Sunday came--a peaceful summer Sabbath--a day of sunshine and azure sky,
and Ida, whose anxiety about Vernon had kept her away from her parish
church for the last three Sundays, was able to set out upon her walk to
the village with a heart quite at rest on the boy's account. Even the
mother could find no excuse for staying at home with her boy, and felt
that conscience and society alike required that she should assist at the
service of her parish church. Vernie was convalescent, able to sit up in
his bed, propped with pillows, and eat hot-house grapes, and turn over
the leaves of endless volumes of _Punch_, laughing with his hearty
childish laugh at Leech's jokes and the curious garments of a departed
era.
'How could men wear such trousers? and how could women wear such
bonnets?' he asked his mother, wonderingly contemplating fashionable
youth as represented by the great pen-and-ink humourist.
'I don't know why we shouldn't wear them, Vernie,' said his mother, with
rather an offended air; 'those spoon bonnets were very becoming. I wore
one the day your pa first saw me.'
'And hoops under your gown like that?' said Vernie, pointing; 'and those
funny little boots? What a guy you must have looked!'
When a boy has come to this pass he may fairly be left with servants for
a couple of hours; so Lady Palliser put on her stateliest mourning--her
thick corded silk, flounced with crape and her Mary Stuart bonnet, and
went across the park, and up hill and down hill, for it was a country of
hills and hollows--to the parish church of Wimperfield, a very ancient
edifice, with massive columnar piers, Norman groined roof, and walls
enriched by a grand array of memorial tablets, setting forth the honours
and virtues of those dead and gone landowners whose bones were mouldering
in the vaults below the square oaken pews in which the living worshipped.
In the chancel there was the usual stately monument to some magnate of
the middle ages, who was represented kneeling by his wife's side, with a
graduated row of sons and daughters kneeling behind them, as if the whole
family had died and petrified simultaneously, in the act of pious
worship.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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