England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Families -- Fiction
But though they did this only as a matter of duty, they would all have
been extremely astonished, not to say offended, had they known that he
said “What a bore!” on receiving the invitation. He was at that moment
very much occupied about all the new things that he was setting up,
altogether indifferent to the consideration that the next curate might
not be of his way of thinking and might feel it a burden. Mr. Asquith,
however, never spoke of the possibility of a change, but seemed to
think that there never would be any other curate. He looked as though he
meant to go on forever bringing all his schemes to perfection. The
Rector could only afford to give him £100 a year and the use of the
cottage in which the curates always lived, with the very barest
furniture--merely what was necessary. But Mr. Asquith did not seem to
think either of the small stipend or the bare lodgings; he seemed only
to think of the work which he made so unnecessarily hard for himself.
And presently he was so absorbed in this work, and found so many things
to do, and set so many things going which nobody but himself took any
interest in, that he fell almost out of the knowledge of the more
important persons in the parish. They went their way, which was the
old-established, correct way for gentlefolks in a country parish to go,
in which they had gone long before he appeared, and would most likely go
long after he had disappeared; and he went his, which was novel and
new-fangled, and on the whole not a way approved of by the best people.
And though the parish was quite small, and you would have supposed that
all the educated persons belonging to the upper classes in it must have
jostled each other every day, the fact was that they went on in parallel
lines, as it were, without ever seeing each other.
He went to the Rectory now and then, of course, as in duty bound, but
otherwise, when he was seen passing any of the chief houses in the
place, and a chance visitor asked who he was, “Oh, it is only the
curate,” was always the answer in Horton. This was really almost all
that any one knew of him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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