The substitution of this ejaculation for the noun which usually
concludes the proverb is due to the fact of the couple he is interested
in having come back into sight, retracing their steps, and again
approaching. It is clear as they come near that the desire to explore
the villa grounds has given way, in this case, to the absorption of
conversation. With a pang of dread, Jim's sharpened faculties realize,
before they are within earshot, that they have exchanged the light and
_banal_ civilities which had at first employed them for talk of a much
more intimate and interesting character. Cecilia is generally but an
indifferent listener, greatly preferring to take the lion's share in any
dialogue; but now she is all silent attention, only putting in, now and
again, a short eager question, while her companion is obviously
narrating--narrating gravely, and yet with a marked relish. Narrating
what? Jim tells himself angrily that there are more stories than one in
the world; that there is no reason why, because Cecilia's clerical
friend is relating to her something, it must necessarily be that
particular something which he dreads so inexpressibly; but he strains
his ears as they pass to catch a sentence which may relieve or confirm
his apprehensions. He has not to strain them long. It is Cecilia who is
speaking, and in her eagerness she has raised her voice.
"You may depend upon me; I assure you I am as safe as a church; if I had
chosen I might have made a great deal of mischief in my day, but I never
did. I always said that she had a history. I do not pretend to be a
physiognomist, but I said so the first time I saw her. I knew that they
came from Devonshire. I assure you I am as safe as a church!"
It is clear that the clergyman's hesitation, already perhaps more coy
than real, is unable to withstand the earnestness of Cecilia's
asseverations of her own trustworthiness. He has already opened his
mouth to respond when an unexpected interruption arrests the stream of
his eloquence. Jim has sprung from his bench, and thrust himself
unceremoniously between the two interlocutors.
"Come and see the wistaria," he says, brusquely addressing the girl;
"you were not with us when we were looking at it, were you? You were
maintaining the other day that wistaria has no scent; come and smell
it!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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