '' That'll be all very fine for Mr. Algernon, to 
 be sure," said old Max, slowly, after some time, 
 ■''but — it'll cost money." 
 
 " Not so much, as you think for. Low persons 
 who feel themselves in a false position, no doubt 
 find it necessary to make a show. But a real 
 gentleman can afford to be simple." 
 
 " But I take it he'll have to afford otker things 
 besides being simple ! He'll have to afford clothes, 
 •and lodging, and maybe food. You aren't rich." 
 
 Mrs.- Errington admitted the fact. 
 
 "Algernon ought to find a wife with a bit o' 
 money," said the old man, looking straight and 
 hard into the lady's eyes. Those round orbs sus- 
 tained the gaze as unflinchingly as if they had 
 been made of blue china. 
 
 "It is not at all a bad idea," Mrs. Errington 
 said, graciously. 
 
 " But then he wouldn't just take the first ugly 
 woman as had a fort'n." 
 
 " Oh dear no ! "
 
 86 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 " No j nor yet an old 'un." 
 " Good gracious^ man ! of course not ! " 
 "Youngs pretty, good_, and a bit o' money» 
 That's about liis mark, eli ? '^ 
 
 Mrs. Errington shook ber bead patbetically 
 " Sbe ougbt to bave birtb, too/' sbe said, " But 
 tbe woman takes ber busband's rank ; unless/' sbe 
 added, correcting berself, and witb mucb empbasis, 
 ''unless sbe bappens to be tbe better born of tbe 
 two." 
 
 " Ob, sbe does, eb ? Tbe woman takes ber 
 husband's rank ? Ah ! well, that's script'ral. I 
 have never troubled my bead about these vain 
 worldly distinctions ; but that is script'ral." 
 
 Mrs. Errington was not there to discuss her 
 landlord's opinions or to listen to them ; but he 
 served as well as another to be the recipient of her 
 talk about Algernon, which accordingly sbe re- 
 sumed, and indulged in ever-higher flights of 
 boasting. Her mendacity, like George Witber's 
 muse, 
 
 As it made wing, so it made power. 
 
 '' The fact is, there is more than one young lady 
 on whom my connections in London have cast 
 their eye for Algy. Miss Pickleham, only daughter 
 of tbe great drysalter, who is such an eminent 
 member of Parliament; Blanche Fitzsnowdon, 
 Judge Wbitelamb's lovely niece; one of Major- 
 General Indigo's charming girls, all of them.
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 87 
 
 perfect specimens of tlie Eastern style of beauty 
 — their mother was an Indian princess, and 
 enormously wealthy. But I am in no hurry for 
 my boy to bind himself in an engagement : it 
 hampers a young man^s career." 
 
 " Career ! " broke out old Max, who had 
 listened to all this, and much more, with an in- 
 creasingly dismayed and lowering expression of 
 countenance. " Why, what's his career to be ? 
 He's been brought up to do nothing ! It 'ud be 
 his only chance to get hold of a wife with a bit 
 o' money. Then he might act the gentleman at 
 his ease ; and maybe his fine friends 'ud help him 
 when they found he didn't want it. But as for 
 career — it's my opinion as he'll never earn his 
 salt ! " 
 
 And with that the old man marched across the 
 passage into the shop, taking no further notice of 
 his lodger ; and she heard him slam the little half- 
 door, giving access to the store-house, with such 
 force as to set the jingling bell on it tinkling for 
 full five minutes. 
 
 Mrs. Errington was so surprised by this sally, 
 that she stood staring after him for some time 
 before she was able to collect herseh: sufficiently to 
 walk majestically upstairs. 
 
 '^Maxfield's temper becomes more and more 
 extraordinary," she said to her son, with an air of 
 great solemnity. " The man really forgets himself
 
 88 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 altogetlier. Do you suppose tliat lie drinks, Algy ? 
 or is he, do you tliink, a little touclied ? " Slie put 
 her finger to her forehead. " Really I should not 
 wonder. There has been a great deal of preaching 
 and screeching lately, since this Powell came ; and, 
 you know, they do say that these Ranters and 
 Methodists sometimes go raving mad at their field- 
 meetings and love-feasts. You need not laugh, 
 my dear boy ; I have often heard your father say 
 that nothing was more contagious than that sort 
 of hysterical excitement. And your father was a 
 physician ; and certainly knew his profession if he 
 didn^t know the world, poor man ! " 
 
 " Was old Max hysterical, ma^am ? " asked 
 Algernon, his whole face lighted up with mis- 
 chievous amusement. And the notion so tickled 
 him, that he burst out laughing at intervals, as it 
 recurred to him, all the rest of the day. 
 
 Betty Grrimshaw, and Sarah, the seiwant-maid, 
 and James, helping his father to serve in the shop, 
 and the customers who came to buy, all suffered 
 from the unusual exacerbation of Maxfield's temper 
 for some time after that conversation of his with 
 Mrs. Errington, 
 
 It increased, also, the resentful feeling which 
 had been growing in his mind towards David 
 Powell. The young man^s tone of rebuke, in 
 speaking of Rhoda^s associating with the Erring- 
 tons, had taken Maxfield by surprise at the time ;
 
 A CEAEMING FELLOW. 89 
 
 and lie had not, lie afterwards tliouglit, been 
 sufficiently" trencliant in liis manner of putting 
 down tlie presumptuous reprover. He blew up 
 his wi'ath until it burned hot within him ; and, 
 the more so, inasmuch as ho could give no vent to 
 it in direct terms. To question and admonish was 
 the acknowledged duty of a Methodist preacher. 
 Conference made no exceptions in favour even of so 
 select a vessel as Jonathan Maxfield. But Max- 
 field thought, nevertheless, that Powell ought to 
 have had modesty and discernment to make the 
 exception himself. 
 
 No inquisitor — no priest, sitting like a mys- 
 terious Eastern idol in the inviolate shrine of the 
 confessional — ever exercised a more tremendous 
 power over the human conscience than was laid in 
 the hands of the Methodist preacher or leader 
 according to Wesley's original conception of his 
 functions. But besides the essential difference 
 between the Romish and Methodist systems that 
 the latter could bring no physical force to bear on 
 the refractory, there was this important point to be 
 noted : namely, that the inquisitor might be sub- 
 jected to inquisition by his flock. The priest might 
 be made to come forth from the confessional-box, 
 and answer to a pressing catechism before all the 
 congregation. In the band-meetings and select 
 societies each individual bound himself to answer 
 the most searching questions " concerning his state.
 
 90 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 sinSj and temptations/^ It was a mutual inquisi- 
 tion, to wliicli, of course, those wlio took part in it 
 voluntarily submitted themselves. 
 
 But the spiritual power wielded by the chiefs 
 was very great, as their own subordination to the 
 conference was very complete. Its pernicious 
 effects were, however, greatly kept in check by the 
 system of itinerancy, which required the preachers 
 to move frequently from place to place. 
 
 There are few human virtues or weaknesses to 
 which, on one side or the other, Methodism in its 
 primitive manifestations did not appeal. Bene- 
 volence, self-sacrifice, fervent piety, temperance, 
 charity, were all called into play by its teachings. 
 But so also were spiritual pride, narrow-minded- 
 ness, fanaticism, gloom, and pharisaical self- 
 righteousness. Only to the slothful, and such as 
 loved their ease above all things, early Methodism 
 had no seductions to offer. 
 
 Jonathan MaxfiekVs father and grandfather had 
 been disciples of John Wesley. The grandfather 
 was born in 1710, seven years before Wesley, and 
 had been among the great preacher^s earliest 
 adherents in Bristol. 
 
 Traditions of John Wesley^s sayings and doings 
 were cherished and handed down in the family. 
 They claimed kindred with Thomas Maxfield, 
 Wesley's first preacher, and conveniently forgot or 
 ignored — as greater families have done — those
 
 A CH ARMING FELLOW. 91 
 
 parts of their kinsman^s career wliicli ran counter 
 to the present course of their creed and conduct. 
 For Thomas Maxfield seceded from Wesley^ but the 
 grandfather and father of Jonathan continued true 
 to Methodism all their lives. They married within 
 the "society" (as was strictly enjoined at the first 
 conference)^ and assisted the spread of its tenets 
 throughout their part of the West of England. 
 
 In the third generation^ however^ the original 
 fire of Methodism had nearly burnt itself out, and 
 a few charred sticks remained to attest the bright- 
 ness that had been. Never, perhaps, in the case of 
 the Maxfields — a cramp -natured, harsh breed — had 
 the fire become a hearth-glow to warm their homes 
 with. It had rather been like the crackling of 
 thorns under a pot. The dryest and sharpest will 
 flare for a while. 
 
 Old Max, nevertheless, looked iipon himself as 
 an exemplary Methodist. He made no mental 
 analyses of himself or of his neighbours. He 
 merely took cognisance of facts as they appeared 
 to him through the distorting medium of his pre- 
 judices, temper, ignorance, and the habits of a 
 lifetime. When he did or said disagreeable things, 
 he prided himself on doing his duty. And his 
 self-approval was never troubled by the reflection 
 that he did not altogether dislike a little bitter 
 flavour in his daily life, as some persons prefer 
 their wine rough.
 
 92 A CR ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 But to do and say disagreeable things because 
 it is your duty is a very different matter from 
 accepting, or listening to, disagreeable things, 
 because it is somebody else's duty to do and say 
 tliem ! It was not to be expected that Jonathan 
 Maxfield should meekly endure rebuke from a 
 young man like David Powell. 
 
 And now crept in the exasperating suspicion 
 that the young man might have been right in his 
 warning ! Maxfield watched his daughter with 
 more anxiety than he had ever felt about her in his 
 life, looking to see symptoms of dejection at 
 Algernon's approaching departure. He did not 
 know that she had been aware of it before it was 
 announced to himself. 
 
 One day her father said to her abruptly, 
 " E/hoda, you're looking very pale and out o' sorts. 
 Your eyes are heavy" (they were swollen with 
 crying), ^^and your face is the colour of a turnip. 
 I think I shall send you off to Duckwell for a bit 
 of a change." 
 
 Duckwell Farm was owned by Seth, Maxfield's 
 eldest son. 
 
 " I don't want a change, indeed, father," said 
 the girl, looking up quickly and eagerly. " I had 
 a headache this morning, but it is quite gone now. 
 That's what made me look so pale." 
 
 From that time forward she exerted herself 
 to appear cheerful, and to shake off the dull pain
 
 A CEARMING FELLOW. 93 
 
 at the lieart wliicli weiglied lier down, until lier 
 father began to persuade himself that he had been 
 mistaken, and over-anxious. She always declared 
 herself to be quite well and free from care. " And 
 I know she would not tell me a \\e," thought the 
 old man. 
 
 Alas, she had learned to lie in her words and 
 her manner. She had, for the first time in her 
 life, a motive for concealment, and she used the 
 natural armour of the weak — duplicity. 
 
 Rhoda had been " good " hitherto, because 
 her nature was gentle, and her impulses affectionate. 
 She had no strong religious fervour, but she hved 
 blamelessly, and prayed reverently, and was docile 
 and humble-minded. She had never professed to 
 have attained that sudden and complete regene- 
 ration of spirit which is the prime glory of 
 Methodism. But then many good persons lived 
 and died without attaining '''assurance.''^ When- 
 ever Rhoda thought on the subject — which, to say 
 the truth, was not often, for her nature, though 
 sweet and pure, was not capable of much spiritual 
 aspiration, and was altogether incapable of fervent 
 self-searching' and fiery enthusiasm — she hoped 
 with simple faith that she should be saved if she 
 did nothing wicked. 
 
 Her father and David Powell would have 
 pointed out to her, that her " doing,^^ or leaving 
 undone, could have no influence on the matter.
 
 94 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 But tlieir words bore small fruit in lier mind. Her 
 father's religious teaching had the dryness of an 
 accustomed formality to her ears. It had been 
 poured into them before she had sense to com- 
 prehend it, and had grown to be nearly meaning- 
 less, like the everyday salutation we exchange a 
 hundred times, without expecting or thinking of 
 the answer. 
 
 David Powell was certainly neither dry nor 
 formal, but he frightened her. She shut her 
 understanding against the disturbing influence 
 of his words, as she would have pressed her fingers 
 into her pretty ears to keep out the thunder. And 
 then her dream of love had come and filled her life. 
 
 In most of us it wonderfully alters the focus of 
 the mind's eye with its glamour, that dream. To 
 Rhoda it seemed the one thing beautiful and 
 desirable. And — to say all the truth — the pain 
 of mind which she felt, other than that connected 
 with her lover's going away, and which she attri- 
 buted to remorse for the little deceptions and con- 
 cealments she practised, was occasioned almost 
 entirely by the latent dread, lest the time should 
 come when she should sit lonely, looking at the 
 cold ashes of Algy's burnt-out love. For she 
 did mistrust his constancy, although no power 
 would have forced the confession from her. This 
 bhnd, obstinate clinging to the beloved was, 
 perhaps, the only form in which self-esteem ever
 
 A GB ARMING FELLOW. 95 
 
 strongly manifested itself in tliat soft, timid 
 nature. 
 
 There was one person who watched Rhoda more 
 understandingly than her father did, and who had 
 more serious apprehensions on her account. David 
 Powell knew, as did nearly all Whitford by this 
 time, that young Errington was going away ; and 
 lie clearly saw that the change in Rhoda was 
 connected with that departure. He marked her 
 pallor, her absence of mind, her fits of silence, 
 broken by forced bursts of assumed cheerfalness. 
 Her feigning did not deceive him. 
 
 Albeit of almost equally narrow education with 
 Jonathan Maxfield, Powell had gained, in his 
 frequent changes of place and contact with many 
 strange people, a wider knowledge of the world 
 than the Whitford tradesinan possessed. He per- 
 ceived how unlikely it was, that j)eople like the 
 Erringtons should seriously contemplate allying 
 themselves by marriage with " old Max ; " but 
 that was not the worst. To the preacher^s mind, 
 the girl's position was, in the highest degree, 
 perilous ; for he conceived that what would be 
 accounted by the world the happiest possible 
 solution to such a love as Phoda's, would involve 
 nothing less than the putting in jeopardy her 
 eternal welfare. He could not look forward with 
 any hope to a union between Rhoda and such a 
 one as Algernon Errington.
 
 96 A CEAEMING FELLOW. 
 
 "The son is a shallow-liearted, fickle youtli, 
 with, the vanity of a boy and the selfishness of a 
 man ; the mother^ a mere worldliiDg, living in 
 decent godlessness." 
 
 Such was David Powell's judgment. He 
 reflected long and earnestly. What was his 
 calling — ^liis business in life ? To save souls. 
 He had no concern with anything else. He must 
 seek out and help^ not only those who needed 
 him^ but those who most needed him. 
 
 All conventional rules of conduct, all restraining 
 considerations of a merely social or worldly kind, 
 were as threads of gossamer to this man when- 
 soever they opposed the higher commands which 
 he believed to have been laid upon him. 
 
 Jonathan Maxfield was falling away from 
 godliness. He, too evidently, was willing to give 
 up his daughter into the tents of the heathen. 
 The pomps and vanities of this wicked world had 
 taken hold of the old man. Satan had ensnared 
 and bribed him with the bait of worldly ambition. 
 From Jonathan there was no real help to be 
 expected. 
 
 In the little garret-chamber, where he lodged in 
 the house of a widow — one of the most devout of 
 the Methodist congregation — the preacher rose 
 from his knees one midnight, and took from his 
 breast the httle, worn pocket-Bible, which he 
 always carried. A bright cold moon shone in at
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 97 
 
 the uncurtained "window, but its beams did not 
 suffice to enable him to read the small print of 
 his Bible. He had no candle ; but he struck a 
 light with a matchj and, by its brief flare, read 
 these words, on which his finger had fallen as he 
 opened the book : 
 
 " How hast thou counselled him that hath no 
 wisdom ? And how hast thou plentifully declared 
 the thing as it is ? 
 
 " To whom hast thou uttered words ? and whose 
 spirit came from thee ? '' 
 
 He had drawn a lot, and this was the answer. 
 The leading was clear. He would speak openly 
 with Rhoda himself. He would pray and wrestle ; 
 he would argue and exhort. He would awaken 
 her spirit, lulled to sleep by the sweet voice of 
 the tempter. 
 
 It would truly be little less than a miracle, 
 should he succeed by the mere force of his earnest 
 eloquence, in persuading a young girl like Rhoda 
 to renounce her first love. 
 
 But, then, David Powell believed in miracles.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 All that she had heard of the Methodist preacher 
 had taken strong hold of Minnie Bodkin^s imagi- 
 nation. Mr. Diamond's description of him especially 
 delighted her. It was in piquant contrast with 
 her previous notions about Methodists, who were 
 associated in her mind with ludicrous images. 
 This man must be something entirely different — 
 picturesque and interesting. 
 
 But there was a deeper feeling in her mind 
 than the mere curiosity to see a remarkable person. 
 Minnie was not happy; and her unhappiness was 
 not solely due to the fact of her bodily infirmities. 
 She often felt a yearning for a higher spiritual 
 support and comfort than she had ever derived 
 from her father^s teachings. She passed in review 
 the congregation of the parish church, most of 
 whom were known to her, and she asked herself 
 what good result in their lives or characters was 
 produced by their weekly church-going. Was Mrs. 
 Errington more truthful ; Miss Chubb less vain ;
 
 A G HARMING FELLOW. 99 
 
 Mr. Warlock less gloomy ; lier father (for Minnie, 
 in the pride of lier keen intellect, spared no one) 
 less arrogant and overbearing ; she herself more 
 patient, gentle, hopeful, and happy, than if the 
 old bell of St. Chad's were silent, and the worm- 
 eaten old doors shut, and the dusty old pulpit 
 voiceless, for evermore ? Yet there were said to be 
 people on whom religion had a vital influence. 
 She wished she could know such. She could judge, 
 she thought, by seeing and conversing with them, 
 whether or not there were any reality in their 
 professions. Minnie seldom doubted the sufficiency 
 of her own acumen and penetration. 
 
 No ; she was not happy. And might it not 
 be that this Methodist man had the secret of peace 
 of mind ? Was there in truth a physician who 
 could minister to a suffering spirit ? She thought 
 of Powell with the feeling half of shame, half of 
 credulity, with which an invalid hankers after a 
 quack medicine. 
 
 Minnie had been taught to look upon Dissenters 
 in general as quacks, and upon Methodists as arch- 
 quacks. Dr. Bodkin professed himself a staunch 
 Churchman and a hater of " cant.-" He considered 
 that Protestantism, and the right of private judg- 
 ment, had justly reached their extreme limits in 
 the Church of England as by law established. He 
 detested enthusiasm as a dano^erous and disturbina: 
 element in human affairs, and he viewed with
 
 100 A GHABMING FELLOW. 
 
 especial indignation tlie pretensions of unlearned 
 persons to preach and proselytise. Although, he 
 had no leaning to Romanism, he would rather have 
 admitted a Jesuit into his house than a Methodist. 
 Indeed, he sometimes defined the latter to be the 
 Jesuit of dissent — only, as he would take care to 
 point out, a Jesuit without learning, culture, or 
 authority. 
 
 " I can listen to a gentleman, although I may 
 not agree with him,^^ the Doctor would say (albeit, 
 in truth, he had no great gift of listening to 
 anyone who opposed his opinions), "but am I 
 to be hectored and lectured by the cobbler and 
 the tinker ? " 
 
 Minnie had no taste for being hectored or 
 lectured; but it seemed to her that what the cobbler 
 and tinker said, was more important than the fact 
 that it was they who said it. She thought, and 
 pondered, and wondered about the Methodist 
 preacher, and about her chance of ever seeing or 
 hearing more of him, until a thought darted into 
 her mind like an arrow. Little Rhoda ! She was 
 a Methodist born and bred, and knew this preacher, 
 and Minnie would send for little Rhoda. 
 
 When she announced this resolution to her 
 mother, Mrs. Bodkin found several difficulties in 
 the way of its fulfilment. 
 
 " What do you want with her, Minnie ? " 
 I want to see her. Mrs. Errington talks 
 
 cc
 
 A GR ARMING FELLOW. 101 
 
 so much, of her. I remember her coming here 
 with a message once, when she was a child. I 
 recollect only a little fair face and shy eyes, 
 under a coal-scuttle straw bonnet. Don't you, 
 mamma ? And I want to talk to her about 
 several things,'^ added Minnie, with resolute truth- 
 fulness. 
 
 "Oh, dear me ! Wliat will your papa say ? " 
 
 " I don't see how papa can object to my asking 
 this nice little thing to come to me for an after- 
 noon, when he doesn't mind your boring yourself 
 to death with Goody Barton, whose snnff-taking 
 would try the nerves of a rhinoceros, nor forbid 
 my inviting the little Jobsons, who are unplea- 
 sant to look upon, and stupid beyond the wildest 
 flights of imagination. He lets me bave any one 
 I like." 
 
 '^Yes; but you teach the little Jobsons the 
 alphabet, my dear. And that is a charitable 
 work." 
 
 "And Rhoda will amuse me, and I'm sure 
 that is a charitable work ! " 
 
 Minnie would get her own way, of course. She 
 always did. 
 
 That same evening Minnie said to her father, 
 with her frank, bright smile, "Papa, may I not 
 ask Ehoda Maxfield to take tea with me some 
 afternoon ? " 
 
 " Rhoda what ? "
 
 102 A CHAEMING FELLOW. 
 
 }} 
 
 " Little Maxfield, tlie grocer\s daugliter, papa, 
 said Minnie, boldly. 
 
 Mrs. Bodkin bent nervously over lier knitting. 
 
 " What on earth, for ? Why do you want to 
 associate with such folks ? Have you not plenty 
 of friends without ? " 
 
 "No, papa. But I don^t ask her because Vva. 
 in want of friends." 
 
 " Oh, Minnie,^^ said Mrs. Bodkin in the quick, 
 low tones she habitually spoke in, " I'm sure 
 nobody has more friends than you have ! Every- 
 body is so glad to come to you, always.^' 
 
 "You're my friend, mamma. And papa is 
 my friend. Never mind the rest. I want to have 
 little Maxfield to tea." Minnie laughed at herself, 
 the moment after she had said the words, in the 
 tone of a spoiled child. 
 
 Dr. Bodkin crossed and uncrossed his legs, 
 kicked a footstool out of the way, and then got 
 up and stood before the fire. 
 
 "If you want amusement, isn't there Miss 
 Chubb or the McDougalls, or — or plenty more ? " 
 said he, shooting out his upper lip, and frowning- 
 uneasily. 
 
 " Now, papa, can you say in conscience that you 
 find Miss Chubb and the McDougalls perennially 
 amusing ? " Then, with a sudden change of tone, 
 " Besides, you know, the other people are playing 
 their parts in life, and strutting about hither and
 
 A CE ARMING FELLOW. 103 
 
 tiiitlier on the stage, and they find it all more 
 or less interesting. But I — I am like a child at a 
 peep-show. I can but look on, and I sometimes 
 long for a change in the scene and the puppets ! " 
 
 The doctor began to poke the fire violently. 
 "Laura," said he, addi-essing his wife, "that last 
 tea you got is good for nothing. They brought 
 me a cup just now in the study that was absolutely 
 undi'inkable. Is it Smithes tea ? Well, try Max- 
 field's. You can have some ordered when the 
 message is sent for the girl to come here.'' 
 In this way the doctor gave his permission. 
 The next day Minnie despatched her maid, 
 Jane, with the following note to Mr. -M'axfield : — 
 
 " Will Mr. Maxfield allow his daughter Hhoda 
 to spend the afternoon with Miss Bodkin ? Miss 
 Bodkin is an invalid, and cannot often leave her 
 room, and it would give her great pleasure to see 
 Hhoda. The maid shall wait and accompany 
 Rhoda if Mr. Maxfield permits, and Miss Bodkin 
 undertakes to have her sent safely home again in 
 the evening." 
 
 Old Max was scarcely more surprised than 
 gratified on reading this invitation. He stood 
 behind his counter holding the pink perfumed 
 note between his floury finger and thumb, and 
 turning over the contents of it in his mind, 
 whilst his son James served the maid with some 
 tea.
 
 104 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 Miss Minnie was a mucli-lookecl-up-to person- 
 age in Wiiitford. And here was Miss Minnie 
 inviting Rlioda just as tliougli site had been a lady, 
 and sending her own maid for her. This would 
 be Algy's doing, the old man decided. Algy had 
 more sense than his mother. Algy knew that 
 Rhoda was fit to go anywhere, and could hold 
 her own with the best. The young fellow was 
 very thick with Dr. Bodkin^s family, and had, 
 no doubt, talked to Miss Minnie about Rhoda. 
 All sorts of ideas thronged into old Max's head, 
 which, nevertheless, looked as obstinately idealess 
 a one as could well be imagined, as he stood con- 
 ning the pink note, with his grey eyebrows knotted 
 together, and his heavy under-lip pursed up. 
 Perhaps not the feeblest element in his feeling 
 of exultation was the sense of triumph over David 
 Powell. Powell might approve or disapprove, but 
 anyway, he would see that he was wrong in sup- 
 posing the Erringtons did not think Phoda good 
 enough for them ! If they introduced her about 
 among their friends, that meant a good deal, eh, 
 brother David? And that the invitation came by 
 means of the Erringtons, Maxfield felt more and 
 more convinced, the more he thought of it. So 
 many years had passed, and Miss Minnie had 
 taken no notice of Rhoda. Why should she now ? 
 Maxfield was at no loss to find the answer. Maybe 
 old Mrs. Errington had talked for talk's sake more
 
 A CHAEMING FELLOW. 105 
 
 tlian she meant. Maybe her boasting was in order 
 to drive a liard bargain, wlien Algy should come 
 forward and oiJer to make Rhoda a lady. 
 
 The Erringtons^ friends were going little by 
 little to make acquaintance with Rhoda, in view of 
 the promotion that awaited her. Well, Rhoda 
 could stand the test. Rhoda was quite different 
 from the likes of him. 
 
 He called his sister-in-law out of the kitchen, 
 and in a few hurried words told her of the invita- 
 tion, and bade her tell Rhoda to get ready without 
 delay. He cut Betty Grimshaw short in her excla- 
 mations and inquiries. " I've no time to talk to 
 you now,^^ he said. " The maid is waiting. Bid 
 Rhoda clothe herself in her best garments. ■'' 
 
 ''What! her Sunday frock, Jonathan?'^ ex- 
 claimed Betty in shrill surprise. 
 
 " ^Sh ! woman !^' answered Maxfield, and 
 gripped her wrist fiercely. He did not want that 
 family detail to come to the ears of Miss Bodkin^s 
 maid. 
 
 Rhoda was completely bewildered by the invita- 
 tion, and by the breathless haste with which Betty 
 announced it to her, and hurried her preparations. 
 *'But I don't want to go!'' murmured Rhoda 
 plaintively. At the same time she suffered her 
 clothes to be huddled on to her in Aunt Betty's 
 rough fashion. 
 
 " Ah ! tell that to your parent, my dear. I
 
 106 A CR ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 liave tlie mark of his fingers on my wrist at 
 tliis moment ; lie was in sucli a taking, and so 
 — so uncumboundable." This latter was a word of 
 Betty's own invention, and she frequently employed 
 it with an air of great relish. 
 
 The idea of going amongst strangers was more 
 terrible to Rhoda than can easily be conceived by 
 those who have never lived so secluded a life as 
 hers had been. Had she been able to say a word 
 to Algernon, she thought she should have derived a 
 little comfort and support from him. But he and 
 his mother were both from home. 
 
 All the way from her own house to Dr. Bod- 
 kin's, Rhoda uttered no word, except to ask Jane 
 timidly if she were sure Miss Minnie would be 
 alone — quite alone ? 
 
 The gloomy court-yard, and the stone entrance 
 hall of the house struck her with awe. The old 
 man-servant who opened the door seemed to look 
 severely on her. She followed Jane with a beating 
 heart up the wide staircase, whose thick carpet 
 muffled her footsteps mysteriously, and then through 
 a drawing-room full of furniture all covered with 
 grey holland. There was the glitter of gilt picture- 
 frames on the walls, and the shining of a great 
 muTor, and of a large, dark, polished pianoforte at 
 one end of the room. And there was a mingled 
 smell of flowers and cedar-wood, and altogether the 
 impression made upon Rhoda's senses, as she passed
 
 A CHABMING FELLOW. 107 
 
 througli the apartment, was one of perfume, and 
 silence, and vague splendour. She had no time, 
 even if slie liad had self-possession, to examine the 
 details of what seemed to her so grand, for she 
 was led across a passage and into a room opposite 
 to the drawing-room, and found herself in Miss 
 Bodkin's presence. 
 
 The room was Minnie's bedroom, but it did not 
 look like a sleepiag chamber, Rhoda thought. To 
 be sure a little white-curtained bed stood in one 
 corner, but all the toilet apparatus was hidden by a 
 curtain which hung across a recess, and there were 
 bookshelves full of books, and flowers on a stand, 
 and a writing-table. On one side of the fireplace, 
 in which a bright fire blazed, there was a curious 
 sort of long chair, and in it, dressed in a loose 
 crimson robe of soft woollen stuff, reclined Minnie 
 Bodkin. 
 
 Rhoda was, as has been said, extremely sensi- 
 tive to beauty, and Minnie's whole aspect struck 
 her with admiration. The picturesque rich-coloured 
 robe, the delicate white hands relieved upon it, the 
 graceful languor of Minnie's attitude, and the air 
 of refinement in the young lady and her surround- 
 ings, were all intensely appreciated by poor little 
 Rhoda, who stood dumb and blushing before her 
 hostess. 
 
 Minnie, on her part, was a good deal taken by 
 surprise. She welcomed Rhoda with her sweetest
 
 108 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 smile, and thanked lier for coming, and made lier 
 sit down by tlie fire opposite to herself ; and wlien 
 they were alone together, she talked on for some 
 time with a sort of careless good-nature, which, 
 little by little, succeeded in setting Rhoda some- 
 what at her ease. But careless as Minnie^s manner 
 was, she was scrutinising the other girPs looks and 
 ways very keenly. 
 
 " She is absolutely lovely ! " thought Minnie, 
 *' And so graceful, and — and — lady-like ! Yes ; 
 positively that is the word. She is as shy as a 
 fawn, but no more awkward than one. It is not 
 what I expected.^^ 
 
 Perhaps Minnie could scarcely have said what 
 it was that she had expected. Probably a quiet, 
 pretty-looking, well-behaved young person, like 
 her maid Jane. Rhoda was something very dif- 
 ferent, and the young lady was charmed with her 
 new protegee. Only she was obliged to admit, 
 before the afternoon was over, that she had failed 
 in the main object for which she had invited Rhoda 
 to visit her. There was no clear and vivid account 
 of Powell, his teaching, or his preaching, to be got 
 from Rhoda. 
 
 Rhoda could not remember exactly what Mr. 
 Powell said. Rhoda could not say what it was 
 which made all the people cry and grow so excited 
 at his preaching. Rhoda cried herself sometimes, 
 but that was when he talked very pitifully about
 
 A CHjIEMING fellow. 109 
 
 poor people, and little children, and things like 
 that. Sometimes, too, she felt frightened at his 
 preaching, but she supposed she was frightened 
 because she had not got assurance. Many of the 
 congregation had assurance. Yes ; oh yes, the 
 people said Mr. Powell was a wonderful man, and 
 the most awakening preacher who had been in 
 Whitford for fifty years. 
 
 Minnie looked at the simple, serious face, and 
 marked the childlike demureness of manner with 
 which Rlioda declared Mr. Powell to be " an 
 awakening preacher." " I don't think he has 
 awakened you to any very startling extent ! " 
 thought Minnie. " This girl seems to have re- 
 ceived no strong influence from him.'' 
 
 That was in a great measure the fact ; but also, 
 Rhoda was held back from speaking freely, by the 
 conviction that her Methodist phraseology would 
 sound strange, and perhaps absurd, in the young 
 lady's ears. Moreover, it did not help to put her 
 at her ease, that she felt sundry uneasy pricks of 
 conscience for not " bearing testimony " with more 
 fervour. She knew that David Powell would have 
 had her improve the occasion to the uttermost. 
 But how could she run the risk of being disagree- 
 able to Miss Minnie, who was so kind to her ? 
 
 That was the form in which Rhoda mentally 
 put the case. The truth was, hers was not one of 
 those natures to which the invisible ever becomes
 
 110 A C HARMING FELLOW. 
 
 more real and important than tlie visible. It was 
 incomparably more necessary to ber happiness to 
 be in agreeable and smooth relations with the 
 people around her_, than to feel herself in higher 
 spu'itual communion with unseen powers. 
 
 When Minnie at length reluctantly desisted 
 from questioning her on the subject of Powell^ and 
 her chapel-going, and her religious feelings, she 
 was surprised to find how the girl's frigid, con- 
 strained manner thawed, and how her tongue was 
 loosened. 
 
 She chatted freely enough about her visit to 
 Llanryddan in the summer, and about Duckwell 
 Farm, where her half-brother Seth lived, and, 
 above all, about Mrs. Errington. Mrs. Errington 
 had been so good to her, and had taught her, 
 and talked to her; and did Miss Minnie know 
 what a change it was for a lady like Mrs. Errington 
 to live in such a poor place as theirs ? For, 
 although she had the best rooms, of course it was 
 very poor, compared with the castle she was 
 brought up in. About Algernon she said very 
 little ; but it slipped out that she was in the habit 
 of being present when Mr. Diamond came to read 
 with the young gentleman; and then Miss Minnie 
 was very much interested in hearing what Mr, 
 Diamond said to his pupil, and how Rhoda liked 
 Mr. Diamond, and what she thought of him. And 
 when it appeared that Rhoda had thought very
 
 A CRAEMING FELLOW. Ill 
 
 little about liim at all, but cousidered him a very 
 clever, learned gentleman — perhaps a little stiff and 
 grave, but not at all unkind — Miss Minnie smiled 
 to herself and said, " He is a little stiff and grave, 
 Rhoda. Not the kind of person to attract one very 
 much, eh ! '' 
 
 And then tea was brought, and Rhoda sipped 
 hers out of a delicate porcelain cup, like those 
 which Mrs. Errington had in her corner cupboard. 
 And there were some delicious cakes, which Rhoda 
 was quite natural enough to own she liked very 
 much. And then Mrs. Bodkin came in, and sat 
 down beside her daughter ; and finally, at Minnie's 
 request, she took Rhoda into the drawing-room, 
 and played to her on the grand piano. 
 
 "Rhoda likes music, she says, mamma. But 
 she has never heard a good instrument. Do play 
 her a bit of Mozart ! '' 
 
 " I am no great performer, my dear," said Mrs. 
 Bodkin, opening the piano ; " but I keep up my 
 playing on my daughter's account. She is not 
 strong enough to play for herself.'' 
 
 Minnie had her chair wheeled into the di^awino-- 
 room, in order, as she whispered to her mother, to 
 enjoy Rhoda's face when she should hear the 
 music. 
 
 Rhoda sat by and listened, in a trance of de- 
 light, while Mrs. Bodkin made the keys of the 
 instrument delicately sound a minuet of Mozart,
 
 112 A GB ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 and then give forth more volume of tone in " Tli© 
 Heavens are telling.'^ This was different^ indeed, 
 from the tinkling old harpsichord at home ! The 
 music transported her. When it ceased she was 
 breathing quickly, and her eyes were full of tears. 
 " Oh, how beautiful V she faltered out. 
 
 " Why, child, you are a capital audience ! " said 
 Mrs. Bodkin, smiling kindly. 
 
 Then it was time to go home. She was made 
 to promise that she would come again and see 
 Minnie whenever her father would let her. She 
 left Dr. Bodkin^s house in a very different frame of 
 mind from that in which she had entered it. Yet 
 she was as silent on her way home as she had been 
 in the afternoon. 
 
 How happy gentlefolks must be, who always 
 can have music, and flowers, and talk in such soft 
 voices, and are so polite in their manners, and so 
 dainty in their persons ! She could not help con- 
 trasting the coarse, rough ways at home with the 
 smoothness and softness of the life she had had a 
 glimpse of at Dr. Bodkin's. She tried to hold fast 
 in her memory the pleasant sights and sounds of 
 the day. 
 
 In this mood, half- enjoying, half -regretful, she 
 arrived at her father's house to find the little 
 parlour full of people — besides her own family and 
 Powell there were two or three neighbours who
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 113 
 
 joined in tlie exercises — and a prayer-meeting just 
 culminating in a long-drawn hymn, bawled out 
 witli more zeal tlian sweetness by the little 
 assembly. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Ehoda stood witli her liand on tlie parlour-door for 
 a minute or so. Little Sarah, the servant-maid, 
 who had admitted her into the house, and had left 
 the parlour in order to do so — for all the Maxfield 
 household was held bound to join in these weekly 
 prayer- meetings — told her that the hymn would be 
 over directly. Ehoda felt shy of .entering into the 
 midst of the people assembled, and of encountering 
 the questions and expressions of surprise which 
 her unprecedented absence from the evening's 
 devotions would certainly occasion. ■ 
 
 Presently the singing ceased. Rhoda ran as 
 quickly and noiselessly as she could along the 
 passage, and half-way up the stairs. From her 
 post there she heard the neighbours go away, and 
 the street-door close heavily behind them. Now 
 she might venture to slip down. Everyone was 
 gone. The house was quite still. She ran into the 
 parlour, and found herself face to face with David 
 Powell.
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 115 
 
 Her Aunt Betty was piling the hymn-books in 
 their place on the little table where they stood. 
 There was no one else in the room. 
 
 " Where's father ?" asked Rhoda, hastily. Then 
 she recollected herself, and bade Mr. Powell " Good 
 evening.'^ He returned her salutation with his 
 usual gentleness, but with more than his usual 
 gravity. 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Betty Grimshaw, looking 
 round from the books. " It's you, is it, Rhoda ? 
 Your father is gone with Mr. Gladwish to his house 
 for a bit. They have some business together. 
 He'll be back by supper." 
 
 It very seldom happened that Maxfield left his 
 house after dark. Still such a thing had occurred 
 once or twice. Mr. Gladwish, the shoemaker, was 
 a steward of the Methodist society, and Maxfield 
 not unfrequently had occasion to confer with him. 
 Their business this evening was not so pressing 
 bvit that it might have been deferred. But 
 Maxwell did not choose to give Powell an oppor- 
 tunity of private conversation with himseK at that 
 time ; he wanted to see his way clearer before he 
 took the decided step of openly putting himself 
 into opposition with the practice of his brethren, 
 and the advice of the preacher; and he knew 
 Powell well enough to be sure that evasions would 
 not avail with him. Therefore he had gone out as 
 soon as the prayers were at an end.
 
 116 A CRABMING FELLOW. 
 
 "1 must see to the supper/' said Betty, and 
 bustled off without another word. Nothing would 
 have kept her in Mr. Powell's society but the 
 masterful influence of her brother-in-law. She 
 escaped to her haven of refuge, the kitchen, where 
 the moral atmosphere was not too rarefied for the 
 comfortable breathing of ordinary folks. 
 
 David Powell and Rhoda were left alone to- 
 gether. Rhoda made a little half-timid, half- 
 impatient movement of her shoulders. She wished 
 Powell gone, more heartily than she had ever 
 done before in the course of her acquaintance 
 with him. 
 
 Powell stood, with his hands clasped and his 
 eyes cast down, in deep meditation. 
 
 At length Rhoda took courage to murmur a 
 word or two about going to take her cloak off. 
 Aunt Betty would be back presently. If Mr. 
 
 Powell didn't mind for a minute or two She 
 
 was gliding towards the door, when his voice 
 stopped her. 
 
 " Tarry a little, Rhoda," said the preacher, 
 looking up at her with his lustrous, earnest eyes. 
 " I have something on my soul to say to you." 
 
 Rhoda's eyes fell before his, as they habitually 
 did now. She felt as though he could read her 
 heart ; and she had something to hide in it. She 
 did not seat herself, but stood, with one hand on 
 the wooden mantelshelf, looking into the fire. In
 
 A CHAEMING FELLOW. 117 
 
 her other hand she held her straw bonnet by its 
 violet ribbon, and her waving brown hair shone in 
 the firelight. 
 
 " What is it, Mr. Powell ? " she asked. 
 
 She spoke sharply, and her tones smote pain- 
 fully on her hearer. He did not understand that 
 the sharpness in it was born of fear. 
 
 " Rhoda,^' he began, " my spirit has been much 
 exercised on your behalf." 
 
 He paused ; but she did not speak, only bent 
 her head a little lower, as she stood leaning in the 
 same attitude. 
 
 " E;hoda, I fear your soul is unawakened. You 
 are sweet and gentle, as a dove or a lamb is gentle ; 
 but you have not the root of the matter as a 
 Christian hath it. The fabric is built on sand, 
 Fair as it is, a breath may overthrow it. There ia 
 but one sure foundation whereon to lay our lives, 
 and yours is not set upon it." 
 
 " I — I — try to be good," stammered Rhoda, in 
 whom the consciousness of much truth in what 
 Powell was saying, struggled with something like 
 indignation at being thus reproved, with the sense 
 of a painful shock from this jarring discord coming 
 to close the harmonious impressions of her pleasant 
 day, and with an inarticulate dread of what was yet 
 in store for her. " I say my prayers, and — and I 
 don^t think I'm so very wicked, Mr. Powell. No 
 one else thinks I am, but you/'
 
 118 A CHABMING FELLOW. 
 
 " Oh, Ehoda ! Oh, my child ! " His voice grew 
 tender as sad music, and, as he went on speaking, all 
 trace of diffidence and hesitation fell away, and only 
 the sincere purpose of the man shone in him clear 
 as sunlight. "My heart yearns with compassion 
 over you. Are those the words of a believing and 
 repentant sinner ? You ' try ! ' You ' say your 
 prayers ! ' You are ' not so wicked ! ' Rhoda, 
 behold, I have an urgent message for you, which 
 you must hear \" 
 
 She started and looked round at him. He read 
 her thought. " No earthly message, E,hoda, and 
 from no earthly being*. Ah, child, the eager look 
 dies out of your eyes ! Rhoda, do you ever think 
 how much God loveth us ? How much he loveth 
 you, poor perishing little bird, fluttering blindly in 
 the outer darkness of the world ! — that darkness 
 which comprehended not the light from the begin- 
 ning.'^ 
 
 Rhoda's tears were now dropping fast. Her 
 lip trembled as she repeated once more, " I try — I 
 do try to be good," with an almost peevish em- 
 phasis. 
 
 "Nay, Rhoda, I must speak. In His hand all 
 instruments are alike good and serviceable. He 
 has chosen me, even me, to call you to Him. 
 However much you may despise the Messenger, 
 the message is sure, and of unspeakable com- 
 fort."
 
 A CH ABATING FELLOW. 119 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Powell, I don't despise you. Indeed 
 I don't ! I know you mean — I know you are good. 
 But I don't think there's any such great harm in 
 going to see a — a young lady who is too ill to go 
 out. I'm sure she is a very good young lady. I'm 
 sure I do try to he good." 
 
 That was the sum of Ehoda's eloquence. She 
 held fast by those few words in a helpless way, 
 which was at once piteous and ii'ritating. 
 
 ""Are you speaking in sincerity from the very 
 bottom of your heart?" asked Powell, with the 
 invincible, patient gentleness which is born of a 
 strong will. " No, Rhoda ; you know you are not. 
 There is harm in following our own incliaations, 
 rather than the voice of the spirit within us. There 
 is harm in clinging to works — to anything we can 
 do. There is harm in neglecting the service of our 
 Master to pleasure any human being." 
 
 "I did forget that it was prayer-meeting night," 
 admitted Rhoda, more humbly than before. Her 
 natural sweetness of temper was regaining the 
 ascendant, in proportion as her dread of what 
 might be the subject of Powell's reproving admoni- 
 tion decreased. She could bear to be told that it 
 was wrong to visit Minnie Bodkin. She should not 
 like to be told so, and she should refuse to believe 
 it, but she could bear it ; and she began to believe 
 that this visit was held to be the head and front of 
 her offending. Powell's next words undeceived her.
 
 120 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 and startled her back into a paroxysm of mistrust 
 and agitation. 
 
 " But it is not of your absence from prayer to- 
 night tliat I would speak now. You are entangling 
 yourself in a snare. You are laying up stores of 
 sorrow for yourself and others. You are listening 
 to the sweet voice of temptation, and giving your 
 conscience into the hand of the ungodly to ruin and 
 deface ! " He made a little gesture towards the 
 room overhead with his hand, as he said that Rhoda 
 was giving her conscience into the hands of the un- 
 godly. 
 
 " I don't know what you mean, Mr. Powell. 
 And I — I don't think it's charitable to speak so 
 of a person — of persons that you know nothing 
 of." 
 
 She was entirely taken off her guard. Her 
 head felt as if it were whirling round, and the 
 words she uttered seemed to come out of her mouth 
 without her will. Between fear and anger she 
 trembled like a leaf in the wind. She would have 
 fled out of the room, but her strength failed her. 
 Her heart was beating so fast that she could 
 scarcely breathe. Her distress pained Powell to 
 the heart ; pained him so much, as to dismay him 
 with a vivid glimpse of the temptation that con- 
 tinually lay in wait for him, to spare her, and 
 soothe her, and cease from his painful probing of 
 her conscience. " Oh, there is a bone of the old
 
 A CHAB2IING FELLOW. 121 
 
 man in me yet ! " lie thouglit remorsefully. '''Lord, 
 Lord, strengthen me, or I fall I" 
 
 " How hast thou counselled him that hath no 
 wisdom ? And how hast thou plentifully declared 
 the thing as it is ? '' 
 
 The remembrance of the lot he had drawn came 
 into his mind, as an answer to his mental prayer. 
 It was natural that the words should recur to him 
 vividly at that moment, but he accepted their recur- 
 rence as an undoubted inspiration from Heaven. 
 The belief in such direct and immediate communi- 
 cations was a vital part of his faith ; and to have 
 destroyed it would, in great part, have paralysed 
 the impetuous energy, and quenched the burning 
 enthusiasm, which carried away his hearers, and 
 communicated something of his own exaltation to 
 the most torpid spirits. 
 
 He murmured a few words of fervent thanks- 
 giving for the clear leading which had been vouch- 
 safed to him, and without an instant's hesitation 
 addressed the tearfal, trembling girl beside him. 
 '' Listen to me, E,hoda. If it be good for your 
 soul's sake that I lay bare my heart before you, and 
 suffer sore in the doing of it, shall I shrink ? God 
 forbid ! By His help I will plentifully declare the 
 thing as it is. I have watched you, and your feel- 
 ings have not been hid from me. No; nor your 
 fears, and sorrows, and hopes, and struggles. I 
 have read them all so plainly, that I must believe
 
 122 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 the Lord has given me a special insight in your 
 case,, that I may call you unto Him with power. 
 You are suffering, Rhoda, and sorry ; but you have 
 not thrown your burden upon the Lord. You have 
 set up His creature as an idol in your soul, and hav& 
 bowed down and worshipped it. And you fancy, 
 poor unwary lamb, that such love as yours was 
 never before felt by mortal, and that never did 
 mortal so entirely deserve it ! And yoa say in 
 your heart, ^ Lo, this man talks of what he knows, 
 not ! It is easy for him ! ' Well — I tell you, 
 Rhoda, that I too have a heart for human love. I 
 have eyes to see what is fair and lovely; and 
 fancies and desires, and passions. I love — there 
 is a maiden whom I love above all God's creatures. 
 But, by His grace, I have overcome that love, in 
 so far as it perilled the higher love and the higher 
 duty, which I owe to my father in Heaven. I 
 have WTCstled sore, God knoweth. And He hath 
 helped me, as He always will help those who rely, 
 not on their own strength, but on His ! " 
 
 Rhoda was hurried out of herself, carried away 
 by the rush of his eloquence, in whose powerful 
 spell the mere words bore but a small part. Eyes, 
 voice, and gesture expressed the most absolute, 
 self-forgetting enthusiasm. The contagion of his 
 burning sincerity drew a sincere utterance from his 
 hearer. 
 
 " But you talk as if it were a crime ! Does
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 123 
 
 anyone call you wicked and godless, because you 
 tave human feelings ? I never should call you so. 
 And, I believe, we were meant to love/' 
 
 " To love ? Ah, yes, Ehoda ! To love for ever- 
 more, and in a measure we can but faintly conceive 
 here below. The young maiden I love is still 
 dearer to me than any other human being — it may 
 be that even the angels in Heaven know what it is 
 to love one blessed spirit above the rest — but her 
 soul is more precious to me than her beauty, or her 
 sweet ways, or her happiness on eai'th. Oh, Rhoda, 
 look upward ! Yet a little while and the wicked 
 cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest, 
 and there cometh peace unspeakable. This earthly 
 love is but a fleeting show. Can you say that you 
 connect it with your hope of Heaven and your faith 
 in God ? Does he whom you love reverence the 
 things you have been taught to hold sacred ? Is 
 he awakened to a sense of sin ? No ! no ! A 
 thousand times, no ! Rhoda, for his sake — for the 
 sake of that darkened soul, if not for your own — 
 yield not to the temptation which makes you untrue 
 in word and deed, and chills your worship, and 
 weighs down the wings of your spirit ! Tell this 
 beloved one that, although he were the very life- 
 blood of your heart, yet, if he seek not salvation, 
 you will cast him from you.'' 
 
 Rhoda had sunk down, half-crouching, half- 
 kneeling, with her arms upon a chair, and her
 
 124 A CHABMING FELLOW. 
 
 face bowed down upon lier liands. She was 
 crying bitterly^ but silently ; but, at tlie preacber's 
 last words, sbe moved ber shoulders, like one in 
 pain, and uttered a little inarticulate sound. 
 
 Powell bent forward, listening eagerly. " I 
 speak not as one without understanding," he 
 said, after an instant's pause. '^I plentifully 
 declare the thing as it is, and as I know it. Your 
 
 love ! Rhoda, your little twinkling flame, 
 
 compared to the passionate nature in me, is as 
 the faint light of a taper to a raging fire — as a 
 trickling water-brook to the deep, dreadful sea ! 
 Child, child, you know not the power of the Lord. 
 His voice has said to my unquiet soul, ^Be still,' 
 and it obeys Him. Shall He not speak peace to 
 your purer, clearer spirit also ? Shall He not 
 carry you, as a lamb, in His bosom ? Now — it 
 may be even now, as I speak to you, that His 
 angels are about you, moving your heart towards 
 Him. Rhoda, Rhoda, will you grieve those 
 messengers of mercy ? Will you turn away from 
 that unspeakable love ? " 
 
 The girl suddenly lifted her face. It was a 
 tear-stained, wistfully imploring face, and yet it 
 wore a singular expression of timid obstinacy. 
 She was struggling to ward off the impression 
 his words were making on her. She was unwilling, 
 and afraid to yield to it. 
 
 But when she looked up and saw his counten-
 
 A CHAINING FELLOW. 125 
 
 ance so pale, so earnest, without one trace of anger 
 or impatience, or any feeling save profoundest 
 pity, and sweetness, and sorrow, lier heart melted. 
 The right chord was touched. She could not be 
 moved by compassion for herself, but she was 
 penetrated by sorrow for him. 
 
 In an impulse of pitying sympathy she ex- 
 claimed, " Oh, don't be so sorry for me, Mr. 
 Powell ! I will try ! I will do what you say, 
 if " 
 
 The door opened, and her father stood in the 
 room. Rhoda sprang from her knees, rushed past 
 him, and out at the open door. 
 
 " Man, man, what have you done ? " cried 
 Powell, wrinffino- his hands. Then he sat down 
 and hid his face. 
 
 Jonathan Maxfield stood looking at him with 
 a heavy frown. " We must have no more o^ this," 
 he said harshly.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The time wliicli elapsed between Elioda's first visit 
 to Minnie Bodkin and tlie beginning of February 
 — Februaiy, wliicli was to carry Algernon Errington 
 away to tlie great metropolis — was a vexed and 
 stormy one for tlie Maxfield housebold. 
 
 Jonathan Maxfield liad come to a downright 
 quarrel with, the preacher — or to something as near 
 to a quarrel as can be attained, where the violence 
 and vituperation are all on one side — and had 
 ordered Powell out of his house. This was a 
 serious step, and was sure to be searchingly 
 canvassed. Maxfield absented himself from the 
 next class - meeting on the plea of ill -health. 
 There was a general knowledge in the class and 
 throughout the Society that there had been a 
 breach, and many members began to take sides 
 rather warmly. 
 
 Maxfield was not a personally popular man, but 
 lie had considerable influence amongst his fellow 
 Wesleyans ; the influence of wealth, and a strong
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 127 
 
 will, and the long habit of being a leading per- 
 sonage. David Powell, on the other hand, was not 
 heartily liked by many of the congregation. 
 
 The Whitford Methodists had slid into a sleepy, 
 comfortable state of mind in their obscure little 
 corner. They acquired no new members, and lost 
 no old ones. Even the well-devised machinery of 
 Methodism, so calculated to enforce movement and 
 quicken attention, had grown somewhat rusty in 
 Whitford. Frequent change of preachers is a 
 powerful spur to sluggish hearers ; but even this — 
 among the fundamental peculiarities of Methodism 
 — was very seldom applied to the Whitfordians. 
 Circumstances, and their own apathy, had brought 
 it to pass that two elderly preachers — steady, jog- 
 trot old roadsters — had alternately succeeded each 
 other in exhorting and preaching to this quiet flock 
 for several years. There was, besides, Nick Green, 
 foreman to Mr. Gladwish, the shoemaker, who 
 enjoyed the rank of local preacher for a time, but 
 who finally seceded from the main body, and drew 
 with him half-a-dozen or so of the more zealous or 
 excitable worshippers, who subscribed to hire a 
 room over a corn-dealer^s storehouse in Lady Lane, 
 and by the stentorian vehemence of this Sunday 
 devotion there speedily acquired the title of 
 Ranters. 
 
 Into this sleepy, comfortable Whitford society 
 David Powell had burst with his startling energy
 
 128 A CH ARMING FELLOW. 
 ■/ 
 
 and fierj eloquence, and it was impossible to be 
 sleepy and comfortable any longer. No one likes 
 to be suddenly roused from a doze, and Powell bad 
 awakened Wliitford as witb tbe sound of a trumpet. 
 Yet, after the effects of tbe first start and shock 
 bad subsided, the Methodists began to take pride 
 in the attention which their preacher attracted. 
 Their little chapel was crowded. His field- 
 preaching drew throngs of people from all the 
 country side. Instead of being merely an obscure 
 little knot of Dissenters, about whom no outsider 
 troubled himself, they felt themselves to be objects 
 of general observation. Old men, who had heard 
 Wesley preach half a century ago, declared that 
 this Welshman had inherited the mantle of their 
 founder. 
 
 But then came, by no slow or doubtful degrees, 
 the discovery that David Powell had inherited more 
 than the traditional eloquence of John Wesley; 
 and that, like that wonderful man, he spared 
 neither himself nor others in the service of his 
 Master. 
 
 He set up a standard of conduct which dismayed 
 many, even of the leading Methodists, who did not 
 share that exaltation of spirit which supported 
 Powell in his disdain of earthly comforts. And 
 the awful sincerity of his character was found by 
 many to be absolutely intolerable. 
 
 He made a strong effort to revive the early
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 129 
 
 morning services^ which had quite fallen into de- 
 suetude at Whitford. What ! Go to pray in the 
 cold little meeting-house at five o'clock on a winter's 
 morning ? There was scarcely one of the congre- 
 gation whose health would allow of such a pro- 
 ceeding. 
 
 Then his matter-of-fact interpretations of much 
 of the Gospel teaching' was excessively startling. 
 He would coolly expect you to deprive youself not 
 only of superfluities^ but of necessaries — such, for 
 instance, as three meals of flesh-meat a day, which 
 are clearly indispensable for health — in order to 
 give to the poor. 
 
 It must be owned that he practised his own 
 precepts in this respect ; and that he literally gave 
 away all he had, beyond the trifling sum which was 
 needful to clothe him with decency, and to feed 
 him in a manner which the Whitfordians con- 
 sidered reprehensibly inadequate. Such asceticism 
 savoured almost of monkery. It was really wrong. 
 At least it was to be hoped that it was wrong ; 
 otherwise ! 
 
 So the awakening preacher by no means had all 
 his flock on his side, when they suspected him to be 
 in opposition to old Max. 
 
 Jonathan's mind had been, as he expressed it, 
 greatly exercised respecting his daughter. He was 
 drawn different ways by contending impulses. 
 
 To speak to Rhoda openly ; to send her to 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 Duckwell;, out of Algernon's way ; to let things go 
 on as they were going ; (for was not Rhoda's recep- 
 tion by the Bodkins manifestly a preliminary step 
 to her permanent rise in the social scale ?) to talk 
 openly to Algernon, and demand his intentions : all 
 these plans presented themselves to his mind in 
 turn, and each in turn appeared the most desirable. 
 
 Jonathan was not an irresolute man in general, 
 because he never doubted his own perfect com- 
 petency to deal with circumstances as they arose in 
 his life. But now he felt his ignorance. He did 
 not understand the ways of gentlefolks. He might 
 injure his daughter by his attempt to serve her. And 
 although he had fits of self-assertion (during which 
 he made much of the value of his own money and of 
 Rhoda's merits), all did not avail to free his spirit 
 from the subjection it was in to " gentlefolks.'' 
 
 Again, he was urged not to seem to distrust the 
 Erringtons by a strong feeling of opposition to 
 Powell. Powell had warned him against letting 
 Rhoda associate with them, Powell had even gone 
 so far as to reprehend him for having done so. To 
 prove Powell wholly wrong and presumptuous, and 
 himself wholly right and sagacious, was a very 
 powerful motive with Maxfield. 
 
 Then, too, the one soft place in his heart con- 
 tributed, no less than the above-mentioned feelings, 
 to make him pause before coming to a decisive 
 explanation with the Erringtons, which might — yes.
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 131 
 
 lie could not lielp seeing that it miglit — result in a 
 total breacli between liis family and tliem, and this 
 increased liis hesitation as to the line of conduct he 
 should pursue. For the conviction had been grow- 
 ing on him daily that Rhoda's happiness was 
 seriously involved ; and Rhoda^s happiness was a 
 tremendously high stake to play. 
 
 The discussion between himself and Powell did 
 not trouble Maxfield so much. The world — his 
 little world, as important to him as other little 
 worlds are to the titled, or the rich, or the 
 fashionable, or the famous — supposed him to be 
 greatly chagrined and exercised in spirit on this 
 account. And people sympathised with him, or 
 blamed him, according to their prejudices, their 
 passions, or — sometimes — their convictions. But 
 the truth was, old Max cared little about being at 
 odds with the preacher, or with the congregation, 
 or with both. 
 
 He had been an important personage among the 
 Whitford Methodists, all through the old comfort- 
 able days of sleepy concord. And was he now to 
 become a less important personage in these new 
 times of " awakening ? " Better war than an igno- 
 minious peace ! 
 
 Nay, there came at last to be a talk of expelling 
 him from the Methodist Society, unless he would 
 confess his fault towards the preacher, and amend 
 it. Maxfield had no lack of partisans in Whitford,
 
 132 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 as has been stated ; but then there was the super- 
 intendent ! In those days the superintendent (or, 
 as some old-fashioned Methodists continued to call 
 him, in the original Wesleyan phrase, the assistant) 
 of the circuit in which Whitford was situated, was a 
 man of great zeal and sincere enthusiasm. 
 
 For those unacquainted with the mechanism 
 of Methodism, it may be well briefly to state 
 what were this person's functions. 
 
 Long before John Wesley's death, the whole 
 country was divided into circuits, in which the 
 itinerant preachers made their rounds ; and of each 
 circuit the whole spiritual and temporal business 
 — so far as they were connected with the aims 
 and interests of Methodism — was under the 
 regulation of tho assistant (afterwards styled the 
 superintendent), whose office it was to admit or 
 expel members, take lists of the society at Easter, 
 hold quarterly meetings, visit the classes quarterly, 
 preside at the love-feasts, and so forth. 
 
 The period for the superintendent's next visit 
 to Whitford was rapidly approaching. Maxfield 
 weighed the matter, and tried to forecast the result 
 of a formal reference of the disagreement between 
 himself and Powell to this man's judgment. Had 
 this superintendent, Mr, John Bateson by name, 
 been a Whitford man, one of the old, comfortable, 
 narrow-minded tradesmen over whom " old Max " 
 had exercised supremacy in things Methodistical
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 133 
 
 for years, Maxfield would liave felt no doabt but 
 that tlie matter would have ended in an unctuous 
 admonition to Powell to moderate his unseemly- 
 excess of zeal, and in the establishment of himself, 
 more firmly than ever, in his place as leader of the 
 congregation. 
 
 But Mr. Bateson could not be relied on to 
 take this sensible view. He was one of the new- 
 fangled, upsetting, meddling sort, and would 
 doubtless declare David Powell to have been per- 
 forming his bounden duty, in being instant in 
 season and out of season. 
 
 " So that," thought Jonathan, " I should not 
 be master in my own house ! " 
 
 And if he included in the notion of being 
 master in his own house the power of shutting 
 out his fellow Methodists — preacher and all — 
 from the knowledge of his most private family 
 affairs, the conclusion was a pretty just one. More- 
 over, it was one to which the very constitution of 
 Methodism pointed a iwiori. But old Maxfield 
 had never in his life been brought into collision 
 with any one who carried out his principles to 
 their legitimate and logical results, as did David 
 Powell. 
 
 Maxfield's creed was a thing to take out and 
 air, and acknowledge at chapel, and prayer- 
 meetings, and field-preachings, and such like 
 occasions ; whilst his practice was — well, it cer-
 
 134 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 tainly was not " too briglit or good for liuman 
 nature's daily food." 
 
 David Powell's uncompromising interpretation 
 of certain precepts was intolerable to many besides 
 Maxfield, But the majority of the Wliitford 
 Methodists looked forward to Powell's removal to 
 another sphei-e of action. His stay among them 
 had already been longer than was usual with the 
 itinerant preachers ; but it was understood to have 
 been specially prolonged, in consequence of the 
 abundant fruits brought forth by his ministration 
 in Whitford. Still he would go, sooner or later, 
 and then there would be a relaxation of the stronsr 
 tension in which men's minds and consciences had 
 been strained by the strange influence of this 
 preacher. 
 
 But old Maxfield thought it very probable 
 that, before leaving Whitford, the preacher might 
 compass his (Maxfield's) expulsion from the Me- 
 thodist body. 
 
 Then he took a great resolution. 
 
 One Sunday, Jonathan, James, and Rhoda Max- 
 field, together with Elizabeth Grimshaw, were seen 
 at the morning service in the abbey church of St. 
 Chad's, and again in the afternoon. 
 
 Dr. Bodkin himself stared down from his pulpit 
 at the Methodist family. Those of the conareo-a- 
 tion to whom they were known by sight — and 
 these were the great majority — found their devo-
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 135 
 
 tions quite disturbed by tliis unexpected addition 
 to their number. 
 
 The Maxfields kept their eyes on their prayer- 
 books, and, outwardly, took no heed of the 
 attention they excited. Old Jonathan and his 
 son James looked pretty much as usual; Rhoda 
 trembled, and blushed, and looked painfully shy 
 whenever the forms of the service required her 
 to rise, so as to bring her face above the pew 
 (those were the days of pews) and within easy 
 range of the curious eyes of the congregation. 
 
 But Betty Grimshaw held her head aloft_, and 
 uttered the responses in a loud voice, and without 
 glancing at her book, as one to whom the Church 
 of England service was entirely familiar. Betty 
 was heartily delighted with the family conversion 
 from the errors of Methodism, and supported her 
 brother-in-law in it with great warmth. Her 
 Methodism had, in truth, been a mere piece of 
 conformity, for "peace and quietness' sake,'' as 
 she avowed with much candour. And she was 
 fond of saying that she had been " bred up to 
 the Church ; " by which phrase it must not be 
 understood that Betty intended to convey to her 
 hearers that she had entered on an ecclesiastical 
 career. 
 
 If the sensation created in the abbey church by 
 the Maxfields' appearance there was great, the sur- 
 prise and excitement caused by their absence from
 
 136 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 tlie Methodist cliapel was still greater. By tlie 
 afternoon of that same Sunday it was known to all 
 the Wesleyans that old Max, with his family, had 
 been seen at St. Chad's. No one deemed it strange 
 that the whole family should have seceded in a 
 body from their own place of worship. It appeared 
 quite natural to all his old acquaintances that, 
 whither Jonathan Maxfield went, his son, and his 
 daughter, and his sister-in-law should follow him. 
 It is probable that, had he turned Jew or Moham- 
 medan, they would equally have taken it for 
 granted that his conversion involved that of the 
 rest of his family, which opinion was certainly 
 complimentary to old Max's force of character. 
 
 And such force of character as consists in pur- 
 suing one's own way single-mindedly, old Max 
 undoubtedly possessed. A good, solid belief in 
 oneself, tempered by an inability to see more than 
 one side of a question, will cleave its way through 
 the world like a wedge. We have seen, however, 
 that into Maxfield' s mind a doubt of himself on 
 one subject had entered. And, as doubt will do, 
 it weakened his action very considerably as re- 
 garded that subject; but on all other matters he 
 was himself, and perhaps infused an extra amount 
 of obstinacy and self-assertion into his behaviour, 
 as though to counterbalance the one weak point. 
 
 Towards his old co-religionists he showed him- 
 self inflexible. Mr. Bateson, the superintendent.
 
 A CSABMING FELLOW. 137 
 
 duly arrived, but Jonatlian refused to see him, and 
 "walked out of liis shop wlien the superintendent 
 walked into it. Maxfield was grimly triumphant, 
 and kept out of the reach of any expression of 
 displeasure from Mr. Bateson, if displeasure he 
 felt. 
 
 His defection was undoubtedly a blow to the 
 Methodist community in Whitford. And much 
 indignation, not loud but deep, was aroused in con- 
 sequence against Powell, who was looked upon as 
 the prime cause of it. What if the preacher did 
 possess awakening eloquence and burning zeal to 
 save sinners ? Here was Jonathan Maxfield, a 
 warm man, a respectable and a thriving man, an 
 ancient pillar of the Society, lost to it beyond recall 
 by Powell's means ! 
 
 And by whom did Powell seek to replace such a 
 man as old Max ? By Pichard Gibbs, the groom 
 — brother of Minnie Bodkin^s maid — who had 
 hitherto enjoyed a reputation for unmitigated 
 blackguardism; by Sam Smith, the cobbler, once 
 drunken, now drunken no longer; by stray va- 
 grants who were converted at his field-preaching, 
 and by the poorest poor, and wretchedest wretched, 
 generally ! 
 
 And the worst of it was, that one could not 
 openly find fault with all this. David Powell would, 
 with mild yet fervent earnestness, quote some New 
 Testament text, which stopped one's mouth, if it
 
 138 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 didn^t change one's opinion. As if the words 
 ought to be interpreted in that literal way ! Well, 
 he would go away before long; that was some 
 comfort. 
 
 The period during which this rift in the Me- 
 thodist community was widening, was a time of 
 peculiar pleasantness to some of our Whitford 
 acquaintance. Of these was Minnie Bodkin. By 
 degrees the habit had established itself among a 
 few of her friends, of meeting every Saturday 
 afternoon in Dr. Bodkin's drawing-room. 
 
 Mr. Diamond usually made one at these meet- 
 ings. Saturday was a half -holiday at the G-rammar 
 School, and he was thus at leisure. He had grown 
 more sociable of late, and Mrs. Errington was con- 
 vinced that this change was entirely owing to her 
 advice. There was Algernon, whose sparkling 
 spirits made him invaluable. There was Mrs. 
 Errington, who was made welcome, as other mothers 
 sometimes are, in right of the merits of her off- 
 spring. There was Miss Chubb very often. There 
 was the Eeverend Peter Warlock, nearly always. 
 And of all people in the world there would often 
 be seen Rhoda Maxfield, modestly ensconced behind 
 Minnie's couch, or half hidden by the voluminous 
 folds of Mrs. Errington's gown. 
 
 No sooner had Mrs. Errington heard of E-hoda's 
 first visit to Dr. Bodkin's house, than she took all 
 the credit of the invitation to herself. She decided
 
 A GEAmilNG FELLOW. 139 
 
 tiiat it must certainly be due to her report of 
 Rhoda. And — partly because she really wished to 
 be kind to the girl, partly because it seemed pretty 
 clear that Minnie was resolved to have her own 
 way about seeing more o£ her new protegee, and 
 Mrs. Errington was minded that this should come 
 to pass with her co-operation, so as to retain her 
 post of first patroness — ^the good lady fostered the 
 intimacy by all means in her power. The Italians 
 have a proverb, to the effect that there are persons 
 who will take credit to themselves for the sun- 
 shine in July. Mrs. Errington would compla- 
 cently have assumed the merit of the whole solar 
 system. 
 
 Now, at these Saturdays, there grew and 
 strengthened themselves many conflicting feelings, 
 and hopes, and illusions. It was a game at cross 
 purposes, to which none of the players held the 
 key except Algernon. 
 
 That young gentleman's perceptions, unclouded 
 and uncoloured by strong feeling, were pretty clear 
 and accurate. However, the period of his depar- 
 ture was fast approaching, and, ''after rue, the 
 deluge,^' might be taken to epitomise his senti- 
 ments in view of possible complications which 
 threatened to arise among his own intimate circle 
 of friends. To whatever degree the time might 
 seem to be out of joiut, Algy would never torment 
 himself with the fancy that he was born to set it
 
 140 A CEAEMING FELLOW. 
 
 riglit. '' If there is to be a mess, I am better out 
 of it/' was bis ingenuous reflection. 
 
 Meanwbile, whatever tbougbts migbt be flitting 
 about under bis brigbt curls, notbing, save tbe 
 most winning good-bumour, tbe most insouciant 
 bilarity, ever peeped for an instant out of bis 
 frank, sbining eyes. And tbe weeks went by, and 
 February was at band.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 In liow few cases would the power to " see oursel's 
 as ithers see us ^' be other than a very malevolent 
 and wicked fairj-like gift ! And, perhaps, the 
 discovery of the real reasons why our friends like 
 us, would not be the least mortifying part of the 
 revelation. 
 
 Now, the Bodkins liked Miss Chubb. But they 
 did not like her for her manners, her knowledge of 
 the usages of polite society, her highly respectable 
 clerical connections, or the little gummed-down 
 curls on her forehead ; on all of which Miss Chubb 
 prided herself. 
 
 Dr. Bodkin liked her principally because she 
 was an old acquaintance. It pleased him to see 
 various people, and to do and say various things 
 daily, often for no better reason than that he had 
 seen the same people, and done and said the same 
 things yesterday, and throughout a long, back- 
 ward-reaching chain of yesterdays. Mrs. Bodkin
 
 142 A CE ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 liked lier liecause slie was good-natured, and 
 neither strong-minded nor strong-willed enough 
 to domineer over her, Minnie liked her because 
 she found her peculiarities very amusing. 
 
 "Miss Chubb has the veriest rag-bag of a 
 mind/^ said Minnie, " and pulls out of it, every 
 now and then, unexpected scraps of ignorance as 
 other folks display bits of knowledge, in the 
 oddest way ! " She could often endure to listen 
 to Miss Chubb's chatter, when the talk of wiser 
 people irritated her nerves. And Minnie would 
 speak with Miss Chubb on many subjects more 
 unreservedly than she did with any other of her 
 acquaintances. 
 
 " What Minnie Bodkin can find in that affected 
 old maid, to have her so much with her when she 
 is so reserved and stand-offish to — to quite superior 
 persons, and nearer her own age, I am at a loss to 
 understand !" Violet McDougall would say, tossing 
 her thin spiral ringlets. And Rose, the bitterer of 
 the two, would make answer, raspingly : " Why, 
 Miss Chubb toadies her, my dear. That's the 
 secret. Poor Minnie ! Of course one wishes to 
 make every allowance for her afflicted state ; but 
 there are limits. Miss Chubb is almost a fool, and 
 that suits poor dear Minnie's domineering spirit." 
 
 Unconscious of these and similar comments, 
 Minnie and Miss Chubb continued to be very good 
 friends.
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 143 
 
 There sat Miss Chubb in Dr. Bodkin's drawing- 
 room one Saturday about noon ; ber round face 
 beaniing, and ber fat fingers covered with huge 
 old-fasbioned rings, busily engaged in some brigbt- 
 coloured worsted work. She bad come early, and 
 was to bave luncbeon witb Mrs, Bodkin and Minnie, 
 and was a good deal elated by tbe privilege, 
 although she did ber best to repress any ebul- 
 lition of her good spirits, and to assume the lan- 
 guishing air which she chose to consider peculiarly 
 genteel. 
 
 Minnie and Miss Chubb were alone. Mrs. 
 Bodkin was '^busy." Mrs. Bodkin was nearly 
 always " busy." She superintended the machinery 
 of her household very effectively. But she was 
 one of those persons whose labours meet with 
 scant recognition. Dr. Bodkin had a vague idea 
 that his wife liked to be fussing about in kitchen 
 and store-room, and that she did a great deal more 
 than was necessary, but, " then, you see, it amused 
 her." He very much Hked order, punctuality, 
 economy, and good cookery; and since it "amused" 
 Laura to supply him with these, the combination 
 was at once fortunate and satisfactory. 
 
 "My dear Minnie," said Miss Chubb, raising 
 her eyes to the ceiling with a languishing glance, 
 which would have been more effective had it not 
 been invariably accompanied by an odd wrinkling 
 up of the nose, "did you ever, in all your days
 
 144 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 hear of anytliing so extraordinary as the appear- 
 ance of those Methodist people at church on 
 Sunday ? " 
 
 " It was strange." 
 
 " Strange ! My dear love^ it was amazing. 
 But it ought to be a matter of congratulation to 
 us all, to see Dissenters embracing the canons of 
 the Church ! And the Methodists, especially, are 
 such dreadful people. I believe they think nothing 
 of foaming at the mouth, and going into convul- 
 sions, in the open chapel. I wonder if those Max- 
 fields felt anything of the kind on Sunday? It 
 would have been a terrible thing, my dear, if they 
 had had to be carried out on stretchers, or any- 
 thing of that sort. What would Mr. Bodkin have 
 said?" 
 
 ''I don^t think there's any fear of papa's 
 sermons throwing anybody into convulsions." 
 
 " Of course not, my dear child. Pray don't 
 imao-ine that I hinted at such a thing. No, no; 
 Mr. Bodkin is ever gentlemanlike, ever soothing and 
 composing, in the pulpit. But people, you know, 
 who have been used to convulsions — they really 
 might not be able to leave them oif all at once. 
 You may smile, my dear Minnie ; but I assure you 
 that such things have been known to become 
 quite chronic. And, once a thing gets to be 
 chronic " 
 
 Miss Chubb left her sentence unfinished, as she
 
 A GEAB^IING FELLOW. 145 
 
 ofteu did; but remained with an expressive coun- 
 tenance, which suggested horrible results from 
 '^ things getting to be chronic." 
 
 " It seems an odd caprice of Fate," said 
 Minnie, who had been pursuing her own reflec- 
 tions, " that, no sooner do I make E,hoda Maxfield's 
 acquaintance, for the sole reason that she is a 
 Methodist, than she and her family turn into 
 orthodox church people." 
 
 " People will say you converted her, my 
 dear." 
 
 " I daresay they will, as it isn't true." 
 
 " Now, I wonder who did convert them." 
 
 " If you care to know, I think I can tell you 
 that the real reason why Maxfield left the Wes- 
 leyans, was a quarrel he had with their preacher. 
 My maid Jane has a brother who belongs to 
 the Society ; and he gave her an account of the 
 matter." 
 
 " Dear, dear ! You don't say so ! Of course 
 the preacher is furious ? Those kind of Ranters 
 are very violent sometimes. I remember, when I 
 was quite a girl, a man on a tub, who used to 
 scream and use the most di-eadful language. So 
 much so, that poor papa forbade our going within 
 earshot of him." 
 
 "No; David Powell is not furious. I am told 
 that he astonished some of the more bigoted of his 
 flock, by reminding them that they ought to have 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 charity enougli to believe tliat a man may worsliip 
 acceptably in any Christian community." 
 
 " Did be really ? Now, that positively was very 
 proper of the man, and very right. Quite right, 
 indeed." 
 
 " So that I think we may assume that he is on 
 the road to Heaven, Methodist though he be." 
 
 " Oh, Minnie ! " 
 
 " Does that shock you. Miss Chubb ? " 
 
 "Well, my dear, yes; it does, rather. My 
 family has been connected with the Church for 
 generations. And — one doesn^t like to hear Dr. 
 Bodkin^s daughter talk of being sure that a Dis- 
 senter is on the road to Heaven." 
 
 Minnie lay back on her sofa, and looked at Miss 
 Chubb complacently bending over her knitting. 
 Gradually the look of amused scorn on Minnie^s face 
 softened into melancholy thoughtfulness. She 
 wondered how David Powell would have met such 
 an observation as Miss Chubb's. He had to deal 
 with even narrower and more ignorant minds than 
 hers. What method did he take to touch them? 
 To Minnie it all seemed very hopeless, so long as 
 men and women continued to be such as those 
 she saw around her. And yet this preacher did 
 move them very powerfully, li she could but 
 meet him face to face, and have speech with 
 him ! 
 
 There was one person to whom she was strongly
 
 A CRAMMING FELLOW. . 147 
 
 impelled to detail her perplexities, and to express 
 her fluctuating feelings and opinions on more 
 momentous subjects than she had ever yet spoken 
 with him upon. But there were a hundred little 
 counter impulses pulling against this strong one, 
 and holding it in check. 
 
 Miss Chubb's voice broke in upon her medita- 
 tions by uttering loudly the name that was in 
 Minnie's mind. 
 
 '^My dear, I think it^s quite a case with Mr. 
 Diamond.^' 
 
 Minnie's heart gave a great bound; and the 
 deep, burning blush which was so rare and meant 
 so much with her, covered her face from brow 
 to chin. Miss Chubb's eyes were fixed on her 
 knitting. When, after a short pause, she raised 
 them to seek some response, Minnie was quite 
 pale again. She met Miss Chubb's gaze with 
 bright, steady eyes, a thought more wide open 
 than usual. 
 
 "How do you mean ^a case'?" she asked 
 carelessly. 
 
 " I mean, my dear, a case of falling, or having 
 fallen, in love." 
 
 The white lids drooped a httle over the beau- 
 tiful eyes, and a look, partly of pleasure, partly of 
 fluttered surprise, swept over Minnie's face, as the 
 breeze sweeps over a corn-field, touching it with 
 shifting lights and shadows.
 
 148 A CH ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 " What nonsense ! " she said, in a little uncertain 
 voice, unlike her usual clear tones. 
 
 "Now, my dear Minnie, I must beg to differ. 
 I might give up my judgment to you on a point 
 of — of — " (Miss Chubb hesitated a long time 
 here, for she found it extremely difficult to think of 
 any subject on which she didn't know best) — " on 
 a point of the dead languages, for instance. But 
 on this point I maintam that I have a certain 
 penetration and coo-doyl. And I say that it is a 
 case with Mr, Diamond and little Rhoda — at least 
 on his side. And of course she would be ready to 
 jump out of her skin for joy, only I don't think 
 the idea has entered into her head as yet. How 
 
 should it, in her station ? Of course . But as 
 
 to him ! If I ever read a human countenance 
 
 in my life, he admires her — oh, over head and ears ! 
 To see him staring at her from behind your sofa 
 
 when she sits by Mrs. Errington ! No, no,. 
 
 my dear; depend upon it, I am correct. And I 
 don't know but what it might do very well, be- 
 cause, although educated, Mr. Diamond is a man of 
 no birth. And the girl is pretty, and will have all 
 old Max's savings. So that really " 
 
 Thus, and much more in the same disjointed 
 fashion, Miss Chubb. 
 
 Minnie felt like one who is conscious of having 
 swallowed a deadly but slow poison. For the 
 present there is no pain ; only a horrible watchful
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 149 
 
 appreliension of tlie moment wlieii the pain shall 
 begin. 
 
 Some faculties of lier mind seemed cm-iously 
 numb. But the active part of it accepted the truth 
 oi what had been said, unhesitatingly. 
 
 Miss Chubb paused at last breathless. 
 
 " You look fagged, Minnie,^^ she said. " Have 
 I tired you ? Mrs. Bodkin will scold me if I 
 have.^^ 
 
 " No ; you have not tired me. But I think I 
 will go and be quiet in my own room. Tell 
 mamma I don^t want any lunch. Please ring for 
 Jane." 
 
 Mrs. Bodkin came into the room in her quick, 
 noiseless way. She had heard the bell. Minnie 
 reiterated her wish to be wheeled into her own 
 room, and left quiet. She spoke briefly and 
 peremptorily, and her desire was promptly com- 
 phed with. 
 
 "I never cross her, or talk to her much when 
 she is not feeling well," whispered Mrs. Bodkin 
 to Miss Chubb ; thereby checking a lively stream 
 of suggestions, regrets, and inquiries which the 
 spinster was beginning to pour forth in her most 
 girlish manner. 
 
 " There, my darling," said her mother, pre- 
 paring to close the door of Minnie's room softly. 
 " If any of the Saturday people come I shall say 
 you are not well enough to see them to-day."
 
 150 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 ''No!" cried Minnie, witli sharp decisiveness. 
 " I wish to come into the drawing-room by-and- 
 by. Don't send them away. It will be Algy^s 
 last Saturday. I mean to come into the drawing- 
 
 room/'
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Minnie, during the hour's quiet solitude which was 
 hers before the Saturday guests begau to arrive, 
 got her thoughts into some clear order, and began 
 to look things in the face. She did not look far 
 ahead; merely kept her attention fixed on that 
 which the next few hours might hold for her. She 
 pictured to herself what she would say, and even 
 how she would look. Cost what it might, no ti-ace 
 of her real feelings should appear. Her heart 
 might bleed, but none should see the wound. She 
 could not yet tell herself how deep the hurt was. 
 She would not look at it, would not probe it. Not 
 yet ! That should be afterwards ; perhaps in the 
 long dim hours of her sleepless night. Not yet ! 
 
 She put on her panoply of pride, and braced up 
 her nerves to a pitch of strained excitement. And 
 then, after all, the effort seemed to have been 
 wasted ! There was no fight to be fought, no 
 struggle to be made. The social atmosphere
 
 152 A CHAEMING FELLOW. 
 
 among her visitors that Saturday afternoon was as 
 mildly relaxing as tlie breath of a misty woodland 
 landscape in autumn, and Minnie felt her Spartan 
 mood melting beneath it. 
 
 Whether it were due to the influence of Dr. 
 Bodkin's presence (the doctor usually spent the 
 Saturday half-holiday in his study, preparing the 
 morrow's sermon ; or, it may be, occasionally read- 
 ing the newspaper, or even taking a nap) — or 
 whether it were the shadow of Algernon's approach- 
 ing departure, the fact was that the little company 
 appeared depressed, and attuned to melancholy. 
 
 Ehoda Maxfield was not there. She had 
 privately told Algy that she could not bear to be 
 present among his friends on that last Saturday. 
 " They will be saying ' Good-bye ' to you, and — and 
 all that," said the girl, with quivering lips. "And 
 I know I should burst out crying before them all." 
 Whereupon Algy had eagerly commended her pru- 
 dent resolution to stay at home. 
 
 No other of the accustomed frequenters of the 
 Bodkins' drawing-room was absent. The doctor's 
 was the only unusual presence in the little assembly. 
 He stood in his favourite attitude on the hearth, 
 and surveyed the company as if they had been a 
 class called up for examination. Mr. Diamond sat 
 beside Miss Bodkin's sofa, and was, perhaps, a 
 thought more grave and silent than usual. 
 
 Minnie lay with half-closed eyes on her sofa.
 
 A CEAUMING FELLOW. 153 
 
 and felt almost ashamed of the proud resolutions 
 she had been making. It seemed very natural to 
 be silently miserable. No one appeared to expect 
 her to be anything else. If she had even begun to 
 cry, as Miss Chubb did when Algernon went to the 
 piano and sang " Auld Lang Syne/' it would have 
 excited no wondering remark. 
 
 Pathos was not Algy's forte in general, but 
 circumstances gave a resistless eifect to his song. 
 The tears ran down Miss Chubb's cheeks, so 
 copiously, as to imperil the httle gummedt curls that 
 adorned her face. Even the Reverend Peter War- 
 lock, who was a little jealous of Algy's high place 
 in Miss Bodkin's good graces, exhibited consider- 
 able feeling on this occasion, and joined in the 
 chorus " For an — auld la — ang syne, my friends," 
 with his deep bass voice, which had a hollow tone 
 like the sound of the wind in the belfry of St. 
 Chad's. 
 
 Here Mrs. Errington's massive placidity became 
 useful. She broke the painful pause which ensued 
 upon the last note of the song, by asking Dr. 
 Bodkin, in a sonorous voice, if he happened to be 
 acquainted with Lord Seely's remarkably brilliant 
 pamphlet on the dog-tax. 
 
 "No," replied the doctor, shaking his head 
 slowly and emphatically, as who should say that he 
 challenged society to convict him of any such 
 acquaintance.
 
 154 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 It did not at all matter to Mrs. Errington 
 whether lie had or had not read the pamphlet in 
 question, the existence of which, indeed, had only 
 come to her own knowledge that morning, by the 
 chance inspection of an old newspaper that had 
 been hunted out to wi-ap some of Algy^s belongings 
 in. What the good lady had at heart was the 
 introduction of Lord Seely's name, in whose praise 
 she forthwith began a flowing discourse. 
 
 This brought Miss Chubb, figuratively speaking, 
 to her legs. She always a little resented Mrs. 
 Errington^s aristocratic pretensions, and was accus- 
 tomed to oppose to them the fashionable reminis- 
 cences of her sole London season, which had been 
 passed in an outwardly smoke-blackened and in- 
 wardly time-tarnished house in Manchester Square, 
 whereof the upper floors had been hired furnished for 
 a term by the Right Reverend the Bishop of Plum- 
 bunn. And the bishop's lady had " chaperoned " 
 Miss Chubb to such gaieties as seemed not objec- 
 tionable to the episcopal mind. As the rose-scent 
 of youth still clung to the dry and faded memories 
 of that tune, Miss Chubb always recuiTed to them 
 with pleasure. 
 
 Having first carefully wiped away her tears by the 
 method of pressing her handkerchief to her eyes 
 and cheeks as one presses blotting-paper to wet 
 ink, so as not to disturb the curls. Miss Chubb 
 plunged, with happy flexibility of mood, into the
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. " 155 
 
 midst of a rout at Lady Tubville's^ nor paused until 
 slie liad minutely described five of the dresses 
 worn on that occasion, including her own and tlio 
 bishopess^s, from shoe to head-dress. 
 
 Mrs. Erriagton came in ponderously. " Tub- 
 ville ? I don^t know the name. It isn't in 
 Debrett ? '' 
 
 " And the supper ! " pursued Miss Chubb, 
 ignoring Debrett. " Such refinement, together 
 with such luxury — ! It was a banquet for Lucre- 
 tius.'' 
 
 '' What, what ? " exclaimed the doctor in his 
 sharp, scholastic key. He had been conversing in 
 a low voice with Mr. Warlock, but the Latin name 
 caught his ear. 
 
 " I am speaking of a supper. Dr. Bodkin, at the 
 house of a leader of tong. I never shall forget it. 
 Although I didn't eat much of it, to be sure. Just 
 a sip of champagne, and a taste of — of — What 
 do you call that delightful thing, with the French 
 name, that they give at ball suppers ? Vo — vo — ■ 
 What is it?" 
 
 " Vol-au-vent ? " suggested Algy, at a ven- 
 ture. 
 
 "Ah! vol-o-voo. Yes; you will excuse my 
 correcting you, Algernon, but that is the French 
 pronunciation. Just one taste of vol-o-voo was all 
 that I partook of ; but the elegance — the plate, the 
 exotic bouquets, and the absolute paraphernalia of
 
 156 A C HARMING FELLOW. 
 
 wax-liglits ! It was a scene for young Romance to 
 gloat on ! " 
 
 " But what hacl Lucretius to do with it ? " per- 
 sisted the doctor. 
 
 Miss Chubb looked up, and shook her forefinger 
 archly. 
 
 " Now, Dr. Bodkin, I will not be catechised ; 
 you can't give me an imposition, you know. And 
 as to Lucretius, beyond the fact that he was a 
 Roman emperor, who ate and drank a great deal, 
 I honestly own that I know very little about 
 him." 
 
 This time the doctor was effectually silenced. 
 He stood with his eyes rolling from Mr. Diamond 
 to the curate, and from the curate to Algy, as 
 though mutely protesting against the utterance of 
 such things under the very roof of the grammar 
 school. But he said not a syllable. 
 
 Mr. Diamond had looked at Minnie with an 
 amused smile, expecting to meet an answering 
 glance of amusement at Miss Chubb's speech. But 
 the fringed eyelids hung heavily over the beautiful 
 dark eyes, which were wont to meet his own with 
 such quick sympathy. Mr. Diamond felt a little 
 shock of disappointment. Without giving himself 
 much account of the matter, he had come to con- 
 sider Miss Bodkin and himself as the only two 
 persons in the little coterie who had an intellectual 
 point of view in common on many topics. The
 
 A CEABMING FELLOW. 157 
 
 circumstance that Miss Bodkin was a very beautiful 
 and interesting" woman, certainly added a flattering 
 charm to this communion of minds. He had almost 
 grown to look upon her attention and sympathy as 
 peculiarly his own — things to which he had a right. 
 And the unsmiling, listless face which now met his 
 gaze, gave him the same blank feeling that we ex- 
 perience on finding a well-known window, accus- 
 tomed to present .gay flowers to the passers-by, all 
 at once grown death-like with a down-drawn 
 ghastly blind. 
 
 Mr. Diamond looked at Minnie again, and was 
 struck with the expression of suffering on her face. 
 He knew she disliked being condoled with about 
 her health ; so he said gently, " I think Errington^s 
 departure is depressing us all. Even Miss Bodkin 
 looks dull.^' 
 
 Minnie lifted her eyelids now, and her wan look 
 of suffering was rather enhanced by the view of 
 those bright, wistful eyes. 
 
 " I think Errington is an enviable f ellow,^^ con- 
 tinued Mr. Diamond. 
 
 " So do I. He is going away." 
 
 " That's a hard saying for us, who are to remain 
 behind. Miss Bodkin ! But I meant — and I think 
 you know that I meant — he is enviable because he 
 will be so much regretted." 
 
 "I don^t know that he will be 'so much re- 
 gretted/ "
 
 158 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 " Surely Why, one fair lady lias even been 
 
 sliedding tears ! " 
 
 " Oh, Miss Chubb ? Yes ; but that proves very 
 little. The good soul is always overstocked with 
 sentiment, and will use any friend as a waste-pipe 
 to get rid of her superfluous emotion.'" 
 
 " Well, I should have made no doubt that you 
 would be sorry, Miss Bodkin." 
 
 " Sorry ! Yes ; I am sorry. That is to say, I 
 shall miss Algernon. He is so clever, and bright, 
 and gay, and — diiferent from all our Whitford 
 mortals. But for himself, I think one ought to be 
 glad. Papa says, and you say, and I say myself, 
 that his journey to London on such slender en- 
 couragement is a wild-goose chase. But, after all, 
 why not ? Wild geese must be better to chase 
 than tame ones." 
 
 " Not so easy to catch, nor so well worth the 
 catching, though," said Mr. Diamond, smiling. 
 
 " I said nothing about catching. The hunting 
 is the sport. If a good fat goose had been all that 
 was wanted, Mr. Filthorpe, of Bristol, offered him 
 that ; and even, I believe, ready roasted. But — if 
 I were a man, I think I would rather hunt down 
 my wild goose for myseK." 
 
 " You had better not let Errington hear your 
 theory about the pleasures of wild-goose hunting." 
 
 "Because he is apt enough for the sport al- 
 ready ? "
 
 A CHABMING FELLOW. 159 
 
 " N — not precisely. But lie would take advan- 
 tage of your phrase to characterise any hunting 
 which it suited him to undertake^ and thus give an 
 air of impulse and romance to, perhaps, a very 
 prosaic ambition, very deliberately pursued. ^^ 
 
 " I wonder why ," said Minnie, and then 
 
 stopped suddenly. 
 
 " Yes ! You wonder why ? " 
 
 '^No, I wonder no longer. I think I under- 
 stand.''' 
 
 "JMiss Bodkin is pleased to be oracular," said 
 Mr. Diamond, with a careless smile ; and then he 
 moved away towards the piano, where Mrs. Bodkin 
 was playing a quaint sonata of Clementi, and stood 
 listening with a composed, attentive face. Never- 
 theless, he felt some curiosity about the scope of 
 Minnie's unfinished sentence. 
 
 The sentence, if finished, would have run thus : 
 ^^ I wonder why you are so hard on Algernon ! " 
 But with the utterance of the first words an ex- 
 planation of Diamond's severe judgment darted 
 into her mind. Might he not have some feeling of 
 jealousy towards Algernon ? (Miss Chubb's words 
 were lighting up many things. Probably the good 
 little woman had never in her life before said any- 
 thing of such illuminating power.) Yes, Diamond 
 must be jealous. Algernon had unrivalled oppor- 
 tunities of attracting pretty Ehoda's attention. 
 Nay, had he not attracted it already? Minnie
 
 160 A CH ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 recalled little words, little looks, little blushes, 
 wliicli seemed to point to tlie real nature of RL-oda's 
 feelings for Algernon. Elioda did not — no ; slie 
 surely did not — care for Matthew Diamond. Minnie 
 had a momentary elation of heart as she thus 
 assured herself, and at the same time she felt an 
 impulse of scorn for the girl who could disregard 
 the love of such a man, as though it were a value- 
 less trifle. But, then, did Rhoda know ? did Rhoda 
 guess ? And then Minnie, suddenly checking her 
 eager mental questioning in mid-career, turned her 
 fiery scorn against herself for her pitiful weakness. 
 
 As she lay there so graceful and outwardly 
 tranquil, whilst the studied, passionless turns and 
 phrases of old Clementi trickled from the keys, 
 she had hot fits of raging wounded pride, and cold 
 shudders of deadly depression. The numb listless- 
 ness which had shielded her at the beginniug of 
 the afternoon had disappeared during her short 
 conversation with Diamond. She was sensitive 
 now to a thousand stinging thoughts. 
 
 What a fool she had been ! What a poor, 
 blind fool ! She tried to remember all the details 
 of the past days. Did others see what Miss Chubb 
 had seen in Diamond's face ? And had she — 
 Minnie Bodkin, who prided herself on her keen 
 observation, her cleverness, and her power of 
 reading motives — ^had she been the only one to 
 miss this obvious fact ? She had been deluding
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 161 
 
 herself with the thought that Matthew Diamond 
 came and sat beside hei- couch, and talked, and 
 smiled f oi' her sake ! Poor fool ! Why, did not 
 his frequent visits date from the time when Ehoda's 
 visits had besrun, too ? It was all clear enousrh 
 now; so clear, that the self-delusion which haid 
 blinded her seemed to have been little short of 
 madness. "As if it were possible that a man 
 should waste his love on mo ! " she thought 
 bitterly. 
 
 At that moment she caught Mr. Warlock^s eyes 
 mournfully fixed upon her. His gaze irritated her 
 unendurably. "Am I so pitiable a spectacle?" 
 she asked herself. "Is my folly written on my 
 face, that that idiot stares at me in wonder and 
 compassion?" 
 
 Minnie gave him one of her haughtiest and 
 coldest glances, and then turned away her head. 
 
 Poor Mr. AVarlock ! It must be owned that 
 there are strange, cruel pangs unjustly inflicted and 
 suffered in this world by the most civilised persons. 
 
 The little party broke up sooner than usual. 
 The dispirited tone with which it had begun con- 
 tinued to the end. Algernon made his farewells to 
 Miss Chubb, Mr. Warlock, Mr. Diamond, and Dr. 
 Bodkin. But to Minnie he whispered, " I will run 
 in once more on Monday to say ' Good-bye^ to your 
 mother and to you, if I may." 
 
 The rest departed almost simultaneously. Mat- 
 
 VOL. I, M
 
 162 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 tliew Diamond lingered an instant at tlie door oi" 
 tlie drawing-room, to say to Mrs. Bodkin, "I liope 
 tliis is not to Le tlie last of our pleasant Saturdays, 
 althougli we are losing Errington ?" 
 
 It was an unusual sort of speecb. from tlie re- 
 served, sliy tutor, wlio carried his proud dread of 
 being tliouglit officious or intrusive to sucli a point, 
 tliat Minnie was wont to say, laugliingly, tliat Mr. 
 Diamond's diffidence was liauglitier tlian anyone 
 else's disdain. 
 
 Mrs. Bodkin smiled, well pleased. " Oli, I lioi>e 
 not, indeed!" slie said in lier quick, low accents. 
 " Minnie ! Do you liear what Mr. Diamond is 
 saying ? '^ 
 
 Minnie did not answer. She tliouglit how 
 happy this wish of his to keep up "our pleasant 
 Saturdays " would have made her yesterday !
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The manifestations of maternal vanity are apt to 
 appear monotonous to tlie indifferent spectator; 
 but^ in Mrs. Errington sucli manifestations were, at 
 least, not open to tliat repi-oach. Beetlioven him- 
 self never surpassed lier in the power of producing 
 variations on one simple theme. And this sur- 
 prising fertility" of hers prevented her from being a 
 mere commonplace bore. She never told a story 
 twice ahke. There was always an element of 
 unexpectedness in her comversationj albeit the 
 fifroundwork and foundation of it varied but little. 
 In the overflowing gratification of her heart at 
 Algernon's prospects, and under the excitement of 
 his imminent departure, she would fain have 
 bestowed some of her eloquence even on old Max, 
 with whom her relations had been decidedly cool, 
 since the outbreak of rude temper on his part 
 which has been recorded. But old Max continued 
 to be surly and taciturn for a while ; he had been
 
 164 A CII ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 bitterly mortified by Mrs. Errington^s talk about 
 tbe marriage lier son would be able to make, wben- 
 ever it should please liim to select a wife. 
 
 But then, after that, had come Miss Bodkin's 
 frequent invitations to Ehoda, which had greatly 
 mollified the old man. And presently it appeared 
 as if Mrs. Errington had forgotten all about 
 General Indigo's daughters, and the heiress of the 
 eminent drysalter. At all events, she said no more 
 on the subject of those ladies. And old Max 
 gradually, and not slowly, recurred to his former 
 persuasion that the Erringtons would be very glad 
 to secure Rhoda's hand for Algernon, being well 
 aware that her money would balance her birth and 
 connections. True, the young man had, as yet, 
 said nothing explicit. But, of course, he would 
 feel it necessary to have some settled prospect be- 
 fore asking permission to engage himself formally 
 to Rhoda. 
 
 "He is connected with the great ones of the 
 earth, to be sure!" reflected Mr. Maxfield, with 
 some exultation. " And he is a comely young chap 
 to look upon, and full of all kinds of book-learning 
 and accomplishments — talks foreign tongues, and 
 sings, and plays upon instruments, and draws 
 pictures !" 
 
 An uneasy thought crossed his mind at this 
 point, that David Powell would consider these 
 things as leading to reprehensible frivolity and
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 165 
 
 worldliness; and tliat, moreover, most of his 
 (Maxfield's) old friends would agree with the 
 preacher in so deeming. It was not to be expected 
 that the thoughts and habits of a lifetime could be 
 so eradicated from old Max's mind by the mere 
 fact of going to worship at St. Chad's, as to leave 
 his conscience absolutely free on these and similar 
 points. But the ultimate effect of such inward 
 feelings was always to embitter the old man 
 against Powell, and to make him clutch eagerly at 
 any circumstance which should tend to prove that 
 Powell had been wrong and himself right in their 
 differing views of the Erringtons' intentions. He 
 was inexpressibly loath to consider himself mistaken. 
 Indeed, for him to be mistaken seemed to argue a 
 general dislocation and turning topsy-turvy of 
 things, and a terrible unchaining of the powers of 
 darkness. If, after walking all his life in the paths 
 of wisdom and prosperity, he were to find himself 
 suddenly astray, and blundering on a point which 
 nearly concerned the only tender feelings of his 
 nature, such a phenomenon must clearly be due to 
 the direct interposition of Satan. However, as he 
 stood one evening in his storehouse, tying up a 
 great parcel of sugar in blue paper, Jonathan 
 Maxfield was feeling neither discontented nor self- 
 distrustful. Mrs. Errington had just been speaking 
 to Rhoda in his presence, and had said : 
 
 " Well, little one, you have quite made a
 
 166 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 conquest of Mrs. Bodkin, as well as Miss Minnie. 
 She was praising you up to me the other day. 
 She particularly remarked yovir nice manners, and 
 attributed them to my influence '' 
 
 "I'm sure, ma'am, if there is anything nice in 
 my manners, it was you who taught it to me," 
 E-hoda had said simply. Upou which Mrs. Erring- 
 ton had been very gracious, and, without at all 
 disclaiming the credit of Rhoda's nice manners, 
 had mellifluously assured Mr. Maxfield that his 
 little girl was wonderfully teachable, and had 
 become a general favourite amongst her (Mrs. 
 Errington's) friends. 
 
 Now all this had seemed to Maxfield to be of 
 good augury, and an additional testimony — if any 
 such were needed — to his own sagacity and prudent 
 behaviour. 
 
 "It'll come right, as I foresaw," thought he 
 triumphantly. "Another man might have been 
 over hasty, and spoiled matters like a fool. But 
 not me ! " 
 
 Some one pushed the half-door between the 
 shop and the storehouse, and set the bell jingling. 
 Maxfield looked up and saw Algernon Errington, 
 bright, smiling, and debonair, as usual. 
 
 The ordinary expression of old Max's face was 
 not winning ; and now, as he looked up with his 
 grey eyebrows drawn into a shaggy frown, and his 
 jaws clenched so as to hold the end of a string
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 167 
 
 wliicli lie liad just drawn into a knot round the 
 parcel of sugar^ lie presented a countenance ill- 
 calculated to reassure a stranger or invite liis con- 
 fidence. But Algy was not a stranger, and did 
 not intend to bestow any confidence, so lie came 
 forward with the graceful self-possession which sat 
 so well on him, and said, " How are yon, Mr. 
 Maxfield ? I have not seen you for ever so long ! " 
 
 ^''It doesn't seem very long ago to me, since 
 we spoke together," returned old Max, tugging at 
 the string of his parcel. 
 
 "You know I'm oif to-morrow, Mr. Maxfield?'' 
 
 The old man shot a hard keen glance at him 
 from beneath the shaggy eyebrows, and nodded. 
 
 " I go by the early coach in the morning, so I 
 must say all my farewells to-day." 
 
 Maxfield gave a sound like a grunt, and nodded 
 again. 
 
 "It's a wonderful piece of luck. Lord Seely's 
 taking me up so, isn't it i* " 
 
 " Ah ! if he means to do anything for you in 
 earnest. So far as I can learn, his taking you up 
 hasn't cost him much yet." 
 
 Algernon laughed frankly. " Not a bit of it, 
 Mr. Maxfield!" he cried. "'And, after all, why 
 should he do anything that would cost him much, 
 for a poor devil like me ? No ; the beauty of it is, 
 that he can do great things for me which shall cost 
 him nothing ! He is hand and glove with the
 
 163 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 present ministiy, and a regular big-wig at court, 
 and all tliat sort of tMug. Tlie fact of my having 
 good blood in my veins, and being called Ancram 
 Errington, is no merit of mine, of course — just 
 an accident; but it's a deuced lucky accident. I 
 daresay Lord Seely is a stupid old liunks, but then 
 he is Lord Seely, you see. I don^t mind saying 
 all this to you, Mr. Maxfield, because you know 
 the world, and you and I are old friends.^^ 
 
 It was certainly rather hard on Lord Seely to 
 be spoken of as a stupid old hunks by this lively 
 young gentleman, who knew little more of him than 
 of his great-grandfather, deceased a century ago. 
 But his lordship did not hear the artless little 
 speech, so it did not annoy him ; whereas old Max 
 did here it, and it gratified him considerably for 
 several reasons. It gratified him to be addressed 
 confidentially as one vv^ho knew the world; it 
 gratified him to be called an old friend by this 
 relation of the great Lord Seely. And, oddly 
 enough, whilst ho was mentally bowing down 
 before the aristocratic magnificence of that noble- 
 man, it gratified him to be told that the bowing 
 down was being performed to a "stupid old hunks," 
 altosfether devoid of that wisdom which had been so 
 largely bestowed on himself, the Whitford grocer. 
 
 Pleasant and unaffected as was the young 
 fellow's manner to his landlord, there was a non- 
 chalance about it which conveyed that he was quite
 
 A CH ARMING FELLOW. 160 
 
 aware o£ the social distance between them. And 
 this assumption o£ superiority — never coarse or 
 ponderous, like his mother^ s, but worn with the 
 airiest lightness — was far from displeasing to old 
 Max. The more of a gentleman born and bred 
 Algernon Errington showed himself to be, the 
 higher would Rhoda's position be, if — but old Max 
 had almost discarded that form of presenting the 
 future to his own mind; and was apt to say to 
 himself, "'when Rhoda marries young Errington.^' 
 And then the solid advantages of the position were, 
 so far at least, on old Max's side. Wealth and 
 wisdom made a powerful combination, he reflected. 
 And he was not at all afi'aid of being borne down 
 or overwhelmed by any amount of gentility. 
 Nevertheless, his spirit was in some s abjection 
 to this patrician youth, who sat opposite to him on 
 a tea-chest, swinging his legs so affably. 
 
 There was a pause. At length Maxfield said, 
 " And how long do you think o' being away ? Or 
 are you going to say good-bye to Whitford for 
 evermore ? " 
 
 Indeed I hope not ! " 
 
 Oh ! Then there is some folks here as you 
 would care to see again ? " said Maxfield slowly, 
 beginning to tie up another parcel with sedulous 
 care, and not raising his eyes from it. 
 
 '' Of course there are ! I — I should think you 
 must know that, Mr. Maxfield ! But I want to 

 
 170 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 put myself in a better position Avitli tlie world 
 before I can — before I come back to the people 
 I most care for/' 
 
 "Very good. But it's like to be some time 
 first, I'm afraid." 
 
 "As to seeing dear old Whitford again, you 
 know I mean to run down kere in tke summer ; 
 or at least early in tke autumn, wken Parliament 
 rises." 
 
 " Ok, you do ? " 
 
 " To be sure ! And tken I kope to — to settle 
 several tkings." 
 
 "Ak!" 
 
 " To a man of your experience, Mr. Maxfield, 
 I needn't say kow important it is for me to go to 
 Lord Seely, ready and willing to undertake any 
 employment ke may offer me." 
 
 "Ak!" 
 
 " I mean, of course, tkat I skould be absolutely 
 free and unfettered, and ready to — to — to avail 
 myself of opportunities. You see tkat, of course ? " 
 
 Maxfield looked sage, and nodded. But ke also 
 looked a little glum. Tke conversation kad not 
 taken tke turn ke expected. 
 
 " Once let me get sometking definite — a Govern- 
 ment post, you know, suck as my cousin could get 
 for me as easily as you could take an apprentice — 
 and tken I may please myself. I may consider 
 myself on tke first round of tke ladder. And tkere
 
 A CK ARMING FELLOW. 171 
 
 won^t be the same necessity for deferring to this 
 person and that person. But I don't know why 
 I'm saying all this to you, Mr. Maxfield. You 
 understand the whole matter better than I do. 
 By Jove, I wish I'd some of your ballast in my 
 noddle. I'm such a feather-headed fellow ! " 
 
 "You are young, Algernon, you are young," 
 returned old Max, from whose brow the frown 
 had cleared away entirely. " I have had a special 
 gift of wisdom vouchsafed to me for many years 
 past. It has been, I believe, a peculiar grace, and 
 it is the Lord's doing, thanks be ! I am not easy 
 deceived." 
 
 " I shouldn't like to try it on, that's all I 
 know ! " exclaimed Algernon, pleasantly smiling 
 and nodding his head, 
 
 "Albeit there is some as misti'ust my judg- 
 ment; young and raw men without much gift of 
 clear-headedness, and puffed up with spiritual 
 pride." 
 
 " Are there, really ? " said Algernon, feeling 
 somewhat at a loss what to say. 
 
 "Yes, there are. I should like such to be con- 
 vinced of error. It would be a wholesome lesson." 
 
 " Not a doubt of it." 
 
 "I should like such to know — for their own 
 soul's sake, and to teach 'eui Christian humility 
 — as you and I quite understand each other, my 
 young friend; and as all is clear between us."
 
 172 A CHAR2IING FELLOW. 
 
 Algernon had a constitutional dislike to " clear 
 understandings/^ except sucli as were limited to 
 liis clear understanding o£ other people. So lie 
 broke in at tliis point with, one of his impulsive 
 speeches about his prospects, and his conviction 
 of Mr. Maxfield^s wisdom, and his relets at 
 leaving Whitford, and his settled purpose to come 
 back at the end of the summer and have a look 
 at the dear old jolace, and the one or two persons 
 in it. who were still dearer to him. And he con- 
 trived — "^^ contrived/' indeed, is too cold-blooded 
 and Machiavelian a word to express Algy's rapid 
 mental process — to convey to old Max the idea 
 that he was on the high road to fortune; that 
 he had a warm and constant attachment to a 
 certain person whom it was needless to name, 
 seeing that the certain person could be no other 
 than his playmate, pretty Rhoda; and that Mr. 
 Jonathan Maxfield was so sagacious and keen- 
 sighted a personage as to require no wordy ex- 
 planations such as might have been needful for 
 feebler intelligences. And then Algy said, with 
 a rueful sort of candour, and arching those fair 
 childlike eyebrows of his : " I say, Mr. Maxfield, 
 I shall be awfully short of cash just at first ! " 
 
 The two hands of Jonathan Maxfield, which 
 had been laid open, and palm downwards, on the 
 counter before him, as he listened, instinctively 
 doubled themselves into fists. He jjut them one
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 173 
 
 oil tlie top of tliG otlier, and restocl his cliiii on 
 them. 
 
 "1 don't bother my mother about it^ poor 
 dear soul, because I know she has done all she 
 can already. Of course, if I were to hint any- 
 thing to my cousin — to Lord Seely, you know — 
 I might get helped directly. But I don't want 
 to begin with that, exactly." 
 
 '' H'm ! It 'ud be a test of how much he 
 really does mean, though ! " 
 
 " Yes ; but you know what you said about 
 Lord Seely's doing great things for me which 
 shall cost him nothing. And I felt how true 
 your view was, directly. By George, if I wanjt 
 any advice between now and next August, I shall 
 be tempted to write and ask you for it ! " 
 
 Maxfield gave a little rasping cough. 
 
 " Of course I know the manners and customs 
 of high-bred people well enough. A fellow who 
 comes of an old family like mine seems to suck 
 all that in with his mother's milk, somehow. But 
 that's a mere surface knowledge, after all. And 
 some circumstance might turn up in which I 
 should want a more solid judgment to help my 
 own." 
 
 Maxfield coughed again, a little less raspingly. 
 One of his doubled-up hands unclasped itself, and 
 he began to pass it across his stubbly chin. 
 
 "By-the-by — what an ass I was not to think
 
 174- A CHABMING FELLOW. 
 
 of tliat before — would you mind lending me twenty 
 pounds till August, Mr. Maxfield ? " 
 
 " I — I'm not given to lending, Algernon ; nor 
 to borrowing either, I tbank the Lord/' 
 
 " Borrowing ! No ; you're one of the lucky 
 folks of this woi'ld, who can grant favours instead 
 of asking them. But it really is of small con- 
 sequence, after all; I'll manage somehow, if you 
 have any objection. I believe I have a nabob of 
 a godfather. General Indigo, as yellow as a guinea 
 and as rich as a Jew. My mother was talking of 
 him the other day, and, perhaps, it would be better 
 to ask such a little favour of one's own people. I'll 
 look up the nabob, Mr. Maxfield." 
 
 It must not be supposed that Algy, in bringing 
 out the name of General Indigo, had any thought 
 of the three lovely Miss Indigos in his mind. He 
 was quite unconscious of the existence of those 
 young ladies; if, indeed, they were not entirely 
 the figments of Mrs. Errington's fertile fancy. 
 Algy had laid no deep jilans. He was simply 
 quick at seizing opportunity. The opportunity 
 had presented itself, of dazzling old Mas with his 
 nabob godfather, and of — perhaps — inducing the 
 stingy old fellow to lend him what he wanted, by 
 dint of conveying that he did not want it particu- 
 larly. Algy had availed himself of the opportunity, 
 and the shot had told very effectually. 
 
 Old Max never swore. Had he been one of the
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 175 
 
 commou and profane crowd of worldlings^ it may 
 be that some imprecation on General Indigo would 
 have issued from his lips ; for the mention of that 
 name made him very angry. But old Mas had 
 a settled conviction of the probable consignment 
 to perdition of the rich nabob — who was doubt- 
 less a purse-proud^ tyrannous, godless old fellow — ■ 
 which far surpassed, in its comforting power, the 
 ephemeral satisfaction of an oath. He struck his 
 clenched hand on the counter, and said, testily, 
 '^You have not heard what I had it in my mind 
 to say ! You are too rash, young man, and broke 
 in on my discourse before it was finished ! " 
 
 '' I beg pardon. Did I ? " 
 
 " I say that I am not given to lending nor to 
 borrowing ; and it is most true. But I have not 
 said that I will refuse to assist you. This is a 
 special case, and must be judged of specially as 
 between vou and me." 
 
 '^Why, of course, I would rather be obliged 
 to you than to the general, who is a stranger to 
 me, in fact, though he is my godfather.'^ 
 
 "There^s nearer ties than godfathers, Algernon." 
 
 Algernon burst into a peal of genuine laughter. 
 '^'Why, yes," said he, wiping his eyes, ^'I hope 
 so!" 
 
 Old Max did not move a muscle of his face, 
 '^ What was the sum you named ? " he asked, 
 solemnly.
 
 176 A CHABMING FELLOW. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know — twenty or tliirty pounds 
 would do. Sometliing just to keep me going 
 until my motker's next quarter's money comes 
 
 in." 
 
 "I will lend you twenty pounds, Algernon, 
 for wkicli you will write me an acknowledg- 
 ment." 
 
 " Certainly ! " 
 
 " Being under age, your receipt is valueless iu 
 law. But I wisk to have it as between you and 
 
 me." 
 
 " Of course ; as between you and me." 
 
 Maxfield unlocked a strong-box let into tke wall. 
 Algernon — wko liad often gazed at tke outside of it 
 ratkcr wistfully — peeped into it vfitk some eager- 
 ness wken it was opened ; but its contents were 
 ckiefly papers and a kuge ledger. Tkere was, 
 kowever, in one corner a well-stuffed black leatker 
 pocket-book, from wkick old Max slowly extracted 
 a crisp, fresk Bank of England note for twenty 
 pounds. 
 
 " I'm sure I'm ever so muck obliged to you, 
 Mr. Maxfield," said Algernon, taking tke note. 
 He spoke witkout any over-eagerness, but tke 
 gleam of boyisk deligkt in kis eyes would not be 
 suppressed. 
 
 " And now come into tke parlour witk me, and 
 write tke acknowledgment." 
 
 " I say, Mr. Maxfield," said Algernon, wken tke
 
 A CE ARMING FELLOW. 177 
 
 receipt had been duly written and signed, 
 ''you won't say anything to my mother about 
 this ? " 
 
 " Do you mean to keep it a secret ? " asked the 
 old man, sharply. 
 
 " Oh, of course I don't mind all the world 
 knowing, as far as Fm concerned. But the dear 
 old lady might worry herself at not being able to 
 do more for me. Let it be just simply as between 
 you and me," said Algernon, repeating Maxfield's 
 words, but, tnith to say, without attaching any very 
 definite meaning to them. The old man pursed up 
 his mouth and nodded. 
 
 " Aye, aye," he said, ''as between you and me, 
 Algernon ; as between you and me." 
 
 "Upon my word, that formula of old Max's 
 seems to be a kind of open sesame to purses and 
 strong-boxes and cheque-books ! 'As between you 
 and me.' I wonder if it would answer with Lord 
 Seely ? Who'd have thought of old Max doing the 
 handsome thing ? Well, it's all right enough. I 
 do mean to stick to little Rhoda, especially since 
 her father seems to hint his approbation so very 
 plainly. But it wouldn't do to bind myself just 
 now — for her sake, poor little pet ! 'As between 
 you and me ! ' What a character the old fellow 
 is ! I wish he'd made it fifty while he was about 
 it!" 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 ,1 G HARMING FELLOW. 
 
 Such was Algernon's mental soliloquy as he 
 walked jauntily down tlie street, with his hand in 
 his pocket, and the crisp bank-note between his 
 finger and thumb.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 David Powell sat in liis garret cliamber. The fast 
 waning light of a February afternoon fell on him as 
 he sat close to the lattice in the sloping roof. He 
 had placed himself there to be able to read the small 
 print of his pocket-bible. But the light was already 
 too dim for that. It was dusk in the garret. The 
 strip of grey cloud, visible from the window, was 
 beginning to turn red at its lower edge as the sun 
 sank. It was the angry flaring red, which is often 
 seen at the close of a cold and cloudy day, and had 
 no suggestion of genial warmth in its deep flush. 
 Such a snow-laden, crimson-bordered wrack of fleecy 
 cloud, as Powells eyes rested on, might have hung 
 over a Lapland waste. There was no fire in the 
 room, nor any means of making one. It was bitterly 
 cold. The preacher^s face looked white and blood- 
 less, as if it were frozen. But he sat still, staring 
 out at the red sunset light on the strip of sky within 
 his view. From his seat on an old chest, which he
 
 180 A CHABMING FELLOW. 
 
 had drawn close under the window, he could see 
 nothing but the sky. Not one of the roofs or 
 chimneys of Whitford was visible to him. A black 
 wavering line moved slowly across his field of vision. 
 It was a flight of rooks on their way home to the 
 tall leafless elm-trees in Pudcombe Park. Nothing 
 else moved, except the red flare creeping upward by 
 slow and imperceptible degrees. 
 
 Suddenly the little Bible fell from Powell's 
 numbed right hand on to the carpetless floor, and, 
 with a start, he turned his head and looked around 
 him. By contrast with the wintry light without, 
 the garret appeared quite dark to him, and it was 
 not until after a few seconds that his eye became 
 sufiiciently accustomed to its gloom, to perceive 
 the book lying almost at his feet. He picked it 
 up, and began to chafe his numbed fingers, rising 
 at the same time, and walking up and down the 
 room. 
 
 His thoughts had been straying idly as he sat at 
 the window, with his eyes fixed on the sky. They 
 had gone back to the days of his boyhood, and in 
 memory he had seen the wild Welsh valley where 
 he was born, and heard the bleat of sheep from the 
 hills, as he had listened to it many a summer morn- 
 ing, sitting ragged and barefoot on the turf. And 
 with these recollections the image of Ehoda Max- 
 field was strangely mingled, appearing and disap-
 
 A GHAmilNG FELLOW. 181 
 
 pearing, like a face iu a dream. Indeed, he liad 
 been dreaming open-eyed in his solitude, uncon- 
 scious of the cold and the gathering- dusk. 
 
 Now, such aimless, vagrant wanderings of the 
 fancy were considered reprehensible by earnest 
 Methodists ; and by none were they more strongly 
 disapproved of than by David Powell himself. His 
 life was guided, as nearly as might be, in conformity 
 with the rules laid down by John Wesley himself 
 for the helpers, as his first lay-preachers were called. 
 And among these rules, diligence — unflagging, un- 
 faltering — diligence and the strenuous employment 
 of every minute, so that no fragment of time 
 should be wasted, were emphatically insisted upon. 
 Powell had ceased to read when the daylight waned, 
 and remained in his place by the window, intend- 
 ing to devote a few minutes of the twilight to the 
 rigid self-examination which was his daily habit. 
 And instead, behold ! his mind had strayed and 
 wandered in idle recollections and unsanctified 
 imaginings. 
 
 Presently he began to mutter to himself, as he 
 paced up and down the chill bare room. 
 
 " What have I to do with these things," he said 
 aloud, " when I should be about my Master^s busi- 
 ness ? Where is the comfortable assurance of old 
 days — the bright light which used to shine within 
 my soul, turning its darkness to noon-day ? I have
 
 182 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 lost my first love ; * I have fallen from grace ; and 
 the enemy finds a ready entrance for any idle 
 thoughts he wills to put into my mind. And yet 
 — have I not striven ? Have I not searched my 
 own heart with sincerity ? " 
 
 All at once, stopping short in his walk across the 
 garret floor, he threw himself on his knees beside 
 the bed, and, burying his face in his hands, began 
 to pray aloud. The sound of his own voice rising 
 ever higher, as his supplications grew more fervent, 
 hid from his ears the noise of a tap at the door, 
 which was repeated twice or thrice. At length, 
 the person who had knocked pushed the door 
 gently open a little way, and called him by his 
 name, " Mr. Powell ! Mr. Powell ! " 
 
 " Who calls me ? " asked the preacher, lifting 
 his head, but not rising at once from his knees. 
 
 "IVs me, sir; Mrs. Thimbleby, I have made 
 you a cup of herb tea accordiu^ to the directions in 
 the Primitive Physic,-}- and there is a handful of 
 fire in the kitchen grate, whilst here it is downright 
 freezing. Dear, dear Mr. Powell, I can't think it 
 right for you to set for hours up here by yourself 
 in the cold ! " 
 
 * A common expression among the early Methodists, to indi- 
 cate the first fervour of rehgious zeal. 
 
 f A coUcctionof receipts, published by John Wesley, under the 
 title of " Primitive Physic ; or, An Easy and Natural Method of 
 Curing most Diseases."
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 183 
 
 The good widow — a gentle, loquacious woman, 
 with mild eyes and a humble manner — had ad- 
 vanced into the room by this time, and stood hold- 
 ing up a hghted candle in one hand, whilst with 
 the other she di'ew her scanty black shawl closer 
 round her shoulders. 
 
 " I will come, Mrs. Thimbleby,'^ answered 
 Powell. " Do you go downstairs, and I will follow 
 you forthwith.^^ 
 
 •^'Well, it is a miracle of the Lord if he don't 
 catch his death of cold," muttered the widow as 
 she redescended the steep, narrow stau'case. '^^But 
 there ! he is a select vessel, if ever there was one; 
 and a burning and a shining light. And I suppose 
 the Lord will take care of His own, in His own 
 way." 
 
 Mrs. Thimbleby sat down by her own clean- 
 swept hearth, in which a small fire was burning 
 brightly. The little kitchen was wonderfully clean. 
 Not a speck of rust marked the bright pewter and 
 tin vessels that hung over the dresser. Not an 
 atom of dust lay on any visible object in the place. 
 There was no sound to be heard save the ticking 
 of the old eight- day clock, and, now and then, 
 the dropping of a coal on to the hearth. As soon 
 as she heard her lodger's step on the stairs, Mrs. 
 Thimbleby bestirred herself to pour out the herb 
 tea of which she had spoken. 
 
 " I wish it was China tea, Mr. Powell," she
 
 184 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 said, when lie entered tlie kitclien. " But you 
 ■won't take that, so I know it's no good to offer it 
 to you. Else I have a cup liere as is really good, 
 and came out of my new lodger's pot." 
 
 " You do not surely take of wkat is not your 
 own ! " cried Powell, looking quickly round at 
 her. 
 
 " Lord forbid, sir ! No, but the gentleman 
 drinks a sight of tea. And last evening he would 
 have some fresh made, and I say to him" — Mrs. 
 Thimbleby's narrative style was chiefly remark- 
 able for its simplification of the English syntax, by 
 means of omitting all past tenses, and thus getting 
 rid of any difficulty attendant on the conjugation 
 of irregular verbs — '' I say, ' Won't you have none 
 of that last as was made for breakfast, as is beau- 
 tiful tea, and only wants warming up again ? ' 
 But he refuse; and then I ask him if I may use 
 it myself, seeing I look on it as a sin to waste 
 anything; and he only just look up from his book 
 and nod his head, and say, ''Do what you like 
 with it, ma'am,' and wave his hand as much as to 
 say I may go. He is not much of a one to talk, 
 but he paid the first week punctual, and is as 
 quiet as quiet, and — there he is ! I hear his key 
 in the door." 
 
 A quick, firm step came along the passage, 
 and Matthew Diamond appeared at the door of 
 the kitchen. ''Will you be good enough to give
 
 A CEABMING FELLOW. 185 
 
 me a lio-lit ? " lie said, addressino; tlie landlady. 
 Tlieu he saw David Powell standing near tlie fire, 
 and looked at him curiously. Powell did not turn, 
 nor seem to observe the new comer. His head was 
 bent down, and the firelight partially illumined his 
 profile, which was presented to anyone standing at 
 the door. Mr. Diamond silently formed the word 
 *' Preacher ? " with his lips, at the same time nod- 
 ding towards Powell, and raising his eyebrows in- 
 terrogatively. Mrs. Thimbleby answered aloud with 
 alacrity, well pleased to begin a conversation with 
 her tacitmm lodger. 
 
 ^^Yes, sir; it is our preacher, Mr. Powell, as is 
 one of our shiningest lights, and an awakening 
 caller of sinners to repentance. You've maybe 
 heard him preach, sir ? A many of the uncon- 
 verted — ahem ! — a many as does not belong to the 
 connexion has come to hear him in Whitford 
 Wesleyan Chapel, and on Whit Meadow. And 
 we have had seasons of abundant blessing and re- 
 freshment. '^ 
 
 Pov/ell had turned round at the beginning- of 
 Mrs. Thimbleby' s speech, and was looking earnestly 
 at Mr. Diamond. The latter, who had seen the 
 preacher only in the full tide of his eloquence and 
 the excitement of addressing a crowded audience, 
 was struck by the change in the face now before 
 him. It was much thinner, haggard, and deadly 
 pale. There were lines round the mouth, which
 
 186 A CHABMING FELLOW. 
 
 expressed anxiety and suffering; and tlie eyes 
 were sunk in their orbits, and startlingly bright. 
 Diamond was, in fact, startled out of bis usual 
 silent reserve by the glance which met his own, 
 and exclaimed, impulsively, ''I'm afraid you are 
 ill, Mr. Powell !'' 
 
 "No,'' returned the other at once, and with- 
 out hesitation. " I have no bodily ailment. I 
 have seen you at the house of Jonathan Maxfield^ 
 have I not ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I have been in the habit of going 
 there to read with a young gentleman. My name 
 is Diamond — Matthew Diamond." 
 
 " I know it," answered Powell. " I should like, 
 if you are willing', to say a few words to you 
 privately." 
 
 Diamond was a good deal surprised, and a 
 little displeased, at this proposition. He had been 
 interested in the Methodist preacher, and the 
 thought had more than once crossed his mind 
 that he should like to see more of the m.an, 
 whose whole personality was so striking and un- 
 common. But Mr. Diamond had felt his wish 
 just as he might have wished to have Paganini 
 with his violin all to himself for an evening ; or 
 to learn vivCt voce from Edmund Kean how he 
 produced his great effects. To be the object and 
 subject of a private sermon from this Methodist 
 enthusiast (for Diamond could conceive no other
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 187 
 
 reason for tlie preacher's desiring an interview 
 with liim than zeal for converting) was, however, 
 a different matter ; and Diamond had half a mind 
 to decline the private communication. He was a 
 man peculiarly averse to outspokenness about his 
 own feelings. Nor was he given to be frank and 
 diffusive on topics of mere intellectual speculation; 
 although, occasionally, he could exchange thoughts 
 on such matters with a congenial mind. But he 
 knew well enough that, with the Methodists in 
 general, an excited state of feeling, which might 
 do duty for conviction, was the aim and end of 
 their teaching and preaching. 
 
 " This man is ignorant and enthusiastic, and 
 will make himself absurd and me uncomfortable, 
 and I shall have to offend him, which I don't wish 
 to do,^' thought Mr. Diamond, standing stiff and 
 grave with the candle in his hand. But once 
 more the sight of Powell's haggard, suffering face 
 and bright wistful eyes touched him ; and once 
 more the resolute Matthew Diamond suffered him- 
 self to be swayed by an impulse of sympathy with 
 this man. 
 
 " Oh," said he, " well, you can come into my 
 sitting-room." 
 
 The invitation was not very graciously given, 
 but Powell did not seem to heed that at all. Mrs. 
 Thimbleby stood in admiring astonishment as her 
 two lodgers left the kitchen together.
 
 188 A CHAEMING FELLOW. 
 
 Tlie two young men, so strangely contrasted 
 in all outward circumstances, entered tlie small 
 parlour, wliicli served as dining-room, sitting-room, 
 and study to Matthew Diamond, and seated them- 
 selves at a table almost covered with books, one 
 corner of which had been cleared to admit of a 
 little tea-tray being placed upon it. 
 
 " Will you share my tea, Mr. Powell ? " asked 
 Diamond, as he filled a cup with the strong brown 
 liquid. 
 
 " No ; I thank you for proffering it to me, 
 but I do not drink tea." 
 
 " I am sorry for that, for I am afraid I have 
 no other refreshment to offer you. I don't indulge 
 in wine or spirits.''^ 
 
 Diamond threw into his manner a certain de- 
 termined commonplaceness, as though to quench 
 any tendency to excitement or exaltation which 
 might show itself in the preacher. Although he 
 would have expressed it in different terms, Matthew 
 Diamond had at the bottom of his mind a feeling 
 akin to that in Miss Chubb' s, when she declared 
 her dread of the Maxfield family " going into con- 
 vulsions ■" in the parish church of St. Chad. 
 
 " I will take a cup of tea myself, if you have 
 no objection,'' said Diamond, suiting the action to 
 the word, and stretching out his legs, so as to 
 bring them within reach of the warmth from the
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 189 
 
 fire. " Won't you draw nearer to tlie heartli, 
 Mr. Powell?'' 
 
 Powell sat looking fixedly into tlie fire witli 
 an abstracted air. His liands were joined loosely, 
 and rested on Ms knees. The firelight shone on 
 his wan, clearly-cut face, but seemed to bo 
 absorbed and quenched in the blackness of his 
 hair, which hung down in two straight, thick locks 
 behind his ears. He did not accept Mr. Diamond's 
 invitation to draw nearer to the warm hearth, 
 but, after a pause, turned his face to his com- 
 panion, and said, " It is on behalf of the young 
 maiden, Rhoda Maxfield, that I would speak 
 with you, sir." 
 
 He could scarcely have said anything more 
 thoroughly unexpected and disconcerting to Mat- 
 thew Diamond. The latter did not start or stare, or 
 make any strong demonstration of surprise, but 
 he could not help a sudden flush mounting to his 
 face, much to his annoyance. 
 
 '' About Miss Rhoda Maxfield ? " he returned 
 coldly ; " I do not understand what concern either 
 you or I can have with any private conversation 
 about that young lady." 
 
 " My concern with Plioda is that of one who 
 has had it laid upon him to lead a tender soul 
 out of the darkness into the light, and who 
 suddenly finds himself divided from that precious
 
 190 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 charge, even at the niomeut when he hoped the 
 goal was reached. Her father has left our 
 Society, and has thus carried Rlioda away from 
 the reach of my exhortations/^ 
 
 " By Jove ! " thought Diamond to himself, as 
 he turned his keen grey eyes on the preacher, 
 " this is a specimen of spiritual conceit on a 
 colossal scale ! •" Then he said aloud, " You must 
 console yourself with the hope that the exhorta- 
 tions she will hear in the parish church will differ 
 from your own rather in manner than matter, Mr. 
 Powell. There really are some very decent people 
 among the congregation of St. Chad's.^'' 
 
 '^'Nay,'^ answered Powell, with simple gentle- 
 ness, " do you think I doubt it ? It has been the 
 boast of Methodism that it receives into its 
 bosom all denominations of Christians, without 
 distinction. The Churchman and the Dissenter, 
 the Presbyterian and the Independent, are alike 
 welcome to us, and are free alike to follow then* 
 own method of worship. In the words of John 
 Wesley himself, ' one condition, and one only, is 
 required — a real desire to save their souls. Where 
 this is, it is enough ; they desire no more. They 
 lay stress upon nothing else. They ask only, Is 
 thy heart herein as my heart ? If it be, give 
 me thy hand.' " 
 
 "Methodism has changed somewhat since the 
 days of John Wesley," said Diamond, drily.
 
 A GEAmiING FELLOW. 191 
 
 " Not Methodism, but perhaps — Methodists. 
 But it was not of Methodism that I had it on 
 my mind to speak to you now/^ 
 
 Diamond controlled his face and his attitude to 
 •express civil indifference ; but — his pulse was 
 quickenedj and he hid his mouth with his hand. 
 Powell went on : "I have turned the matter in 
 my mind, many ways. And I have sought for 
 guidance on it with much wrestling of the spirit. 
 But I had not received a clear leading until this 
 evening. When I saw you standing in the door- 
 way, it was borne in upon me that you could be 
 an instrument of help in this matter. And the 
 leading was the more assured to me, because that 
 to-day, having opened my Bible after due supplica- 
 tion, mine eyes fell at once on the words, ' I have 
 heard of thee by the hearing of the ear ; but now 
 mine eyes seeth thee.' Now these words were 
 dark to me until just now, when you seemed to 
 appear as the explanation and interpretation 
 thereof.'' 
 
 Diamond could not but acknowledo-e to himself 
 that all the scriptural phraseology, and the techni- 
 calities of sectarianism, which he found merely 
 grotesque or disgusting in men of common, vulgar 
 natures, came from this man's lips with as much 
 ease and propriety as if he had been a Hebrew 
 of old time uttei-ing his native idiom. Indeed, 
 the impression of there being something oriental
 
 192 A CE ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 about David Powell^ whicli Diamond liad received 
 oil first seeing liim, was deepened on further 
 acquaintance. This black-haired Welshman was 
 picturesque and poetic, despite his threadbare 
 cloth suit, made in the ungraceful mode of the 
 day; and impressive, despite his equally thread- 
 bare phrases. It is possible to make a wonderful 
 diiference in the effect both of clothes and words, 
 by putting something earnest and unaffected 
 inside them. 
 
 " What is the help you seek ? And how can 
 I help you ? " asked Diamond, with grave direct- 
 ness. 
 
 "You are acquainted with the daughter of the 
 principal of the grammar school here " 
 
 "Miss Bodkin ?'' 
 
 cc ■ 
 
 Yes. Do you think that, if you carried to 
 her a request that I might be permitted to see 
 and speak with her, she would admit me ?^' 
 
 " I — I don^t know,^' answered Diamond, greatly 
 taken aback. 
 
 There was a pause. Each man was busy with 
 his own thoughts. " Rhoda is beyond my reach 
 now,^^ said Powell at length. " I can neither see 
 nor speak with her. Nor do I know of any of 
 those who see her famiharly who would be likely 
 to influence her for good, except Miss Bodkin. 
 I am told that she is a lady of much ability and 
 power of mind; and I hear, moreover, of her
 
 A Cn ARMING FELLOW. 193 
 
 doing many acts of cliarity and kindness. You 
 know her well, do you not ? " 
 
 " I know her. Yes.^^ 
 
 "Would you consent to carry such, a request 
 from me ?^' 
 
 Diamond hesitated. " Why not prefer the re- 
 quest yourself ? " he said. " If you have any good 
 reason for desiring an interview with Miss Bodkin, 
 I believe she would grant it." 
 
 " I had thouo;ht of doino- so. I had thoug-ht, 
 even, of writing all that I have to say. But, for 
 many reasons, I beheve it would be more profitable 
 for me to see her face to face. I am no penman. 
 I am indeed, as you perceive, a man very ignorant 
 in the world^s learning and the world^s ways." 
 
 Diamond suspected a covert boast under this 
 humble speech, and answered in his coolest tones, 
 "The first is a disadvantage — or an advantage, as 
 you choose to consider it — which you share with a 
 good many of your brethren, Mr. Powell. As to 
 the latter kind of ignorance — Methodists are 
 generally thought to have worldly wisdom enough 
 for their needs." 
 
 Powell bent his head. "I would fain have 
 more learning," he said in a low voice, " but only 
 as a means, not as an end — not as an end.'" 
 
 " But," said Diamond, in a constrained voice, 
 " it seems to me hardly worth while to trouble 
 Miss Bodkin, by asking for an interview on any 
 
 YOL. I.
 
 194 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 sucli grounds. Since jou are charitable enougli 
 to believe that Miss Maxfield's spiritual welfare 
 is not imperilled by going to St. Chad's, I don't 
 see what need there is for you to be uneasy about 
 her ! " 
 
 " I am uneasy; but not for the reasons you 
 suppose. Rhoda is very guileless, and I would 
 shield her from peril." 
 
 Diamond looked at the preacher sternly. " I 
 don't understand you/' he said. " And to say the 
 truth, Mr. Powell, I disapprove of meddling in 
 other people's affairs. Miss Maxfield is a young 
 lady for whom I have the very highest respect." 
 
 For the first time a flame of quick anger flashed 
 from Powell's dark eyes, as he answered, " Your 
 high respect would teach you to stand aside and let 
 the innocent maiden pine under a delusion which 
 might spoil her life and peril her soul ; mine 
 prompts me to step forward and awaken her to the 
 truth, never heeding what figure I make in the 
 matter." 
 
 The sudden passion in the man's face and figure 
 was like a material illumination. Diamond had 
 grown pale, and looked at him attentively, and in 
 silence. 
 
 " Do you think," proceeded Powell, his thin 
 hands working nervously, and his eyes blazing, 
 " that I do not understand how pure a creature she 
 is — how innocent, confiding, and devoid of all sus-
 
 A CEAB2IING FELLOW. 195 
 
 picion of guile ? Yea, and even, therefore, the 
 more in need of warning ! But because I am a 
 man still young in years, and neither the maiden^s 
 brother, nor any kin to her, I must stand silent and 
 withhold my help, lest the world should say I am 
 transgressing its rules, and bid me mind my own 
 affairs, or deride me for a fanatical fool ! Do you 
 think I do not foresee all this ? or do you think that, 
 foreseeing it, I heed it ? I have broken harder 
 bonds than that; I have fought with strong im- 
 pulses, to which such motives are as cobwebs " 
 
 Then, with a sudden check and change of tone 
 which a grain of affectation would have sufficed to 
 render ludicrous, but which, in its simplicity, was 
 almost toucliing, he added, in a low voice, " I ask 
 pardon for my vehemence; I speak too much of 
 myself. I have had some suffering in this matter, 
 and am not always able to control my words. I 
 have had strange visitings of the old Adam of late. 
 It is only by much striving after grace, and by 
 strong wrestling in prayer, that I have not wandered 
 utterly from the right way." 
 
 He had risen from his chair at the beginning of 
 his speech, and now sank down again on it wearily, 
 with drooping head. 
 
 Matthew Diamond sat and looked at him still 
 with the same earnest attention ; but blended, now, 
 with a look of compassion. He was thinking to 
 himself what must be the force of enthusiastic faith.
 
 196 A CE ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 wMcli could so subdue tlie fiery nature of this man, 
 and liow lie must suffer in tlie conflict. Presently, 
 lie said aloud, " I am ready to admit, Mr, Powell, 
 tliat you are actuated by conscientious motives ; I 
 am sure tliat you are. But your conscience cannot 
 be a rule for all tlie rest of the world. Mine may 
 counsel me differently, you know." 
 
 "Oh, sir, we are neither of us left to our own 
 guidance, thanks be to God ! There is a sure 
 counsellor that can never fail us. I have searched 
 diligently, and I have received a clear leading which 
 I cannot mistrust. I do not feel free to tell you 
 more particularly the grounds of my anxiety re- 
 specting Rhoda Maxfield. But I do assure you, 
 with all sincerity and solemnity, that I have her 
 welfare wholly at heart, and that I would not injure 
 her by the least shadow of blame in the opinion of 
 any human being. ^^ 
 
 There was silence for some minutes. Diamond 
 leant his head on his hand, and reflected. Then at 
 length he said, " Look here, Mr. Powell ; I believe, 
 if you had pitched on anyone else in all Whitford 
 to speak to about Miss Rhoda Maxfield, I should 
 have declined to assist you. But Miss Bodkin is so 
 superior in sense and goodness to most other folks 
 here, that I am sure whatever you may say to her 
 confidentially will be sacred. And then, she may 
 be able to set you right, if you are wrong. She 
 has the woman's tact and insight which we lack.
 
 A CHABMING FELLOW. 197 
 
 And, besides, she is fond of Elioda.-" He coloured 
 a little as lie said the name, and dropped his voice. 
 
 " You confirm all that I have heard of this lady. 
 She is abundantly blessed with good gifts/^ 
 
 '' Well, then, Mr. Powell, I will write to Miss 
 Bodkin to-morrow, telling her merely that you 
 desire to speak with her, and entreat her good 
 offices on behalf of one who needs them.^' 
 
 Powell sprang up from his seat eagerly. " I 
 thank you, sir, from a full heart,^^ he said. " You 
 are doing a good action. Farewell.^^ 
 
 Diamond held out his hand, which the preacher 
 grasped in his own. The two hands were as strongly 
 contrasted as the owners of them. Diamond^s was 
 broad, muscular, and yet smooth — a strong young 
 hand, full of latent power. Powell's was slender, 
 nervous, showing the corded veins, and with long 
 emaciated fingers. It, too, indicated force ; but 
 force of a different kind. The one hand might 
 have driven a plough, or written out a mathematical 
 problem ; the other might have wielded a scimitar 
 in the service of the Prophet, or held up a crucifix 
 in the midst of persecuting savages. As they stood 
 for a second thus hand in hand, Powell's mouth 
 broke into a wonderfully sweet and radiant smile, 
 and he said, "You see, sir, I was right to have 
 faith in my counsellor. You have helped me." 
 
 Diamond sat musing late that night, and was 
 roused by the cold to find his fire gone out and
 
 198 A CHAHMING FELLOW. 
 
 liis watck marking half -past twelve o^ clock. " I 
 wonder,^^ lie tkouglit to liimself^ " if Powell lias 
 any foundation for liis hints, and if any scoundrel 
 is playing false with her. If there be, I should 
 like to shoot him like a dog ! ''
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Minnie and lier father had been having a discus- 
 sion about David Powell, and the discussion had 
 heated Dr. Bodkin, and spoiled his half hour after 
 dinnei', which was wont to be the pleasantest half 
 hour of his day. For Dr. Bodkin did not sit over 
 his wine alone. When there were no guests, his 
 wife and Minnie remained at the black shining 
 board — in those days the table-cloth was removed 
 for the dessert, and the polish of the mahogany 
 beneath it was a matter of pride with notable 
 housekeepers like Mrs. Bodkin — and his wife poured 
 out his allowance of port and peeled his walnuts for 
 him, and his daughter chatted with him, and coaxed 
 him, and sometimes contradicted him a little, and 
 there would be no more school until to-morrow 
 morning, and altogether the doctor was accustomed 
 to enjoy himself. But on this occasion the poor 
 gentleman was vexed and disturbed. 
 
 " It^s a parcel of stuff and nonsense ! " said the 
 doctor, jerking his legs under the table.
 
 200 A CEAEMING FELLOW. 
 
 '' That remains to be proved, papa. If the man 
 lias anything of consequence to say, I shall soon 
 discover it/^ 
 
 " Anything of consequence to say ? Fudge ! 
 He is coming begging, perhaps " 
 
 " I don^t believe that, papa. Nor, I think, do 
 you in your heart,^^ returned Minnie, with a little 
 smile at one side of her mouth. 
 
 But the doctor was too much disturbed to smile. 
 " Why shouldn^t he come begging ? It won't be 
 his modesty that will stand in his way, I daresay. 
 Or perhaps he wants to ' convert ' you, as these 
 fellows are pleased to call it ! " 
 
 " Nobody seems to be afraid of our wanting to 
 convert him ! " said Minnie. 
 
 "I don't like the sort of thing. I don't like 
 that people should have it to say that my daughter 
 is honoured with the confidences of a parcel of 
 ranting, canting cobblers.''' 
 
 " But, papa, would it not — I am speaking in 
 sober sincerity, and because I really do want your 
 serious answer — don't you think it would be wrong 
 to be deterred from helping anyone with a kind 
 word or a kind deed, by the fear of people saying 
 this or that ? " 
 
 " Helping a fiddlestick ! " cried Dr. Bodkin 
 magisterially, but incoherently. 
 
 Minnie's face fell. It had been paler than usual 
 of late, and she had been suffering and feeble. She
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 201 
 
 never lamented aloud, nor was importunate, nor 
 even sliowed weakness of temper ; but lier father, 
 wlio loved her very tenderly, understood the chill 
 look of disappointment well enough, and it was 
 more than he had strength to bear. 
 
 " Of course the man can come and say his say,^^ 
 he added, jerkiug his legs again impatiently under 
 the sheltering mahogany, " especially as you say he 
 is going away from Whitford directly/' 
 
 " Yes ; but there is no guarantee that he will 
 not come back again. I cannot promise you that, 
 on his behalf.'' 
 
 This unflinching straightforwardness of Minnie's 
 was a fertile source of trouble between her father 
 and herself. 
 
 It was certainly rather hard on the doctor to 
 be forced to surrender absolutely, without any of 
 those pleasant pretences which are equivalent to 
 the honours of war. Fortunately — we are limit- 
 ing ourselves to the doctor's point of view — fortu- 
 nately at this moment his eye fell on Mrs. Bodkin, 
 who, made exquisitely nervous by any collision 
 between the two great forces that ruled her life, 
 was pushing the decanter of port backwards and 
 forwards on the slippery table, quite unconscious of 
 that mechanical movement. 
 
 " Laura, what the mischief are you about ? 
 
 Do you think I want my wine shaken up like a 
 dose of physic ? "
 
 202 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 This kind of diversion of the vials of the doctor's 
 wrath on to his wife's devoted head*was no un- 
 common finale to any altercation in which the 
 reverend gentleman happened not to be getting- 
 altogether the best of it. 
 
 ''1 think/' said Mrs, Bodkin, speaking very 
 quickly, and in a low tone, as was her wont, " that 
 very likely Mr. Powell wants to interest Minnie on 
 behalf of Richard Gibbs." 
 
 "And who, pray, if I may venture to inquire, 
 is Richard Gibbs?" asked the doctor, in his most 
 awful grammar-school manner, and with a sarcastic 
 severity in his eye, as he uttered the name ' Gibbs,' 
 and looked at Mrs. Bodkin as though he expected 
 her to be very much ashamed of herself. 
 
 ''Brother of Jane, our maid. He is a groom 
 at Pudcombe Hall, and a Wesleyan. Mr. Powell 
 may want to recommend him, or get him a 
 place." 
 
 " What, is the fellow going to leave Pudcombe 
 Hall, then?" 
 
 "Not that I know of exactly. But it struck 
 me it might be about Richard Gibbs that he 
 wanted to speak, because Gibbs is a Wesleyan, you 
 know." 
 
 " I suppose he wants to meddle and make 
 himself of consequence in some way. Egotism 
 and conceit — rampant conceit — are the mainsjDrings 
 that move such fellows as this Powell."
 
 A CHABMING FELLOW. 203 
 
 The doctor rose majestically from tlie table 
 and walked towards the door. There he paused, 
 and turning round said to his wife^ " May I request, 
 Laura, that somebody shall take care that I get a 
 cup of hot tea sent to me in the study? I don't 
 think it is much to request that my tea shall not 
 be brought to me in a tepid state \" 
 
 Mrs. Bodkin had a great gift of holding her 
 tongue on occasions. She held it now, and the 
 doctor left the room with dignity. 
 
 That evening Minnie wrote the following 
 note : — 
 
 " My dear Mr. Diamond, — I shall be able to see 
 Mr. Powell at one o'clock to-morrow. Should that 
 hour not suit his convenience, perhaps he will do 
 me the favour to let me know. 
 
 " Yours very truly, 
 
 '' M. Bodkin.'' 
 
 It was the first time she had ever written to 
 Mr. Diamond. The temptation to make her letter 
 longer than was absolutely needful had been resisted. 
 But the consciousness that the temptation had existed, 
 and been overcome, was present to Minnie's mind ; 
 and she curled her lip in self-scorn as she thought, 
 "If I wrote him whole pages it would only bore 
 him. He would prefer one line written in E-hoda's 
 school-girl hand, out of Rlioda's school-girl head, to
 
 204 A CHAEMING FELLOW. 
 
 the best wit I could give him ; aye, or to the best 
 wit of a wittier woman than I." Then suddenly 
 she tore the note she had just written across, threw 
 it into the fire, and watched it blaze and smoulder 
 into blackness. " I will ask you to write a line for 
 me, mamma,^^ she said, when Mrs. Bodkin re- 
 entered the drawing-room, after having sent in the 
 doctor's cup of tea to the study. 
 
 " To whom, Minnie ? " 
 
 " To Mr. Diamond. Please say that I will receive 
 Mr. Powell at one o'clock to-morrow, if that suits 
 him.^' 
 
 " I daresay it is really about Eichard Gibbs," 
 said Mrs. Bodkin, as she sealed her note. 
 
 It was not without a slight feeling of nervous- 
 ness that Minnie Bodkin, the next day, heard 
 Jane's announcement, '^Mr. Powell is below. Miss. 
 Mistress wishes to know if you would see him in 
 your own room ? " 
 
 Minnie gave orders that the preacher should 
 be shown upstairs, and Jane ushered him in very 
 respectfully. Dr. Bodkin's old man-servant took 
 no pains to hide his disgust at the reception of such 
 a guest ; and declared in the servants' hall that the 
 sight of one of them long-haired, canting Methodys 
 fairly turned his stomach. But Jane, remembering 
 her brother Richard's reformation, was less militant 
 in her orthodoxy, and expressed the ojiinion that 
 " Mr. Powell was a very good man for all his long
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 hair" — a revolutionary sentiment whicli was naturally- 
 received with incredulity and contempt. 
 
 Minnie looked up eagerly when the jDreacher 
 entered the room, and scanned him with a rapid 
 glance as she asked him to be seated. " I am a 
 poor feeble creature, Mr. Powell/^ she said, "who 
 cannot move about at my own will. So you wil 
 forgive my bringing you up here, will you not ? '' 
 
 Powell, on his part, looked at the young lady 
 with a steady, searching gaze. Minnie was ac- 
 customed to be looked at admiringly, affection- 
 ately, deferentially, curiously, pityingly (which she 
 liked least of all) — sometimes spitefully. But she 
 had never been looked at as David Powell was 
 looking at her now ; that is, as if his spirit were 
 scrutinising her spirit, altogether regardless of the 
 form which housed it. 
 
 " I thank you gratefully for letting me have 
 speech of you," he said; and his voice, as he said 
 it, charmed Minnie^s sensitive and fastidious ear. 
 
 '^Do you know, Mr. Powell, that for some time 
 past I have had the wish to make your acquaint- 
 ance? But cii-cumstances seemed to make it un- 
 likely tbat I ever should do so.-" 
 
 " Yes ; it was very unlikely, humanly speaking. 
 But I have no doubt that our meeting has been 
 brought about in direct answer to pz*ayer." 
 
 Minnie was at a loss what to say. It was 
 almost as startling to hear a man profess such a
 
 206 A G HARMING FELLOW. 
 
 belief on a week-day, and in a quiet, matter-of- 
 fact tone, as it would have been to find Madame 
 Malibran conducting all her conversation in reci- 
 tative, or to bear Mr. Dockett begin bis sentences 
 with a '^whereas." 
 
 " You wish to speak to me on behalf of some 
 one, Mr. Diamond tells me ? " said Minnie, after a 
 slight hesitation. 
 
 " Yes ; you have been kind and gracious to a 
 young girl beneath you in worldly station, named 
 Ehoda Maxfield." 
 
 " Rhoda ! Is it of her you wish to speak ? " 
 cried Minnie, in great surprise. She felt a strange 
 sick pang of jealousy. It was for Rhoda^s sake, 
 then, that Mr. Diamond had begged her to re- 
 ceive Powell ! 
 
 " You are kindly disposed towards the 
 maiden ? " said Powell, anxiously ; for Minnie's 
 change of countenance had not escaped him. For 
 her life, Minnie could not cordially have said 
 " yes " at that moment. 
 
 "I — Pthoda is a very good girl, I believe; 
 what would you have me do for her ? '' 
 
 " I would have you dissuade her from resting 
 her hopes — I speak now merely of earthly hopes 
 and earthly prudence — on the attachment of one 
 who is unstable, vain, and worldly-minded.'' 
 
 '^ What do you mean ? I — I do not under- 
 stand," stammered Minnie, with fast-beating heart.
 
 A CEABMING FELLOW. 207 
 
 " May I speak to yoii in full confidence ? If 
 you tell me I may do so, I sliall trust you utterly." 
 
 "What is this matter to me? Why do you 
 come to me about it ? '' 
 
 " Because I have been told by those whose 
 words I believe, that you are gifted with a clear 
 and strong judgment, as well as with all qualities 
 that win love." 
 
 "You are mistaken. I am not gifted with the 
 qualities that win love," said Minnie, bitterly. 
 Then she asked, abruptly, "Did Mr. Diamond 
 advise you to speak to me about Ehoda ? " 
 
 "Nay; it was I who had recourse to his inter- 
 cession to get speech of you." 
 
 " But he knows your errand ?" 
 " In part he knows it. But I was not free to 
 say to him all that I would fain say to you." 
 
 Minnie^s face had a hard set look. " Well," she 
 said, after a short silence, " I cannot refuse to hear 
 you. But I warn you that I do not believe I can 
 do any good in the matter." 
 
 " That will be overruled as the Lord wills." 
 Then David Powell proceeded to set forth his 
 fears and anxieties about Rhoda, more fully and 
 clearly than he had done to Diamond. He declared 
 his conviction that the girl was deceived by false 
 hopes, and was fretting and pining because every 
 now and then misgivings assailed her which she 
 could not confess to any one, and because that her
 
 208 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 conscience was uneasy. " The maiden is very 
 guileless and tender-natured/'' said Powell, softly. 
 
 " Don't you tliink you a little exaggerate lier 
 tenderness, Mr. Powell? Persons capable of strong 
 feelings themselves are apt to attribute all sorts of 
 sentiments to very wooden-hearted creatures.'' 
 
 He looked at her earnestly, and shook his head, 
 
 '' Ehoda always seems to me to be rather 
 phlegmatic ; very gentle and pretty, of course. 
 But, do you know, I should not be afraid of her 
 breaking her heart." 
 
 There was a hard tone in Minnie's voice, and a 
 hard expression about her mouth, which hurt and 
 disappointed the preacher. He had expected some 
 warmth of sympathy, some word of affection for 
 Rhoda, 
 
 " You do not know her," he said sadly, 
 
 "■And then, Mr, Powell, Algernon Erringtou 
 
 you knov.^, I suppose, that Mr. Errington is a 
 
 great friend of mine ? " 
 
 " I will not willingly say aught to offend you, 
 nor to offend against Christian courtesy. But 
 there are higher duties — more solemn promptings — 
 that must not be resisted." 
 
 " Oh, I am not offended. But, let me ask you, 
 what right have we to assume that Mr. Errington 
 has ever deceived Rhoda, or has ever thought of her 
 otherwise than as the friend and playmate of his 
 childhood ? "
 
 A CH ARMING FELLOW. 209 
 
 " I am convinced that lie has led lier to believe 
 he means^ some day, to marry her. I cannot resist 
 that conviction/^ 
 
 '' Marry her ! Why, Mr. Powell, the thing is 
 absurd on the face of it. A boy of nineteen, and 
 in Algernon's position ! — why, any person of com- 
 mon sense would understand that such an idea could 
 not be looked at seriously," 
 
 Powell made himself some silent reproaches for 
 his want of faith. This lady might not be soft and 
 sweet; but she had evidently the clear judgment 
 which he sought for to help Rhoda. And yet he 
 had been discouraged, and had almost distrusted 
 his "leading," because of a little coldness of man- 
 ner. He answered Minnie eagerly : 
 
 " It is true ! I well know that what you say is 
 true ; but will you tell Rhoda this ? Will you plen- 
 tifully declare to her the thing as it is ? " 
 
 "Rhoda has her father to advise her, if she 
 needs advice." 
 
 "Nay; her father is no adviser for her in this 
 matter. He is an ignorant man. He does not 
 miderstand the ways of the world — at least, not of 
 that world in which the Erringtons hold a place — 
 and he is prejudiced and stiff-necked." 
 
 There was a short silence. Then Minnie said : 
 
 " I do not see how I can interfere. I should, iu 
 fact, be taking an unjustifiable Hberty, and — Mr. 
 Errington is going away. They will both forget all 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 about this boy-and-girl nonsense, if people liave the 
 wisdom to let it alone." 
 
 " Ehoda will not forget ; slie will brood silently 
 over lier secret feelings_, and ber thoughts will be 
 diverted from higher things. She will fall away 
 into outer darkness. Oh think_, a word in season, 
 how good it is ! Consider that you may save a 
 perishing soul by speaking that word. I have 
 prayed that I might leave behind me in this place 
 the assurance that this lamb should not be utterly 
 lost out of the fold." 
 
 Powell had risen to his feet in his excitement, 
 and walked away from Minnie towards the window, 
 with his head bent, and his hands clasping his fore- 
 head. Minnie felt something like repulsion, and 
 the sort of shame which an honest and proud 
 nature feels at any suspicion of histrionism in one 
 whom it has hitherto respected. Surely the man 
 was exaggerating — consciously exaggerating — his 
 feeling on this matter ! But, then, Powell turned, 
 and came back towards her ; and she saw his face 
 clearly in the full sunlight, and instantly her sus- 
 picion vanished. That face was wan and haggard 
 with snffering, and there was a strange brilliancy 
 in the eyes, almost like the brightness of latent 
 tears. The tears sprang sympathetically to her 
 own eyes as she looked at him. It was impossible 
 to resist the pathos of that face. There was a 
 strange appealing expression in it, as of a suffering
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 211 
 
 of wliich. the sufferer was only half-conscious, that 
 went strai2:ht to Minnie^s heart. 
 
 " Mr. Powell, I am so truly sorry to see you 
 distressed ! I wish — I really do wish — that I could 
 do anything for you ! " 
 
 '' For me ! Oh not for me ! But stretch out 
 your hands to this poor maiden, and say words of 
 counsel to her, and of kindness, as one woman may 
 say them to another. I have borne the burden of 
 that young soul ; I have had it laid upon me to 
 wrestle strongly for her in prayer; I have — have 
 been assailed with manifold troubles and tempta- 
 tions concerning her. But I am clear now. I 
 speak with a single mind, and as desiring her 
 higher welfare from the depths of my heart. ^^ 
 
 " Good Heaven ! " thought Minnie, " what a 
 tragic thing it is to see men pouring out all the 
 treasures of their love on a thing like this girl ! " 
 For something in Powell's face and voice had pierced 
 her mind with a lightning-swift conviction that he 
 loved Ehoda Maxfield. Minnie would have died 
 rather than utter such a speech aloud. The ridicule 
 which, among sophisticated persons, slinks on the 
 heels of all strongly- expressed emotion, was too 
 present to her mind, and too disgusting to her 
 pride, for her to have risked the utterance of such 
 a speech even to her mother. But there in her 
 mind the words were, " Good Heaven ; how tragic 
 it is ! ^^ And she acknowledged to herself, at the
 
 212 A GHABMING FELLOW. 
 
 same timej that PowelFs lack of sophistication and 
 intensity of fervour raised him into a sphere wherein 
 ridicule had no place. 
 
 '"^I will do what I can^ Mr. Powell/' said 
 Minnie, after a pause, looking with unspeakable 
 pity at his thin, pallid face. "But do not trust 
 too much to my influence." 
 
 "I do trust to it, because it will be strengthened 
 and supported by my prayers." 
 
 Then, when he had said farewell, and was 
 about to go away, she was suddenly moved by 
 a mixture of feelings, and, as it were, almost 
 against her will, to say to him, "How good it 
 would be for you to see Ehoda as she is ! A 
 shallow, sweet, poor little nature, as incapable 
 of appreciating your love as a wren or a lady- 
 bird ! I like E.hoda, and I am a poor, shallow 
 creature in many ways myself. But I do re- 
 cognise things higher than myself when I see 
 them.^' 
 
 David Powell's face grew crimson with a hot, 
 dark flush, and for an instant he grasped the 
 back of a chair near him, hke a man who reels 
 in drunkenness. Then he said, "You are very 
 keen to see the truth. You have seen it. Rhoda 
 is dear to me, as no woman ever has been dear, 
 or will be again. Once I thought this love was 
 a snare to me. Now — unless in moments of 
 temptation by the enemy — I know that it is an
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 213 
 
 instrument in God's hands. It lias given me 
 strengtli to pray, courage to ask you for youi' 
 help/^ 
 
 " But you suffer ! " cried Minnie, looking at 
 him with knit, earnest brows. "Why should 
 you suffer for one who does not care for you ? 
 It is not just.'' 
 
 " Who dare ask for justice ? I have received 
 mercy — abundant, overflowing mercy — and shall I 
 not render mercy in my poor degree ? But in 
 truth," he added, in a low voice, and with a 
 smile which Minnie thought the most strangely 
 sweet she had ever seen — "in truth, I cannot 
 claim that merit. I can no more help desiring 
 to do good to Rhoda than I can help drawing 
 my breath. Of others I may say, ' It is my 
 duty to assist this man, to counsel that one, to 
 endure some hard treatment for the sake of this 
 other, in order that I may lead them to Christ.' 
 But with Rhoda there is no sense of saci^ifice. I 
 believe that the Lord has appointed me to bi'ing 
 her to Him. If my feet be cut and bleeding by 
 the way, I cannot heed it." 
 
 "Would you be glad to see Rhoda married to 
 Algernon Errington if he were to become a reh- 
 gious, earnest man — such a man as your consci- 
 entious judgment must approve ? " asked Minnie. 
 
 And the minute the words had passed her lips 
 she repented having said them ; they seemed so
 
 214 A CHAEMING FELLOW. 
 
 needlessly cruel ; such a ruthless probing of a 
 tender, quivering soul. "It was as if the devil 
 had put the words into my mouth/^ said she 
 afterwards to herself. 
 
 But Powell answered very quietly, " I have 
 thought of that often. But I ask myself such 
 questions no longer. I hold my Father^s hand 
 even as a little child, and whither that hand leads 
 me I shall go safely. It is not for me to tempt 
 the wrath of the Lord by vain surmises and put- 
 ting a case. 'Yea, though He slay me, yet will 
 I trust Him.'" 
 
 "You will come back to Whitford, will you 
 not ? " asked Minnie. 
 
 "If I may. But I know not when. That is 
 not given me to decide. At present, I feel my 
 conscience in bonds of obedience to the Society.^^ 
 
 "Perhaps we may never meet again in this 
 world ! " Minnie, as she said the words, was 
 conscious of a strong fellow-feeling for this man, 
 so far removed from her in external circumstances. 
 
 " May God bless you ! " he said, almost in a 
 whisper. 
 
 Minnie held out her hand. As he took it 
 lightly in his own for an instant, he pointed up- 
 ward with the other hand, and then turned and 
 went away in silence. 
 
 When Dr. Bodkin said a word or two to Minnie 
 that evening, as to her interview with the " rant-
 
 A CEAEMING FELLOW. 215 
 
 ing, canting cobbler/^ she was very reticent and 
 brief in lier answers. But on her father shrugging 
 his shoulders disparagingly and observing, "It is 
 a good thing that this firebrand is taking his de- 
 parture from Whitford. I've been hearing all 
 sorts of things about him to-day. It seems the 
 fellow even set the Methodists by the ears among 
 themselves/^ she exclaimed hotly, '^I do declare 
 most solemnly that this man gives me a more 
 vivid idea of a saint upon earth — a stumbling, 
 striving, suffering saint — than anything I ever saw 
 or read."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Aerived in London^ witli an influential patron 
 ready to receive him, and twenty pounds in Lis 
 pocket, over and above the sum his mother had 
 contrived to spare out of her quarterns income, 
 Algernon Errington considered himself to he a 
 very lucky fellow. He had good health, good 
 spirits, good looks, and a disposition to make 
 the most of them, untrammelled by shyness or 
 scruples. 
 
 He did feel a little nervous as he drove, the 
 day after his arrival in town, to Lord Seely's 
 house, but by no means painfully so. He was 
 undeniably anxious to make a good impression. 
 But his experience, so far, led him to assume, 
 almost with certainty, that he should succeed m 
 doing so. 
 
 The hackney-coach stopped at the door of a 
 grimy-looking mansion in Mayfair, but it was a 
 stately mansion withal. In reply to Algernon's
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 237 
 
 inquiry whetlier Lord Seelj was at home, a solemn 
 servant said tliat liis lordsliip was at home, but was 
 usually engaged at tliat liour. " Will you carry in 
 my card to liim?^' said Algernon. "Mr. Ajicram 
 Errington." 
 
 Algy felt tliat lie liad made a false move in 
 coming without any previous announcement, and 
 in dismissing his cab, when he was shown into a 
 little closet off the hall, lined with dingy books, 
 and containing only two hard horsehair chairs, to 
 await the servant's return. There was something 
 a little flat and ignominious in this his first 
 appearance in the Seely house, waiting like a dun 
 or an errand-boy, with the possibility of having to 
 walk out again, without having been admitted to 
 the light of my lord's countenance. However, 
 within a reasonable time, the solemn footman 
 returned, and asked him to walk upstairs, as my 
 lady would receive him, although my lord was for 
 the present engaged. 
 
 Algernon followed the man up a softly-carpeted 
 staircase, and through one or two handsome 
 drawing-rooms — a little dim from the narrowness 
 of the street and the heaviness of the curtains — 
 into a small cosy boudoir. There was a good fire 
 on the hearth, and in an easy- chair on one side of 
 it sat a fat lady, with a fat lap-dog on her knees. 
 The lady, as soon as she saw Algernon, waved a
 
 218 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 jewelled hand to keep him off, and said, in a 
 mellow, pleasant voice, which reminded him of his 
 mother^s, " How d'ye do ? Don't shake hands, nor 
 come too near, because Fido don't like it, and he 
 bites strangers if he sees them touch me. Sit 
 down." 
 
 Algernon had made a very agile backward move- 
 ment on the announcement of Fido's infirmity of 
 temper; but he bowed, smiled, and seated him- 
 self at a respectful distance opposite to my lady. 
 Lady Seely's appearance certainly justified Mrs. 
 Errington's frequent assertion that there was a 
 strong family likeness throughout all branches of 
 the Ancram stock, for she bore a considerable 
 resemblance to Mrs. Errington herself, and a 
 still stronger resemblance to a miniature of Mrs. 
 Errington's grandfather, which Algy had often 
 seen. My lady was some ten years older than 
 Mrs. Errington. She wore a blonde wig, and was 
 rouged. But her wig and her rouge belonged to 
 the candid and ingenuous species of embellishment. 
 Each proclaimed aloud, as it were, " I am wig ! " 
 '' I am paint ! " with scarcely an attempt at 
 deception. 
 
 " So you've come to town," said my lady, fumb- 
 ling for her eye-glass with one hand, while with 
 the other she patted and soothed the growling 
 Fido. Having found the eye-glass, she looked
 
 A CRAEMING FELLOW. 219 
 
 steadily tkrougli it at Algernon^ wto bore tlie 
 scrutiny witli a good-humoured, smile and a little 
 blush, which, became him very well. 
 
 " You''re very nice-looking, indeed/' said my lady. 
 
 Algy could not find a suitable reply to this 
 speech, so he only smiled still more, and made a 
 half -jesting httle bow. 
 
 "Let me see/' pursued Lady Seely, still holding 
 her glass to her eyes, " what is our exact relation- 
 ship ? You are a relation of mine, jon know." 
 
 " I am glad to say I have that honour." 
 
 " I don't suppose you know much of the family 
 genealogy," said my lady, who prided herself on 
 her own accurate knowledge of such matters. 
 "My grandfather and your mother's grandfather 
 were brothers. Your mother's grandfather was the 
 elder brother. He had a very pretty estate in 
 Warwickshire, and squandered it all in less than 
 twelve years. I don't suppose your mother's father 
 had a penny to bless himself with when he came of 
 age." 
 
 " I daresay not, ma'am." 
 
 " My grandfather did better. He went to India 
 when he was seventeen, and came back when he 
 was seventy, with a pot of money. Ah, if my 
 father hadn't been the youngest of five brothers, I 
 should have been a rich woman ! " 
 
 "Your ladyship's grandfather was General
 
 220 A G HARMING FELLOW. 
 
 Cloudesley Ancram, who distinguislied himself at 
 the siege of Khallaka/' said Algernon. 
 
 Lady Seely nodded approvingly. " Ah, your 
 mother has taught you that, has she?" she said. 
 " And what was your father ? Wasn't he an 
 apothecary?'' 
 
 Algernon's face showed no trace of annoyance, 
 except a little increase of colour in his blooming 
 young cheeks, as he answered, " The fact is. Lady 
 Seely, that my poor father was an enthusiast about 
 science. He would study medicine, instead of 
 going into the Church, and availing himself of the 
 family interest. The consequence was, that he 
 died a poor M.D. instead of a rich D.D. — or even, 
 who knows ? a bishop ! " 
 
 " La ! " said my lady, shortly. Then, after a 
 minute's pause, she added, " Then, I suppose, 
 you're not very rich, hey ? " 
 
 "I am as poor, ma'am, as my grandfather, 
 Montagu Ancram, of whom your ladyship was 
 saying just now that he had not a penny to bless 
 himself with when he came of age," returned 
 Algernon, laughing. 
 
 " Well, you seem to take it very easy," said my 
 lady. And once more she looked at him through 
 her eye-glass. "And what made you come to 
 town, all the way from what-d'ye-call-it ? Have 
 you got anything to do ? "
 
 ({ 
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 221 
 
 "1^ — notliing definite, exactly/' said Algernon. 
 Wm ! Quiet, Fido ! " 
 
 I ventured to hope tliat Lord Seelj — that 
 perhaps my lord — might " 
 
 " Oh, dear, you mustn't run away with that 
 idea!'' exclaimed her ladyship. "There ain't the 
 least chance of my lord being able to do anything* 
 for you. He's torn to pieces by people wanting 
 places, and all sorts of things." 
 
 "1 was about to say that I ventured to hope 
 that my lord would kindly give me some advice," 
 said Algernon. As he said it his heart was like 
 lead. He had not, of course, expected to be at 
 once made Secretary of State, or even to pop 
 immediately into a clerkship at the Foreign Office. 
 He had put the matter very soberly and moderately 
 before his own mind, as he thought. He had told 
 himself that a word of encouragement from his 
 high and mighty cousin should be thankfully re- 
 ceived, and that he would neither be pushing nor 
 impatient, accepting a very small beginning cheer- 
 fully. But it had never occurred to him to prepare 
 himself for an absolute flat refusal of all assistance. 
 My lady's tone was one of complete decision. And 
 it was in vain he reflected that my lady might be 
 speaking more harshly and decisively than she had 
 any warrant for doing, being led to that course by 
 the necessity of protecting herself and her husband
 
 222 A CHABMING FELLOW. 
 
 against importunity, None tlie less was Ms heart 
 very heavy witliin him. And he really deserved 
 some credit for gallantry in bearing up against the 
 blow. 
 
 " Advice ! " said my lady, echoing his word. 
 " Oh, well, that ain't so difficult. What are you 
 fit for?" 
 
 " Perhaps I am scarcely the best judge of that, 
 am I ? '^ returned Algernon, with that childhke 
 raising of the eyebrows which gave so winning an 
 expression to his face. 
 
 " Perhaps not ; but what do you think ? " 
 
 " Well, I — I believe I could fill the post of 
 
 secretary, or What I should like,'' he went 
 
 on, in a sudden burst of candour, and looking 
 deprecatingly at Lady Seely, like a child asking for 
 sugar-plums, " would be to get attached to one of 
 our foreign legations."" 
 
 " I daresay ! But that's easier said than done. 
 And as to being a secretary, it's precious hard 
 work, I can tell you, if you're paid for it ; and, 
 of course, no post would suit you that didn't 
 pay." 
 
 " I shouldn't mind hard work." 
 
 " You wouldn't be much of an Ancram if you 
 liked it ; I can tell you I know that much ! Well, 
 and how long do you mean to stay in town ?" 
 " That is quite uncertain."
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 223 
 
 '^'You raust come and see me again before you 
 go, and be introduced to Lord Seely/^ 
 
 " Oh, indeed, I liope so." 
 
 Come and see her again before he went ! What 
 would his mother say, what would his Whitford 
 friends say, if they could hear that speech ? Never- 
 theless, he answered very cheerfully : 
 
 " Oh, indeed, I hope so ! " And interpreting 
 my lady^s words as a dismissal, rose to go. 
 
 "You^re really uncommonly nice-looking,^^ said 
 Lady Seely, observing his straight, slight figure, and 
 his neatly-shod feet as he stood before her. " Oh, 
 you needn't look shame-faced about it. It's no 
 merit of yours -, but it's a great thing, let me tell 
 you, for a young fellow without a penny to have an 
 agreeable appearance. How old are you ? " 
 
 " Twenty," said Algernon, anticipating his 
 birthday by two months. 
 
 " Do you know, I think Fido will like you ! " 
 said my lady, who observed the fact that her 
 favourite had neither barked nor growled when 
 Algernon rose from his chair. " I'm sure I hope 
 he will ; he is so unpleasant when he takes a dislike 
 to people." 
 
 Algernon thought so too; but he merely said, 
 " Oh, we shall be great friends, I daresay ; I always 
 get on with dogs." 
 
 " Ah, but Fido is pecuhar. You can't coax him
 
 224 A CEARMINO FELLOW. 
 
 and lie gets so mucli to eat that you can't bribe Mm. 
 If lie likes you^ lie likes you — voilcl tout ! By-tlie- 
 wayj do you understand Frencb ? " 
 
 " Yes ; pretty fairly. I like it.'' 
 
 '' Do you ? But^ as to your accent — I'm afraid 
 tliat cannot be mucli to boast of. English, pro- 
 vincial French is always so very dreadful." 
 
 '^Wellj I don't know," said Algernon, with 
 perfect good humour, for he believed himself to be 
 on safe ground here ; " but the old Due de Ville- 
 gagnon, an emigre, who was my master, used to say 
 that I did not pronounce the words of my little 
 French songs so badly." 
 
 " Bless the boy ! Can you sing French songs ? 
 Do sit down, then, at the piano, and let me hear 
 one ! Never mind Fido." (Her ladyship had set 
 her favourite on the floor, and he was sniffing at 
 Algernon's legs.) " He don't dislike music, except 
 a brass band. Sit down, now ! " 
 
 Algernon obeyed, seated himself at the piano- 
 forte, and began to run his fingers over the keys. 
 He found the instrument a good deal out of tune ; 
 but began, after a minute's pause, a forgotten chan- 
 sonette, from ''Le Petit Chaperon Rouge." He sang 
 with taste and spirit, though little voice ; and his 
 French accent proved to be so surprisingly good, 
 as to elicit unquaHfied approbation from Lady 
 Seely.
 
 A GH ARMING FELLOW. 225 
 
 "Wliy, I declare that's cliarming ! '^ slie cried, 
 clapping her hands. " How on earth did you pick 
 up all that in — what's-its-name ? Do look here, my 
 lord, here's young Ancrana come up from that place 
 in the West of England, and he can play the piano 
 and sing French songs delightfully ! " 
 
 Algernon jumped up in a little flurry, and, turn- 
 ing round, found himself face to face with his 
 magnificent relative, Lord Seely. 
 
 Now it must be owned that " magnificent " was 
 not quite the epithet that could justly be applied to 
 Lord Seely's personal appearance. He was a small 
 delicately-made man, with a small, delicately-fea- 
 tured face, and sharp, restless dark eyes. His grey 
 hair stood up in two tufts, one above each ear, and 
 the top of his head was bald, shining, and yellowish, 
 like old ivory. " Eh?" said he. " Oh ! Mr.— a— a, 
 how d'ye do ? " Then he shook hands with Alger- 
 non, and courteously motioning him to resume his 
 seat, threw himself into a chair by the hearth, 
 opposite to his wife. He stretched out his short 
 legs to their utmost possible length before him, and 
 leant his head back wearily. 
 
 "Tired, my lord ?" asked his wife. 
 
 "Why, yes, a little. Dictating letters is a 
 fatiguing business, Mr. — a — a — " 
 
 " Errington, my lord ; Ancram Errington." 
 
 " Oh, to be sure ! I'm very glad to see you ; 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 A CHABMING FELLOW. 
 
 very glad indeed. Yes, yes ; Mr. Erriugton. You 
 are a cousin of my lady's ? Of course. Very 
 glad.'' 
 
 And Lord Seely got up and sliook liands once 
 more witli Algernon, whose identity lie had 
 evidently only just recognised. But, although 
 tardy, the peer's greeting was more than ci\il, 
 it was kind; and Algernon's gratitude was in 
 dhect proportion to the chill disappointment he 
 had felt at Lady Seely' s discouraging words. 
 
 " Thank you, sir," he said, pressing the small 
 thin white hand that was proffered to him. And 
 Algy's way of saying "Thank you, sir," was 
 admirable, and would have made the fortune of 
 a young actor on the stage; for, in saying it, he 
 had sufficient real emotion to make the simulated 
 emotion quite touching — as an actor should have. 
 
 My lord sat down again, wearily. '' Bush has 
 been with me again about that emigration scheme 
 of his," he said to his wife. " Upon my honour, 
 I don't know a more trying person than Bush." 
 When he had thus spoken, he cast his eyes once 
 more upon Algernon, who said, in the most art- 
 less, impulsive way in the world, " It's a poor- 
 spirited kind of thing, no doubt; but, really, 
 when one sees what a hard time of it statesmen 
 have, one can't help feeling sometimes that it is 
 pleasant to be nobody."
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 227 
 
 Now tlie word " statesman " applied to Lord 
 Seely was scarcely more correct than the word 
 *' magnificent " applied to his outer man. The 
 fact was, that Lord Seely had been, from his 
 youth upward, ambitious of political distinction, 
 and had, indeed, filled a subordinate post in the 
 Cabinet some twenty years previous to the day on 
 which Algernon first made his acquaintance. But 
 he had been a mere cypher there ; and the worst 
 of it was, that he had been conscious of being a 
 cypher. He had not strength of character or 
 ability to dominate other men, and he had too 
 much intelligence to flatter himself that he suc- 
 ceeded, where success had eluded his pursuit. 
 Stupider men had done better for themselves in 
 the world than Valentine Sackville Strong, Lord 
 Seely, and had gained more solid slices of success 
 than he. Perhaps there is nothing more detri- 
 mental to the achievement of ascendancy over 
 others than that intermittent kind of intellect, 
 which is easily blown into a flame by vanity, but 
 is as easily cooled down again by the chilly sug- 
 gestions of common sense. The vanity which 
 should be able to maintain itself always at white 
 heat would be a triumphant thing. The common 
 sense which never flared up to an enthusiastic 
 temperature would be a safe thing. But the 
 alternation of the two was felt to be uncomfort-
 
 228 A CB ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 able and disconcerting by all who bad mucb to do 
 witb Lord Seely. He continued, however, to keep 
 up a semblance of political life. He bad many 
 personal friends in tbe present ministry, and tbero 
 were one or two men wbo were ratber specially 
 hostile to him among tbe Opposition; of which 
 latter be was very proud, liking to speak of bis 
 "enemies^' in the House. He spoke jDretty fre- 
 quently from bis place among the peers, but no- 
 body paid him any particular attention. And he 
 wrote and printed, at his own expense, a con- 
 siderable number of political pamphlets; but no- 
 body read them. That, however, may have been 
 due to the combiiiation against his lordship which 
 existed among the writers for the public press, 
 who never, be complained, reported his speeches 
 in extenso, and, with few exceptions, ignored his 
 pamphlets altogether. 
 
 Howbeit, tbe word " statesman " struck plea- 
 santly upon tbe little nobleman's ear, and he 
 bestowed a more attentive glance on Algernon 
 than he had hitherto honoured him with, and 
 asked, in his abrupt tones, like a series of muffled 
 barks, " Going to be long in town, Mr. Ancram ? " 
 
 'Tve just been asking him,'' interposed my 
 
 lady. "He don't know for certain. But " 
 
 And here she whispered in her husband's ear. 
 
 "■ Oh, I hope so," said the latter aloud. " My
 
 A CH ARMING FELLOW. 229 
 
 lady and I liope that you will do us the favour 
 to dine with us to-morrow — eh ? Oh, I beg your 
 pardon, Belinda, I thought you said to-morrow ! 
 — on Thursday next. We shall probably be alone, 
 but I hope you will not mind that ? " 
 
 "I shall take it as a great favour, my lord,^' 
 said Algernon, whose spirits had been steadily 
 rising, ever since the successful performance of 
 his French song. 
 
 " You know, Mr. Ancram — I mean Mr. Erring- 
 ton — is a cousin of mine, my lord; so he won''t ex- 
 pect to be treated with ceremony .^^ 
 
 Algernon felt as if he could have flown down- 
 stairs when, after this most gracious speech, he 
 took leave of his august relatives. But he walked 
 very soberly instead, down the staircase and past 
 the solemn servants in the hall, with as much 
 nonchalance as if he had been accustomed to the 
 service of powdered lackeys from his babyhood, 
 
 " He seems an intelligent, gentleman-hke young 
 fellow," said my lord to my lady. 
 
 " Oh, he's as sharp as a weasel, and uncom- 
 monly nice-looking. And he sings French songs 
 ever so much better than that theatre man that 
 the Duchess made such a fuss about. He has the 
 trick of drawing the long bow, which all the 
 Warwickshire Ancrams were famous for. Oh, 
 there's no doubt about his belonging to the real
 
 230 A CEAHMING FELLOW. 
 
 breed ! He told me a cock-and-a-bull story about 
 Ms fatber^s devotion to science. I believe bis 
 fatber was a little apotbecary in Birmingbam. 
 But I don^t know tbat tbat mucb matters," said 
 my lady to my lord.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 AiaERNON was elated by tlie success of liis song, 
 and by Lady Seely's fall acknowledgment of bis 
 cousinsbip, and be left tbe mansion in Mayfair in 
 very good spirits, as bas been said. But wben 
 be got back to bis inn — a private botel in a dingy 
 street bebind Oxford Street — ^be began to feel a 
 recurrence of tbe disappointment wbicb bad op- 
 pressed bim, wben Lady Seely bad declared so 
 empbatically tbat my lord could do notbing for 
 bim, in tbe way of getting bim a place. Wbat 
 was to be done ? It was all very well for bis motber 
 to say tbat, witb bis talents and appearance, be 
 must and would make bis way to a bigb position ; 
 but, just and reasonable as it would be tbat bis 
 talents and appearance sbould give bim success, 
 be began to fear tbat tbey migbt not altogetber 
 avail to do so. He tbougbt of Mr. Filtborpe — 
 tbat substance, wbicb Mr. Diamond bad said tbey 
 were deserting for tbe sbadow of Seely — and of
 
 232 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 the thousands of pounds whicli the Bristol merchant 
 possessed. Truly a stool in a counting-house was 
 not the post which Algernon coveted. And he 
 candidly told himself that he should not be able 
 to fill it effectively. But, stilly there would have 
 been at least as good a chance of fascinating Mr. 
 Filthorpe as of fascinating Lord Seely^ and the 
 looked-for result of the fascination in either case 
 was to be absolution from the necessity of doing 
 any disagreeable work whatever. And, more- 
 over, Mr. Filthorpe, at all events, would have 
 supplied board and lodging and a small salary, 
 whilst he was undergoing the progress of being 
 fascinated. 
 
 Algernon looked thoughtful and anxious, for 
 full a quarter of an hour, as he pondered these 
 things. But then he fell into a fit of laughter at 
 the recollection of Lady Seely and Fido. " There 
 is something very absurd about that old woman,'' 
 said he to himself. " She is so impudent ! And 
 why wear a wig at all, if a wig is to be such a one 
 as hers ? A turban or a skull-cap would do just 
 as well to cover her head with. But then they 
 wouldn't be half so funny. Fido is something 
 like his mistress — nearly as fat, and with the 
 same style of profile." 
 
 Then he set himself to draw a caricature rejDre- 
 senting Fido, attired after the fashion of Lady
 
 A CH ARMING FELLOW. 233 
 
 Seely, and became quite cheerful aud buoyant 
 over it. 
 
 lu the interval between the day of bis visit to 
 tlie Seelys and the Thursday on which he was to 
 dine with them, Algernon made one or two calls, 
 and delivered a couple of letters of introduction, 
 with which his Whitford friends had furnished 
 him. One was from Dr. Bodkin to an old-fashioned 
 solicitor, who was reputed to be rich, but who 
 lived in a very quiet way, in a very quiet square, 
 and gave very quiet little dinners to a select few 
 who could appreciate a really fine glass of port. 
 The other letter was to a sister of young Mr. 
 Pawkins, of Pudcombe Hall, married to the chief 
 clerk of the Admiralty, who lived in a fashionable 
 neighbourhood, and gave parties as fashionable 
 as her visiting-list permitted, and by no means 
 desired any special connoisseurship in wine on 
 the part of her guests. 
 
 On the occasion of his first calls, Algernon 
 found neither Mr. Leadbeater, the solicitor, nor 
 Mrs. Machyn-Stubbs (that was the name of young 
 Pawkins's sister) at home. So he left his letters 
 and cards, and wandered about the streets in a 
 rather forlorn way; for although it was his first 
 visit to London, it was not possible for him to 
 get much enjoyment out of the metropolis, all 
 alone. To him every place, even London, appeared
 
 234 A GSABMING FELLOW. 
 
 in the light of a stage or background^ whereon 
 that supremely interesting personage, himself, 
 might figure to more or less advantage. Now 
 London is a big theatre. And although a big 
 theatre full of spectators may be very exhilarating 
 to the object of public attention who performs 
 in it, a big theatre, practically barren of spectators 
 — for, of course, the only real spectators are the 
 spectators who look at us — is apt to oppress the 
 mind with a sense of desertion. So he was very 
 glad when Thursday evening came, and he found 
 himself once more within the hall door of Lord 
 Seely^s house. 
 
 My lord was in the drawing-room alone, stand- 
 ing on the hearth-rug. He shook hands very 
 kindly with Algernon, and bade him come near 
 to the fire and warm himself, for the evenino- 
 was cold. 
 
 "And what have you been doing with your- 
 self, Mr. Errington?^^ asked Lord Seely. 
 
 " I have been chiefly employed to-day in 
 losing myself and asking my way,^' answered 
 Algernon, laughing. And then he began an 
 account of his adventures, and absolutely sur- 
 prised himself by the amount of fun and sparkle 
 he contrived to ehcit from the narration of cir- 
 cumstances which had been in fact dull and 
 commonplace enough.
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 235 
 
 My lord was greatly amused^ and once even 
 laughed out loud at Algernon's imitation of an 
 Irish apple-woman, who had misdirected him with 
 the best intentions, and much calling down of 
 blessings on his handsome face, in return for a 
 silver sixpence. 
 
 " Capital ! '' said my lord, nodding his head 
 up and down. 
 
 "The sixpence was badly invested, though," 
 observed Algernon, " for she sent me about three 
 miles out of my way." 
 
 " Ah, but the blarney ! You forget the blessing 
 and the blarney. Surely they were worth the 
 money, eh?" 
 
 " No, my lord ; not to me. I can't afford 
 expensive luxuries." 
 
 Lady Seely, when she entered the room, gor- 
 geous in pea-green satin, which singularly set off 
 the somewhat pronounced tone of her rouge, found 
 Algy and my lord laughing together very merrily, 
 and, as she gave her hand to her young relative, 
 demanded to be informed what the joke was. 
 
 Now it has been said that Algernon was pos- 
 sessed of wonderfully rapid powers of perception, 
 and by sundry signs, so slight that they would 
 have entirely escaped most observers, this clever 
 young gentleman perceived that my lady was not 
 altogether delighted at finding her husband and
 
 236 A CB ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 liimself on sucli easy aud pleasant terms together. 
 In fact, my lady, with, all her blunt careless jollity 
 of manner and pleasant mellow voice, was apt to 
 be both jealous and suspicious. She was jealous of 
 her ascendancy over Lord Seely, who was said by 
 the ill-natured to be completely under his wife^s 
 thumb, and she was suspicious of most strangers 
 — especially of strangers who might be expected 
 to want anything of his lordship. And she usually 
 assumed that such persons would endeavour to 
 " come over " that nobleman, when he was apart 
 from his wife^s protecting influence. She had a 
 general theory that " men might be humbugged 
 into anything ; '^ and a particular experience that 
 Lord Seely, despite his stiff carriage and abrupt 
 manner, was in truth far softer-natured than she 
 was herself. 
 
 "That young scamp has been coming over 
 Valentine with his jokes and his flummery,^'' said 
 my lady to herself. " He's an Ancram, every inch 
 of him.'' 
 
 At that very moment Algernon was mentally 
 declaring that the conquest of my lady would, 
 after all, be a more difficult matter than that of 
 my lord ; but that, by some means or other, the 
 conquest must be made, if any good was to come 
 to him from the Seely connection. And a stream 
 of easy chat flowed over these underlying intentions
 
 A GR ARMING FELLOW. 237 
 
 and hid them^ except that here and there, perhaps, 
 a bnbble or an eddj told of rough places out of sight. 
 
 After some ten minutes of desultory talk, my 
 lady was obliged to own to herself that the " young 
 scamp " had a wonderfully good manner. Without 
 a trace of servility, he was respectful ; conveying, 
 with perfect tact, exactly the sort of homage that 
 was graceful and becoming from a youth like 
 himself to persons of the Seelys' age and position. 
 Neither did he commit the error of becoming- 
 familiar, in response to Lady Seely's tone of 
 familiarity, a pitfall which had before now en- 
 trapped the unwary. For my lady, whom Nature 
 had created vulgar — having possibly, in the hurry 
 of business, mistaken one kind of clay for another, 
 and put some low person's mind into the fine por- 
 celain of an undoubted Ancram — was fond of 
 asserting her position in the world by a rough 
 unceremoniousness in the first place, and a very 
 wide-eyed arrogance in the second place, if such 
 unceremoniousness chanced to be reciprocated by 
 unauthorised persons. 
 
 " Do we wait for any one, Belinda ? " asked 
 Lord Seely. 
 
 " The Dormers are coming. They're such great 
 musicians, you know. And I want Lady Harriet 
 to hear this boy sing. And then there may bo 
 Jack Price, very likely."
 
 238 A CHAEMING FELLOW. 
 
 " Very likely ? " said my lord, raising liis eye- 
 brows and stiffening his back. " Doesn't Mr. Price 
 do us tbe bonour of saying positively whether he 
 will come or not ?" 
 
 " Oh, you know what Jack Price is. He says 
 he'll come, and nine times out of ten he don't come ; 
 and then the tenth time he comes, and people have 
 to put up with him." 
 
 My lord cleared his throat significantly, as who 
 should say that he, at all events, did not feel in- 
 clined to put up with this system of tithes in the 
 fulfilment of Mr. Jack Price's promises. 
 
 " If he comes," said Lady Seely, addressing 
 Algernon, "you'll have to walk into dinner by 
 yourself. I've only got one young lady; and^ if 
 Jack comes, he must have her." 
 
 " Where is Castalia ?" asked my lord. 
 " Oh, I suppose she's dressing. Castalia is 
 always the slowest creature at her toilet I ever knew." 
 Algernon had read up the family genealogy in 
 the " Peerage," under his mother's instructions, suf- 
 ficiently to be aware that Lord and Lady Seely were 
 childless, having lost their only son in a boating 
 accident years ago. " Castalia," then, could not be 
 a daughter of the house. Who was she ? A young 
 lady who was evidently at present living with the 
 Seely s, whom they called by her Christian name, 
 and who was habitually a loDg time at her toilet !
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 239 
 
 Algernon felt a little agreeable excitement and 
 curiosity on the subject of the tardy Castalia. 
 
 The door was thrown open. '' Here she 
 comes!'' thought Algernon, settling his cravat as 
 he threw a quick side glance at a mirror. 
 
 " General and Lady Harriet Dormer," an- 
 nounced the servant. 
 
 There entered a tall, elegant woman, leaning on 
 the arm of a short, stout, benevolent-looking man 
 in spectacles. To these personages Algernon was 
 duly presented, being introduced, much to his 
 gratification, by Lady Seely, as "A young cousin 
 of mine, Mr. Ancram Errington, who has just come 
 to town." Then, having made his bow to General 
 Dormer, who smiled and shook hands with him, 
 Algernon stood opposite to the graceful Lady 
 Harriet, and was talked to very kindly and 
 pleasantly, and felt extremely content with himself 
 and his surroundings. Nevertheless he watched 
 with some impatience for the appearance of 
 '^Castalia;" and forgot his usual self-possession 
 so far as to turn his head, and break off in the 
 middle of a sentence he was uttering to Lady 
 Harriet, when he heard the door open again. But 
 once more he was disappointed; for, this time, 
 dinner was announced, and Lord Seely offered his 
 arm to Lady Harriet and led the way out of the 
 room.
 
 240 A GH ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 " No Jack/' said Lady Seely, as she passed out 
 before Algernon. '' And no Castalia ! " said my 
 lord over his shoulder, in a tone of vexation, 
 
 Algernon followed his seniors alone ; but just as 
 he got out on to the staircase there appeared a 
 lady, leisurely descending from an upper floor, at 
 whom Lord Seely looked up reproachfully. 
 
 "Late, late, Castalia!" said he, and shook his 
 head solemnly. 
 
 " Oh no. Uncle Valentine ; just in time,'' re- 
 plied the lady. 
 
 " Castalia, take Ancram's arm, and do let us 
 get to dinner before the soup is cold," said Lady 
 Seely. "Give your arm to Miss Kilfinane, and 
 come along." And her ladyship's pea-green satin 
 swept downstaii'S after Lady Harriet's sober purple 
 draperies. Algernon bowed, and offered his arm 
 to the lady beside him ; she placed her hand 
 on it almost without looking at him, and they 
 entered the dining-room vathout having exchanged 
 a word. 
 
 The dining-room was better lighted than the 
 staircase, and Algernon took an early opportunity 
 of looking at his companion. She was not very 
 young, being, in fact, nearly thirty, but looking* 
 older. Neither was she handsome. She was very 
 thin, sallow, and sickly-looking, with a small round 
 face, not wrinkled, but crumpled, as it were, into
 
 A CH ARMING FELLOW. 241 
 
 queer, fretful lines. Her eyes were briglit and 
 well-shaped, but deeply sunken, and she had a 
 great deal of thick, pale-brown hair, worn in huge 
 bows and festoons on the top of her head, according 
 to the extreme of the mode of that day. Her 
 dress displayed more than it was judicious to dis- 
 play, in an aesthetic point of view, of very lean 
 shoulders, and was of a bright, soft, pink hue, that 
 would have been trying to the most blooming 
 complexion. Altogether, the Honourable Castalia 
 Ealfinane's appearance was disappointing, and her 
 manner was not so attractive as to make up for 
 lack of beauty. Her face expressed a mixture of 
 querulousness and hauteur, and she spoke in a 
 languid drawl, with strange peevish inflections. 
 
 ''^ You and I ought to be some sort of relations to 
 each other, oughtn't we?" said Algernon, having 
 taken in all the above particulars in a series of rapid 
 observations. 
 
 " Why ? " returned the lady, without raising her 
 eyes from her soup-plate. 
 
 " Because you are Lady Seely's niece and I am 
 her cousin.'' 
 
 " Who says that I am Lady Seely's niece ? " 
 
 " I thought," stammered Algernon — " I fancied 
 — you called Lord Seely 'Uncle Valentine?'" 
 
 Even his equanimity, and a certain glow of 
 complacency he felt at finding himself where he 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 242 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 was, were a little disturbed by Miss Castalia's 
 freezing manner. 
 
 " I am Lord Seely's niece/' returned she. 
 Then, after a little pause, having finished her 
 soup, she leaned back in her chair and stared at 
 Algernon, who pretended — ^not quite successfully — 
 to be unconscious of her scrutiny. Apparently, the 
 result of it was favourable to Algernon; for the 
 lady's manner thawed perceptibly, and she began to 
 talk to him. She had evidently heard of him from 
 Lady Seely, and understood the exact degree of his 
 relationship to that great lady. 
 
 " Did you ever meet the Dormers before ? " 
 asked Miss Kilfinane. 
 
 '' Never. How should I ? You know I am the 
 merest country mouse. I never was in London in 
 my life, until last Friday.'^ 
 
 " Oh, but the Dormers don't live in town. In- 
 deed, they are here very seldom. You might have 
 met them ; their place is in the West of England." 
 Algernon, after a rapid balancing of pros and 
 cons, resolved to be absolutely candid. With his 
 brightest smile and most arched eyebrows, he began 
 to give Miss Kilfinane an almost unvarnished 
 description of his life at Whitford. Almost unvar- 
 nished ; but it is no more easy to teU the simple 
 truth only occasionally, than it is to stand quite up- 
 right only occasionally. Mind and muscles will fall
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 243 
 
 back to their habitual posture. So that it may be 
 doubted whether Miss Kilfinane received an accu- 
 rate notion of the precise degree of poverty and 
 obscurity in which the young man who was speaking 
 to her had hitherto lived. 
 
 " And so,^^ said she, " you have come to London 
 to " 
 
 "To seek my fortune/^ said Algernon merrily. 
 "It is the proper and correct beginning to a story. 
 And I think I have had a piece of good luck at the 
 very outset by way of a good omen.^^ 
 
 Miss Kilfinane opened her eyes interrogatively, 
 but said nothing. 
 
 " I think it was a piece of luck for me/' con- 
 tinued Algernon, emboldened by having secured 
 the scornful lady's attention, and perhaps a little 
 also by the wine he had drunk, " a great piece of 
 good luck that Mr, Jack Price, whoever he may be, 
 did not turn up this evening." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because, if he had, I should not have been 
 allowed the honour of bringing you in to dinner." 
 
 " Oh yes ! I should have had to go in with 
 Jack, I suppose," answered the lady with a little 
 smile. 
 
 " Please, Miss Kilfinane, who is Jack Price ? I 
 do so want to know ! " 
 
 " Jack Pi'ice is Lord Mullingar's son."
 
 244 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 " But what is lie ? And wliy do people want to 
 have him so much, that thej put up with his disap- 
 pointing them nine times out of ten ? " 
 
 " As to what he is — well, he was in the Guards, 
 and he gave that up. Then they got him a place 
 somewhere — in Africa, or South America, or some- 
 where — and he gave that up. Then he got the 
 notion that he would be a farmer in Canada, and 
 went out with an axe to cut down the trees, and a 
 plough to plough the ground afterwards, and he 
 gave that up. Now he does nothing particular." 
 
 '' And has he found his vocation at last ? " 
 
 " I don^t know, I'm sure," said Miss Kilfinane, 
 languidly. Her power of perceiving a joke was 
 very limited. 
 
 " Thanks. Now I know all about Mr. Price ; 
 except — except why everybody wants to invite 
 him." 
 
 '^That I really cannot tell you." 
 
 "Then you don't share the general enthusiasm 
 about him ? " 
 
 " I don't know that there is any general enthu- 
 siasm. Only, of course — don't you know how it 
 is ? — people have got into the way of putting up 
 with him, and letting him do as he likes." 
 
 " He's a very fortunate young man, I should 
 say." 
 
 " Young man ! " Miss Kilfinane laughed a
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 245 
 
 liard little laugh. '^ Why Jack Price is ever so 
 old ! '' 
 
 " Eyer so old^ is lie ? " eclioed Algernon, gen- 
 uinely surprised. 
 
 " He must be turned iortj/' said the fah' 
 Castalia, rising in obedience to a look from Lady 
 Seely. And if she had been but fifteen herself, 
 she could not have said it with a more infantine 
 air. 
 
 After the ladies had withdrawn, Algernon had 
 to sit for about twenty minutes in the shade, as 
 it were, silent, and listening with modesty and 
 discretion to the conversation of his seniors. Had 
 they talked politics, Algernon would have been 
 able to throw in a word or two ; but Lord Seely 
 and his guest talked, not of principles or party, 
 but of persons. The persons talked of were such 
 as Lord Seely conceived to be useful or hostile 
 to his party, and he discussed their conduct, and 
 criticised the tactics of ministers in regard to 
 them, with much warmth. But, unfortunately, 
 Algernon neither knew, nor could pretend to 
 know, anything about these individuals, so he 
 sipped his wine, and looked at the family por- 
 traits which hung round the room, in silence. 
 
 My lord made a kind of apology to him, as 
 they were going upstairs to the drawing-room. 
 
 ",^1'm afraid you were bored, Mr. Eriungton.
 
 246 A GH ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 I am sorry^ for your sake, tliat Mr. Price did 
 not lionour us with Ms company. You would 
 have found him much more amusing than us old 
 fogies.^' 
 
 Algernon knew, when Lord Seely talked of 
 Mr. Price not having honoured them with his 
 company, that my lord was indignant against that 
 gentleman. "I have no doubt Mr. Price is a 
 very agreeable person/' said he, "but I did not 
 regret him, my lord. I thought it a great privi- 
 lege to be allowed to listen to you.'' 
 
 Later in the evening Algy overheard Lord 
 Seely say to General Dormer, " He's a remark- 
 ably intelligent young fellow, I assure you." 
 
 "He has a capital manner," returned the gene- 
 ral. "There is something very taking about him, 
 indeed." 
 
 " Oh yes, manner ; yes ; a very good manner 
 — but there's more judgment, more solidity about 
 him than appears on the surface." 
 
 Meanwhile, Algernon went on jflourishingly, and 
 ingratiated himself with every one. He steered 
 his way, with admirable tact, past various perils, 
 such as must inevitably threaten one who aims at 
 universal popularity. Lady Harriet was delighted 
 with his singing, and Lady Harriet's expressed 
 approbation pleased Lady Seely; for the Dormers 
 were considered to be great musical connoisseurs.
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 247 
 
 and their judgment liad considerable "weiglit among 
 tlieir own set. Their own set further supposed 
 that the verdict of the Dormers was important to 
 professional artists : a delusion which the givers 
 of second-rate concerts, who depended on Lady- 
 Harriet to get rid of many seven-and-sixpenny 
 tickets during the season, were at no pains to 
 disturb. Then, Algernon took the precaution to 
 keep away from Lord Seely, and to devote him- 
 self to my lady, during the remainder of the 
 evening. This behaviour had so good an effect, 
 that she called him ^''Ancram," and bade him 
 go and talk to Castalia, who was sitting alone on 
 a distant ottoman, with a distinctly sour expression 
 of countenance. 
 
 " How did you get on with Castalia at dinner ? " 
 asked my lady. 
 
 " Miss Kilfinane was very kind to me, ma'am. ^^ 
 
 " Was she? Well, she don't make herself agree- 
 able to everybody, so consider yourself honoured. 
 Castalia's a very clever girl. She can draw, make 
 wax flowers, and play the piano beautifully." 
 
 " Can she really ? Will she play to-night ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know. Go and ask her." 
 
 "May I?" 
 
 "Yes; be off." 
 
 Miss Kilfinane did not move or raise her eyes 
 when Algernon went and stood before her.
 
 248 A GEABMING FELLOW. 
 
 " I have come witli a petition/^ lie said, after 
 a little pause. 
 
 " Have you ? '' 
 
 " Yes ; will you play to-niglit ? " 
 
 "No/^ 
 
 " Oh, that^s very cruel ! I wish, you would ! '* 
 
 "I don't like playing before the Dormers. 
 They set up for being such connoisseurs, and I 
 hate that kind of thing.'' 
 
 "I am sure you can have no reason to fear 
 their criticism." 
 
 " I don't want to have my performance picked 
 to pieces in that knowing sort of way. I play for 
 my own amusement, and I don't want to be criti- 
 cised, and applauded, and patronised." 
 
 "But how can people help applauding when 
 you play ? Lady Seely says you play ex- 
 quisitely." 
 
 " Did she tell you to ask me to play ? " 
 
 "Not exactly. But she said I might ask 
 you." 
 
 At this moment General Dormer came up, and 
 said, with his most benevolent smile, " Won't 
 you give us a little music, Miss Kilfinane ? Some 
 Beethoven, now ! I see a volume of his sonatas 
 on the piano." 
 
 " I hate Beethoven," returned Miss Kilfinane. 
 
 " Hate Beethoven ! No, no, you don't. It's
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 249 
 
 quite impossible ! A pianist like you ! Oli no^ 
 Miss KilfinanOj it is out of tlie question/' 
 
 " Yes, I do. I liate all classical music, and 
 the sort of stuff tliat people talk about it/' 
 
 The general smiled again, shook his head, 
 shrugged his shoulders, and walked away. 
 
 " Miss Kilfinane, you are ferociously cruel ! " 
 said Algernon under his breath as General Dormer 
 turned his back on them. The little fear he had 
 had of Castalia's chilly manner and ungracious 
 tongue had quite vanished. Algernon was not apt 
 to be in awe of anyone ; and he certainly was 
 not in awe of Castalia Kilfinane. "Why did 
 you tell the general that you hated Beethoven ? " 
 he went on saucily. "I'm quite sure you don't 
 hate Beethoven ! " 
 
 " I hate all the kind of professional jargon 
 which the Dormers affect about music. Music is 
 all very well, but it isn't our business, any more 
 than tailoring or millinery is our business. To 
 hear the Dormers talk, you would think it the 
 most important matter in the world to decide 
 whether this fiddler is better than that fiddler, 
 or what is the right time to play a fugue of 
 Bach's in." 
 
 ^^I'm such an ignoramus that I'm afraid I 
 don't even know with any precision what a fugue 
 of Bach's is ! " said Algernon, ingenuously. He
 
 250 A GSARMING FELLOW. 
 
 tliouorlit lie had learned to understand Miss Castalia. 
 Nevertheless^ when, later in the evening, Lady- 
 Harriet asked him in her pretty silver tones, " And 
 do you, too, hate classical music, Mr. Errington ? " 
 he professed the most unbounded love and re- 
 verence for the great masters. " I have had few 
 opportunities of hearing fine music^ Lady Harriet/' 
 said he ; " but it is the thing I have longed for 
 all my life." Whereupon Lady Harriet, much 
 pleased at the prospect of such a disciple, invited 
 him to go to her house every Saturday morning, 
 when he would hear some of the best performers 
 in London execute some of the best music. " I 
 only ask real listeners," said Lady Harriet. " We 
 are just a few music-lovers who take the thing 
 very much au serieux." 
 
 On the whole, when Algernon thought over his 
 evening, sitting over the fire in his bedroom at the 
 inn, he acknowledged to himself that he had been 
 successful. '' Lady Seely is the toughest customer, 
 though ! What a fish-wife she looks beside that 
 elegant Lady Harriet ! But she can put on airs of 
 a great lady too, when she likes. It's a very fine 
 line that divides dignity from impudence. Take 
 her wig oif, wash her face, and clothe her in a 
 short cotton gown with a white apron, and how 
 many people would know that Belinda, Lady Seely, 
 had ever been anything but a cook, or the landlady
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 251 
 
 of a public-liouse ? Well, I think I am cleverer 
 tlian any of ^em. And, after all, that's a great 
 point.''^ With which comfortable reflection Alger- 
 non Ancram Errington went to bed, and to sleep.
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 On the day following the dinner at Lord Seely^s, 
 Algernon received a card, importing tliat Mrs. 
 Machyn-Stubbs would be at home that evening. 
 
 Of the lady he knew nothing, except that she 
 was an elder sister of young Pawkins, of Pudcombe 
 Hall; and that her family, who were people of 
 consideration in Whitford and its neighbourhood, 
 thought Jemima to have made a good match in. 
 marrying Mr. Machyn-Stubbs. In giving him the 
 letter of introduction, Orlando Pawkins had let fall 
 a word or two as to the position his sister held in 
 London society. 
 
 "J can^t send anybody and everybody to the 
 Machyn-Stubbses,^^ said young Pawkins. "In 
 their position, it wouldn^t be fair to inflict our 
 bucohc magnates on them. But Pm sure Jemima 
 will be very glad to make your acquaintance, old 
 fellow.'^ 
 
 Algernon was quite free fi'om arrogance. He
 
 A CHAEMING FELLOW. 253 
 
 would have been well enougli contented to dine 
 witli Mr. Macliyn-Stubbs, bad that gentleman been 
 a grocer or a cheesemonger. And, in that case^ 
 he would probably have derived a good deal of 
 amusement from any little vulgarities which might 
 have marked the manners of his host, and would 
 have entertained his genteeler friends by a 
 humorous imitation of the same. But he was not 
 in the least overawed by the prospect of meeting 
 Mrs. Machyn-Stubbs, and was quite aware that he 
 probably owed his introduction to her, to young 
 Pawkins^s knowledge of the fact that he was Lady 
 Seely's relation. 
 
 Algernon betook himself to the house of Mrs. 
 Machyn-Stubbs, in the fashionable neighbourhood 
 before mentioned, about half -past ten o'clock, and 
 found the small reception-rooms already fuller than 
 was agreeable. Mrs. Machyn-Stubbs received him 
 very graciously. She was a pretty woman, with a 
 smooth fair face and light hair, and she was dressed 
 with as much good taste as was compatible with the 
 extreme of the prevailing fashion. She smiled a 
 good deal, and was quite destitute of any sense of 
 humour. 
 
 " So glad to see you, Mr. Errington," said she, 
 when Algernon had made his bow. ''^You and 
 Orlando are great friends, are you not ? You must 
 let me make you acquainted with my husband."
 
 254 A CHAEMING FELLOW. 
 
 Then slie handed Algernon over to a stout, red- 
 faced, white-haired gentleman, much older than 
 herself, who shook hands with him, said, " How 
 d'ye do ? '^ and " How long have you been in 
 town ? " and then appeared to consider that he had 
 done all that could be expected of him in the way 
 of conversation. 
 
 " I suppose you don't know many people here, 
 Mr. Errington ? " said Mrs. Machyn-Stubbs, seeing 
 that Algernon was standing silent in the shadow 
 of her husband. 
 
 "Not auy. You know I have never been in 
 London before.'' 
 
 " Haven't you, really ? But perhaps we may 
 have some mutual acquaintances notwithstanding. 
 Let me see who is here ! " said the lady, looking 
 round her rooms. 
 
 "Are you acquainted with the Dormers, Mrs. 
 Machyn-Stubbs ? " 
 
 " The Dormers ? Let me see " 
 
 " General and Lady Harriet Dormer." 
 
 " Oh ! no ; I don't think I am. Of course I 
 must have met them. In the course of the season, 
 sooner or later, one meets everybody." 
 
 " Do you know Miss Kilfinane ? " 
 
 " Miss Kilfinane ? I — I can't recall at this mo- 
 ment " 
 
 " She is a sort of connection of mine ; not a
 
 A CB ARMING FELLOW. 255 
 
 relation, for slie is Lord Seely's niece, not my 
 
 " Oh, to be sure ! You are a cousin of Lady 
 Seely. Yes, yes ; I had forgotten. But Orlando 
 did mention it." 
 
 In truth, the fact of Algernon's relationship to 
 Lady Seely was the only one concerning him which 
 had dwelt in Mrs. Machyn-Stubbs's memory. Pre- 
 sently she resumed : 
 
 " I should like to introduce you to a great friend 
 of ours — the most delightful creature ! I hope he 
 will come to-night, but he is very difficult to catch. 
 He is a son of Lord Mullingar.'^ 
 "What, Jack Price?'' 
 " Oh, you know him, do you ? " 
 " Only by reputation. He was to have dined at 
 Lord Seely's last night, when I was there. But he 
 didn't show." 
 
 " Oh, I know he's dreadfully uncertain. But I 
 must say, however, that he is generally very good 
 about coming to me. It's qtdte wonderful. I'm 
 sure I don't know why I am so favoured ! " 
 
 Then Algernon was presented to a rather awful 
 dowager, with two stiif daughters, to whom he 
 talked as well as he could ; and the nicest looking 
 of whom he took into the tea-room, where there 
 was a great crush, and where people trod on each 
 other's toes, and poked then* elbows into each
 
 256 A CHABMINO FELLOW. 
 
 other's ribs^ to procure a cup of hay-coloured tea 
 and a biscuit tliat bad seen better days. 
 
 "Upon my word/^ tbougbt Algernon, "if tbis 
 is London society, I tbink Wbitford society better 
 hxn." But tben be reflected tbat Mrs. Macbyn- 
 Stubbs was not a real leader of fashionable society. 
 Sbe was not quite a rose berself, although she bved 
 near enough to the roses for their scent to cling, 
 more or less faintly, about her garments. He was 
 not bored, for his quick powers of perception, and 
 lively appreciation of the ludicrous, enabled him to 
 gather considerable amusement from the scene. 
 Especially did he feel amused and in his element 
 when, on an allusion to his cousinship to Lady 
 Seely, thrown out in the airiest, most haphazard 
 way, the awful dowager and the stiff daughters 
 unbent, and became as gracious as temperament in 
 the one case, and painfully tight stays in the other, 
 permitted. 
 
 " He's a very agreeable person, your young 
 friend, Mr. Ancram Errington,'" said the dowager, 
 later on in the evening, to Mrs. Machyn-Stubbs. 
 
 " Oh yes ; he's very nice indeed. He is a great 
 favourite with my people. He half lives at our 
 place, I believe, when Orlando is at home." 
 
 " Indeed ! He is — a — a — connected with the 
 Seelys, I believe, in some way ? " 
 
 " Second cousin. Lady Seely was an Ancram —
 
 A CEABMING FELLOW. 257 
 
 Warwickshire Ancrams, you know/' returned Mrs. 
 Macliyn-Stubbs, wlio knew lier "Peerage'' nearly by 
 heart. Whereupon the dowager went back to her 
 daughter, by whose side, having nothing else to do, 
 Algernon was still sitting, and told him that she 
 should be happy to see him at her house in Portland 
 Place any Friday afternoon, between four and six 
 o'clock during the season. 
 
 Presently, when the company was giving forth a 
 greater amount and louder degree of talk than had 
 hitherto been the case — for Herr Doppeldaun had 
 just sat down to the grand piano — Algernon's quick 
 eyes perceived a movement near the door of the 
 principal drawing-room, and saw Mrs. Machyn- 
 Stubbs advance with extended hand, and more 
 eagerness than she had thrown into her reception of 
 most of the company, to greet a gentleman who 
 entered with a kind of plunge, tripping over a bear- 
 skin rug that lay before the door, and dropping his 
 hat. 
 
 He was a short, broad-chested man, with a bald 
 forehead and a fiinge of curly chestnut hair round 
 his head. He was evidently extremely near-sighted, 
 and wore a glass in one eye, the effort of keeping 
 which in its place occasioned an odd contortion o£ 
 his facial muscles. He was rubicund, and looked 
 like a man who might grow to be very stout later in 
 life. At present he was only rather stout, and was 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 braced, and strapped, and tightened, so as to make 
 the best of bis figure. His dress was tbe dress of 
 a dandy of that day, and be wore a fragrant bot- 
 bouse flower in bis button-bole. 
 
 " Tbat must be Jack Price \" tbougbt Algernon, 
 be scarcely knew wby ; and tbe next moment be 
 got away from tbe dowager and ber daughters, and 
 sauntered towards the door. 
 
 " Ob, here is Mr. Errington," said Mrs. Machyn- 
 Stubbs, looking round at him as be made bis way 
 through the crowd. " Do let me introduce you 
 to Mr. Price. This is Mr. Ancram Errington, a 
 great friend of my brother Orlando. You have 
 met Orlando, I think ? " 
 
 " Oh, indeed, I have ! " said Mr. Jack Price, in 
 a rich sweet voice, and with a very decidedly 
 marked brogue. '' Orlando is one of my dearest 
 friends. Delightful fellow, what ? Orlando's friend 
 must be my friend, if he will, what ? " 
 
 Tbe little interrogation at the end of tbe 
 sentence meant nothing, but was a mere trick. 
 Tbe use of it, with a soft rising inflection of Mr. 
 Jack Price^s very musical voice, bad once upon a 
 time been pronounced to be " captivating " by an 
 enthusiastic Irish lady. But be bad not fallen into 
 the habit of using it from any idea that it was 
 captivating, nor bad be desisted from it since all 
 projects of captivation bad departed from his mind.
 
 A CE ARMING FELLOW. 259 
 
 " I was to liave met you at dinner, last night, 
 Mr. Price/' said Algernon, shaking liis proffered 
 hand. 
 
 " Last niofht ? I was — where is it I was last 
 night ? Oh, at the Blazonvilles ! Yes, of course, 
 what ? Why didn't you come, then, Mr. Errington ? 
 The Duke would have been delighted — perfectly 
 charmed to see you ! " 
 
 "Well, that may be doubtful, seeing that I 
 cannot flatter myself that his Grace is even aware 
 of my existence," said Algernon, looking at Mr. 
 Price with twinkling eyes, and his mouth twitching 
 with the effort to avoid a broad grin. 
 
 Jack Price looked back at him, puzzled and 
 smiling. " Eh ? How was it then, what ? Was 
 it — it wasn't me, was it ? " 
 
 Algernon laughed outright. 
 
 " Ah now, Mr. — Mr. — my dear fellow, where 
 was it that you were to have met me ?" 
 
 "My cousin. Lady Seely, was hoping for the 
 pleasure of your company, Mr. Price. She was 
 under the impression that you had promised to 
 dine with her." 
 
 Jack Price fell back a step and gave himself 
 a sounding slap on the forehead. " Good gracious 
 goodness!" he exclaimed. "You don't mean to 
 say that ? " 
 
 " I do, indeed."
 
 260 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 "Ah, now, upon my lionour, I am tlie most 
 unfortunate fellow under the sun ! I don^t know 
 L.0W tlie deuce it is tliat these kind of misfortunes 
 are always happening to me. What will I say 
 to Lady Seely ? She^ll never speak to me any 
 more, I suppose, what ? ■" 
 
 " You should keep a little book and note down 
 your engagements, Mr. Price," said Mrs. Machyn- 
 Stubbs, as she walked away to some other guest. 
 
 Mr. Price gave Algernon a comical look, half- 
 rueful, half-amused. '^I don't quite see myself 
 with the little book, entering all my engagements,'' 
 said he. "I daresay you've heard already from 
 Lady Seely of my sins and shortcomings?" 
 
 " At all events, I have heard this : that what- 
 ever may be your sins and shortcomings, they 
 are always forgiven." 
 
 " I am afraid I bear an awfully bad character, 
 my dear Mr. " 
 
 "Errington; Ancram Errington." 
 
 " To be sure ! Ah, I know your name well 
 enough. But names are among the things that 
 slip my memory. It is a serious misfortune, 
 what?" 
 
 Then the two began to chat together. And 
 when the crowd began to diminish^ and the rattle 
 of carriages grew more frequent down in the 
 street beneath the drawing-room windows. Jack
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 261 
 
 Price proposed to Algernon to go and sup with 
 Mni at his club. They walked away together, 
 arm-in-arm, and, as they left Mrs. Machyn-Stubbs's 
 doorstep, Mr. Price assured his new acquaintance 
 that that lady was the nicest creature in the world, 
 and one of his dearest friends ; and that he could 
 take upon himself to assert that Mrs. Machyu- 
 Stubbs would be only too dehghted to receive 
 him (Algernon) at any time and as often as he 
 liked. " It will give her real pleasure, now, 
 what?^^ said Jack Price, with quite a glow of 
 hospitality on behaK of Mrs. Machyn-Stubbs. 
 Then they went to Mr. Price's club. It was 
 neither a pohtical club, nor a fashionable club, 
 nor a grand club; but a club that was widely 
 miscellaneous, and decidedly jolly. Algernon, be- 
 fore he returned to his lodging that night, had 
 come to the opinion that London was, after all, 
 a great deal better fun than Whitford. And Jack 
 Price, when he called upon Lady Seely the next 
 day, to make his peace with her, declared that 
 young Errington was, really now, the most de- 
 lightful and dearest boy in the world, and that 
 he was quite certain that the young fellow was 
 most warmly attached to Lord and Lady Seely. 
 
 All this was agreeable enough, and Algernon 
 would have been content to go on in the same 
 way to the end of the London season had it been
 
 262 A CHAEMING FELLOW. 
 
 possible. But careless as lie was about money, lie 
 was not careless about tlie luxuries whicli money 
 supplies. Certainly, if tradesmen and landlords 
 could only be induced to give unlimited credit, 
 Algernon would bave bad none the less pleasure 
 in availing bimself of tbeir wares, because he had 
 not paid for them in coin of the realm. But as 
 to doing without, or even limiting himself to an 
 inferior quality and restricted quantity, that was 
 a matter about which he was not at all indifferent. 
 He was received on a familiar footing in the 
 Seelys^ house; and his reception there opened to 
 him many other houses, in which it was more or 
 less agreeable and flattering to be received. Among 
 the Machyn-Stubbses of London society he was 
 looked upon as quite a desirable guest, and re- 
 ceived a good deal of petting, which he took with 
 the best grace in the world. And all this was, 
 as has been said, pleasant enough. But, as weeks 
 went on, Algernon's money began to run short; 
 and he soon beheld the dismal prospect ahead — 
 and not very far ahead — of his last sovereign. 
 And he was in debt. 
 
 As to being in debt, that had nothing in it 
 appalling to our young man's imagination. What 
 frightened him was the conviction that he should 
 not be permitted to go on being in debt. Other 
 people owed money, and seemed to enjoy life none
 
 A GHAEMING FELLOW. 263 
 
 the less. Mr. Jack Price, for instancCj liad an 
 allowance from his father, on which no one pre- 
 tended to expect him to live. And he appeared 
 very comfortable and contented in the midst of a 
 rolling sea of debt, which sometimes ebbed a little, 
 and sometimes flowed alarmingly high; but which, 
 during the last ten years or so, he had managed 
 to keep pretty fairly at the same level. But then 
 Mr. Price was the Honourable John Patrick Price, 
 the Earl of Mullingar^s son — a younger son, it 
 was true ; and neither Lord Mullingar, nor Lord 
 Mullingar^s heir, was hkely to have the means, or 
 the inclination, to fish him out of the rolling sea 
 aforesaid. At the most, they would throw him a 
 plank now and then just to keep him afloat. 
 Still there was something to be got out of Jack 
 Price by a West- end tradesman who knew his 
 business. Something was to be got in the way 
 of money, and, perhaps, something more in the 
 way of connection. Upon the whole, it may be 
 supposed that the West-end tradesmen understood 
 what they were about, when they went on sup- 
 plying the Honourable John Patrick Price with all 
 sorts of comforts and luxuries, season after season. 
 But with Algernon the case was widely dif- 
 ferent, and he knew it. He had ventured to speak 
 to Lord Seely about his prospects, and to ask 
 that nobleman^s '^ advice.'' But Lord Seely
 
 264 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 had not seemed able to offer any advice whicli it 
 was practicable to foUow. Indeed^ bow sbould be 
 bave done so, seeing tbat be was ignorant of most 
 of tbe material facts of tbe case ? He knew in a 
 general way tbat young Ancram (Algernon bad 
 come to be called so in tbe Seely bousebold) was 
 poor ; but between Lord Seely's conception of tbe 
 sort of poverty wbicb migbt pincb a well-bom 
 young gentleman, wbo always appeared in tbe 
 neatest-fitting sboes and fresbest of gloves, and 
 tbe reality of Algernon's finances, tbere was a 
 wide discrepancy. Algernon bad indeed talked 
 freely, and witb mucb appearance of frankness, 
 about bis life in Wbitf ord ; but it may • be doubted 
 wbetber Lord Seely, or bis wife eitber — altbougb 
 sbe, doubtless, came nearer to tbe trutb in ber 
 imaginings on tbe subject — at all realised sucb 
 facts as tbat Mrs. Errington bad no maid to 
 attend on ber ; tbat ber lodgings cost ber eigbteen 
 sbillings a week ; and tbat tbe smell of cbeese 
 from tbe sbop below was occasionally a source of 
 discomfort in ber only sitting-room. 
 
 Witb Lord Seely Algernon bad made bimself 
 a great favourite, and tbe proof of it was, tbat 
 my lord actually tbougbt about bim wben be was 
 absent ; and one day said to bis wife, " I wisb, 
 Belinda, tbat we could do sometbing for Ancram.'* 
 
 " Do sometbing for bim ! I tbink we do a
 
 A CHAHIIING FELLOW. 265 
 
 great deal for liim. He lias the run of tte liouse, 
 and I introduce iiim riglit and left. And Le is 
 always asked to sing wlien we liave people/^ 
 
 "That latter looks rather like his doing some- 
 thing for us, I think/' 
 
 "Not at all. It's a great advantage for a 
 young fellow in his position to be brought for- 
 ward, and 'allowed to show off his httle gifts in 
 that way." 
 
 " He is wasting his time. I wish we could get 
 him something to do." 
 
 "I am sure you have plenty of claims on you 
 that come before him." 
 
 "I — I did speak to the Duke of Blazonville 
 about him the other day," said my lord, with 
 the shghtest hesitation in the world. 
 
 The Duke of Blazonville was in the cabinet^ 
 and had been a colleague of Lord Seely's years 
 ago. 
 
 " What on earth made you do that, Valentine ? 
 You know very well that the next thing the duke 
 has to give I particularly want for Eeginald." 
 
 " Oh, but what I should ask for young Ancram 
 would be something at which your nephew Regiaald 
 would probably " 
 
 " Turn up his nose ? " 
 
 " Something which Reginald would not care 
 about taking."
 
 266 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 " Reginald wouldn^t go abroad^ except to Italy. 
 Noi% indeed, anywhere in Italy but to Naples/^ 
 
 " Exactly. Whether the duke would consider 
 that he was particularly serving the interests of 
 diplomacy by sending Reginald to Naples, I don^t 
 know. But, at all events, Ancram could not in- 
 terfere with that project." 
 
 " Serving ? Nonsense ! The duke would 
 
 do it to obhge me. As to Ancram, I have latterly 
 had a kind of plan in my head about Ancram.''^ 
 
 " About a place for him ? " 
 
 "Well, yes; a place, if you like to call it so. 
 What do you say to his coming abroad with us in 
 the autumn ? " 
 
 " Eh ! Coming abroad with us ? " 
 
 " Of course we should have to pay all his 
 expenses. But I think he would be amusing, and 
 perhaps useful. He talks French very well, and is 
 lively and good-tempered." 
 
 " I have no doubt he would be a most charming 
 travelling companion " 
 
 " I donH know about that. But I should take 
 him out of kindness, and to do him a service." 
 
 " But I don^t see of what use such a plan would 
 be to him, Belinda." 
 
 " Well, Fve an idea in my head, I tell you. I 
 have kept my eyes open, and I fancy I see a chance 
 for Ancram." ,
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 267 
 
 " You are very mysterious, my dear ! " said Lord 
 Seely, with a little shrug. 
 
 "Well, least said, soonest mended. I shall be 
 mysterious a little longer. And, meanwhile, I 
 think we might make him the offer to take him 
 to Switzerland with us, since you have no objec- 
 tion." 
 
 '^I have no objection, certainly.^' 
 
 " I think I shall mention it to him, then. And, 
 if I were you, I wouldn't bother the duke about him 
 just yet." 
 
 " But what is this notion of yours, Belinda ? " 
 
 The exclamation rose to my lady's lips, " How 
 inquisitive men are ! " but she suppressed it. It 
 was the kind of speech which particularly angered 
 Lord Seely, who much disliked being lumped in 
 with his fellow-creatures on the ground of common 
 qualities. Even a compliment, so framed that my 
 lord was supposed to share it with a number of 
 other persons, would have displeased him. So my 
 lady said, "Well, now, Valentine, you'll begin to 
 laugh at me, very likely, but I believe I'm right. 
 I think Castalia is very well inclined to like this 
 young fellow. And she might do worse." 
 
 " Castalia ! Like him ? Why, you don't 
 
 mean ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do," returned my lady, nodding her 
 head. "That's just what I do mean. I'm sui^e,
 
 268 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 tiie other erening, slie became quite sentimental 
 about liim/^ 
 
 " Good heavens, Belinda ! But the idea is 
 preposterous/^ 
 
 " Yes ; I knew you'd say so at first. That's 
 why I didn't want to say anything about it just 
 yet awhile." 
 
 " But allow me to say that, if you had any such 
 idea in your head, it was only proper that it should 
 be mentioned to me." 
 
 " Well, I have mentioned it." 
 
 Lord Seely clasped his hands behind his back, 
 and walked up and down the room in a stiff, abrupt 
 kind of march. At length he stopped opposite to 
 her ladyship, who was assiduously soothing Fido; 
 Fido having, for some occult reason, become 
 violently exasperated by his master's walking about 
 the room. 
 
 " Why, in the first place do send that brute 
 
 away," said his lordship, sharply. 
 
 "There! he's quiet now. Good Fido! Good 
 boy ! Mustn't bark and growl at master. Yes ; 
 you were saying ? " 
 
 " I was saying that, in the first place, Castalia 
 must be ten years older than this boy." 
 
 "About that, I should say. But if they 
 don't mind that, I don't see what it matters to 
 us."
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. ■ 269 
 
 " And lie has not any means, nor any prospect 
 of earning any, tliat I can see/^ 
 
 " Why, for that matter, Castalia hasn't a shiUing 
 in the world, you know. We have to find her in 
 everything, and so has your sister Juha, when 
 Castalia goes to stay with her. And if these two 
 could set their horses together — could, in a word, 
 make a match of it — why, you might do something 
 to provide for the two together, don^t you see ? 
 Killing two birds with one stone ! " 
 
 " Very much like killing two birds, indeed ! 
 What are they to live on ? " 
 
 '^If Ancram makes up to Castalia, you must 
 get him a place. Something modest, of course. I 
 don^t see that they can either of them expect a 
 grand thing." 
 
 "Putting all other considerations aside," said 
 my lord, drawing himself up, " it would be a very 
 odd sort of match for Castalia Kilfinane.'" 
 
 " Come ! his birth is as good as hers, any way. 
 If his father was an apothecary, her mother was a 
 poor curate^s daughter." 
 
 "Rector's daughter, Belinda. Dr. Vyse was a 
 learned man, and the rector of his parish." 
 
 " Oh, well, it all comes to the same thing. And 
 as to an odd sort of match, why, perhaps, an odd 
 match is better than none at all. You know 
 Castalia's no beauty. She don't grow younger;
 
 270 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 and she'll be unbearable in lier temper, if once she 
 thinks she's booked for an old maid." 
 
 Poor Lord Seely was much disquieted. He 
 had a kindly feeling for his orphan niece, which 
 would have ripened into affection if Miss Castalia's 
 character had been a little less repellent. And 
 he really liked Algernon Errington so much that 
 the notion of his marrying Castalia appeared to 
 him in the light of a sacrifice, even although he 
 held his own opinion as to the comparative good- 
 ness of the Ancram and Kilfinane blood. But, 
 nevertheless, such was Lady Seely's force of cha- 
 racter, that many days had not elapsed before his 
 lordship was silenced, if not convinced, on the 
 subject. And the invitation to go to Switzerland 
 was given to Algernon, and accepted.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 As tlie spring advanced, letters from Algernon 
 Errington arrived rather frequently at Whitford. 
 His motlier had ample scope for the exercise of her 
 pecuhar talent, in boasting about the reception 
 Algy had met with from her great relations in 
 town, the fine society he fi-equented, and the pro- 
 spect of still greater distinctions in store for him. 
 One or two troublesome persons, to be sure, would 
 ask for details, and inquire whether Lord Seely 
 meant to get Algy a place, and what tangible 
 benefits he had it in contemplation to bestow on 
 him. But to all such prosy, plodding individuals, 
 Mrs. Errington presented a perspective of vague 
 magnificence, which sometimes awed and generally 
 silenced them. 
 
 The big square letters on Bath post paper, 
 directed in Algernon's clear, graceful handwriting, 
 and bearing my Lord Seely's frank, in the form of 
 a blotchy sprawling autograph in one corner, were,
 
 272 A CB ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 however, palpable facts ; and Mrs. Errington made 
 tlie most of them. It was seldom tliat slie had 
 not one of them in her pocket. She would pull 
 them out, sometimes as though in mere absence of 
 mind, sometimes avowedly of set purpose, but in 
 either case she failed not to make them the occasion 
 for an almost endless variety of prospective and 
 retrospective boasting. 
 
 It must be owned that Algernon's letters were 
 delightful. They were written with such a fresh- 
 ness of observation, such a sense of enjoyment, 
 such a keen appreciation of fun — tempered always 
 by a wonderful knack of keeping his own figure 
 in a favourable light — that passages from them 
 were read aloud, and quoted at Whitford tea- 
 parties with a most enlivening effect. 
 
 "Those letters are written jpro bono puhlico," 
 Minnie Bodkin observed confidentially to her 
 mother. "No human being would address such 
 communications to Mrs. Errington for her sole 
 perusal.'' 
 
 "Well, I don't know, Minnie! Surely it is 
 natural enough that he should write long letters to 
 his mother, even without expecting her to read 
 them aloud to people." 
 
 " Very natural ; but not just such letters as he 
 does write, I think." 
 
 Minnie suppressed any further expression of
 
 A CEAEMING FELLOW. 273 
 
 Iier own slirewdness. Her confidence in herself 
 had been rudely shaken; and she made keen, 
 motive-probing speeches much seldomer than 
 formerly. And she could not but agree in the 
 general verdict, that Algernon's letters were very 
 amusing. Miss Chubb was delighted with them; 
 although they were the occasion of one or two 
 tough struggles for supremacy in the .knowledge 
 of fashionable life between herself and Mrs. 
 Errington. But Miss Chubb was really good- 
 natured, and Mrs. Errington was unshakeably 
 self-satisfied; so that no serious breach resulted 
 from these combats. 
 
 " Dormer — Lady Harriet Dormer ! " Miss Chubb 
 would say, musingly. " I think I must have met 
 her when I was staying with Mrs. Figgins and the 
 Bishop of Plumbunn. And the Dormers' place is 
 not so very far from Whitford, you know. I 
 believe I have heard papa speak of his acquaint- 
 ance with some of the- family.'' 
 
 "Oh no," Mrs. Errington would reply; "not 
 likely you should have ever met Lady Harriet at 
 Mrs. Figgins's. She is the Earl of Grandcourt's 
 daughter; and Lord Grandcourt had the repu- 
 tation of being the proudest nobleman in Eng- 
 land." 
 
 "Well, my dear Mrs. Errington," the spinster 
 would retort, bridling and tossing her head side- 
 
 YOL. I. T
 
 274 .1 CH ARMING FELLOW. 
 
 ways, "that could be no reason why his daughter 
 should not have visited the bishop ! A dignitary 
 of the Churchy you know ! And as to family — 
 I can assure you the Figginses were most aristo- 
 cratically connected/^ 
 
 " Besides^ Miss Chubb, Lady Harriet must have 
 been in the nursery in those days. She's only 
 six-and-thirty. You can see her age in the ' Peer- 
 age.' - 
 
 This was a kind of blow that usually silenced 
 poor Miss Chubb, who was sensitive on the score 
 of her age. But, on the whole, she was not dis- 
 pleased at the opportunity of airing her reminis- 
 cences of London ; and she did not always get 
 the worst of it in her encounters with Mrs. 
 Errington. 
 
 Mrs. Errington had one listener who, at all 
 events, was never tired of hearing Algy's letters 
 read and re-read, and whose interest in all thev 
 contained was vivid and inexhaustible. Rhoda 
 bestowed an amount of eager attention on the 
 brilliant epistles bearing Lord Seely's frank, which 
 even Mrs. Errington considered adequate to their 
 merits. 
 
 Often — not quite always — there would be a 
 little message. " How are all the good Maxfields ? 
 Say I asked. ■'^ Or sometimes, " Give my love to 
 Rhoda. '^ Mrs. Errington took Algernon's sending
 
 A CHARMING FELLOW. 275 
 
 liis love to Rlioda uiucli as slie would have taken 
 liis bidding' lier stroke the kitten for kirn. Skc 
 did not guess kow it set tke poor girl's heart 
 beating. It was only natural that Rhoda's face 
 should flush with pleasure at being so kindly and 
 condescendingly remembered. Still less could tke 
 wortky lady understand tke effect of her careless 
 words on Mr. Maxfield. Once she said in his 
 presence, " Have you any message for Mr. Alger- 
 non, Rhoda ?" (She had recently taken to speaking' 
 of ker son as "Mr.'^ Algernon; a ch'cumstance 
 wkich had not escaped Rhoda's sensitive observa- 
 tion.) " You know he always sends you his love." 
 
 " Oh, my young gentleman has not forgotten 
 Rhoda, then?'' said old Maxfield, without raising 
 his eyes from the ledger he was examining. 
 
 "'Algernon never forgets. Indeed, none of 
 the Ancrams ever forget. An almost royal memory 
 has always been a characteristic of 'our race.'' 
 With which magnificent speech Mrs. Errington 
 made an impressive exit from the back skop. 
 
 Old Max knew enougk to be aware that the 
 tenacity even of a royal memory had not always 
 been found equal to retaining such trifles as a debt 
 of twenty pounds. But so long as Algy remem- 
 bered his Rhoda, he was welcome to let the money 
 slip. Indeed, if Algy behaved properly to Rhoda, 
 there should be no question of repayment. Twenty
 
 276 A CEABMING FELLOW. 
 
 pounds^ or two liundred^ would be well bestowed 
 in securing Ehoda's liappiness, and making a lady 
 of ber. Nevertbeless, old Max kept tbe acknow- 
 ledgment of tbe debt safely locked up, and looked 
 at it now and tben, witb some inward satisfaction. 
 Algernon was coming back to revisit Wbitf ord in 
 tbe summer, and tben sometbing definite sbould be 
 settled. 
 
 Meanwbile, Maxfield took some pains to bave 
 Rboda treated witb more consideration tban bad 
 bitberto been bestowed on ber. He astonisbed 
 Betty Grimsbaw by sbarply reproving ber for 
 sending Rboda into tbe sbop on some errand. 
 **■ Eice ! " be exclaimed testily, in ansvf er to bis 
 sister-in-law's explanation. " If you want rice, 
 you must fetcb it for yourself. Tbe sbop is no 
 place for Eboda, and I will not bave ber come 
 tbere." Tben be began to display a quite unpre- 
 cedented liberality in providing Eboda's clotbes. 
 Tbe girl, wbosQ ideas about ber own dress were of 
 tbe bumblest, and wbo bad tbougbt a dove- 
 coloured merino gown as good a garment as sbe 
 was ever likely to possess, was told to buy berself 
 a silk gown. ■ A good 'un. Notbing flimsy and 
 poor,'' said old Max. "A good, sobd silk gown, 
 tbat will wear and last. And — you bad better ask 
 Mrs. Errington to go witb you to buy it. Sbe will 
 understand wbat is fitting better tban your aunt
 
 A CH ARMING FELLOW. 277 
 
 Betty. I wisli jou to liave proper and becoming 
 raiment, Rhoda. You are not a child now. And 
 you go amongst gentlefolks at Dr. Bodkin's house. 
 And I would not have you seem out of place there, 
 by reason of unsuitable attire.''"' 
 
 Ehoda was delighted to be allowed to gratify 
 her natural taste for colour and adornment ; and 
 she shortly afterwards appeared in so elegant a 
 dress, that Betty Grimshaw was moved to say to 
 her brother-in-law, "Why, Jonathan, TU declare 
 if our Rhoda don't look as genteel as 'ere a one 
 o' the young ladies I see ! Why you're making 
 quite a lady of her, Jonathan ! " 
 
 '' Me make a lady of her ? " growled old Max. 
 " It isn't me, nor you, nor yet a smart gown, as 
 can do that. But the Lord has done it. The 
 Lord has given Rhoda the natur' of a lady, if ever 
 I see a lady in my life ; and I mean her to be 
 treated like one. Rhoda's none o' your sort of 
 clay, Betty Grimshaw. She's fine porcelain, is 
 Rhoda. I suppose you've nothing to say against 
 the child's silk gown ? " 
 
 " Nay, not I, Jonathan ! She's welcome to 
 wear silk or satin either, if you like to pay for it- 
 And, indeed, I'm uncommon pleased to see a bit 
 of bright colour, and be let to put a flower in my 
 bonnet. I'm sure we've had enough of them 
 Methodist ways. Dismal and dull enough they
 
 278 A CHARMING FELLOW. 
 
 were, Jonathan. But you can't say as I ever 
 grumbled, or went agin' you. Anything for peace 
 and quietness' sake is my way. But I do like 
 cliurcli best, having been bred to it. And I always 
 did, in my heart, even when you and David Powell 
 would be preaching up the Wesley ans. I never 
 said anything, as you know, Jonathan. But I kept 
 my own way of thinking all the same. And I'm 
 only glad you've come round to it yourself, at last." 
 
 This was bitter to Jonathan Masfield. But 
 he had had once or twice to endure similar speeches 
 from his sister-in-law, since his defection from 
 Methodism. His autocratic power in his own 
 family was wielded as strictly as ever, but his as- 
 sumption of infallibility had been fatally damaged. 
 To get his own way was still within his power, but 
 it would be vain henceforward to expect those 
 around him to acknowledge — even with their lips 
 — that his way must of necessity be the best way. 
 
 At the beginning of April there came to Whit- 
 ford the announcement that Algernon had received 
 and accepted an- invitation to accompany the Seelys 
 abroad in the late summer; and that, therefore, 
 his visit to "dear old Whitford" was indefinitely 
 postponed. This announcement would have angered 
 and disquieted old Max beyond measure, had it not 
 been that Algernon took the precaution to write 
 him a letter, which arrived in Whitford by the
 
 A CEAEMING FELLOW. 279 
 
 same post as that wliicb. brought to Mrs. Errington 
 tlie news of liis projected journey to the Continent. 
 It -was a very neat letter. Some persons might 
 have called it a cunning letter. At any rate, it 
 soothed old Max's anxious suspicions, if it did not 
 absolutely destroy them. " I believe, my good 
 friend/' wrote Algernon, " that you will quite ap- 
 prove the step I am tahing, in accompanying Lord 
 and Lady Seely to Switzerland. They have no 
 son, and I think I may say that they have come to 
 look upon me almost as a child of the house. I 
 remember all the good advice you gave me before 
 I left Whitford. And when I was hesitating about 
 accepting my lord's invitation, I thought of what 
 you would have said, and made up my mind to 
 resist the strong temptation of coming back to 
 dear old Whitford this summer." Then in a post- 
 script he added: ^^As to that little private trans- 
 action between us, I must ask you kindly to have 
 patience with me yet awhile. I try to be careful, 
 but living here is expensive, and I am put to it to 
 pay my way. You will not mention the matter to 
 my mother, I know. And, perhaps, it would be 
 Avell to say nothing to her about this letter. May 
 I send my love to Rhoda ?" 
 
 In justification of this last sentence, it must be 
 said that Algernon was quite innocent of Lady 
 Seely's project regarding himself and Castalia ; and
 
 / 
 
 280 A CHABMING FELLOW. 
 
 that , tliere were times wlien lie tliouglit witli some 
 "warmtli of feeling of tlie summer days in Llanryd- 
 tlan, and told liimself tliat tliere was not one of 
 tiie girls wliom lie met in society who surpassed 
 Rhoda Maxfield in tlie delicate freshness of her 
 beauty, or equalled her in natural grace and sweet- 
 ness. 
 
 Algernon had really excellent taste. 
 
 END OP VOL. I. 
 
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