Clergy -- England -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
But presently he was back, and Kate found it impossible to resist the
charm. He ladled the soup and dispensed the mutton-chops with a gaiety
and boyish glee which were really the stored-up effervescence of weeks,
the ebullition of the long-repressed delight which he took in his
promotion. He learned casually that the girls had been in London for
more than a month staying with Jack’s mother in Bayswater, and that
they were very sorry to be upon their road home.
“And yet,” he said—this was toward the end of dinner—“I have been told
that your town is a very picturesque one. But I fancy that we never
appreciate our home as we do a place strange to us.”
“Very likely that is so,” Kate answered quietly. And then a little
pause ensued, such as he had observed several times before, and come to
connect with any mention of Claversham. The girls’ tongues would run on
frankly and pleasantly enough about their London visit, or Mr.
Gladstone; but let him bring the talk round to his parish and its
people, and forthwith something of reserve seemed to come between him
and them until the conversation strayed afield again.
After the others had finished, he still toyed with his meal, partly in
lazy enjoyment of the time, partly as an excuse for staying with them.
They were sitting in a momentary silence, when a boy passed the window
chanting a ditty at the top of his voice. The doggrel came clearly to
their ears——
Here we sit like birds in the wilderness,
Birds in the wilderness, birds in the wilderness;
Here we sit like birds in the wilderness,
Samuel asking for more.
As the sound passed on the young man looked up, a mischievous twinkle
in his eyes, and met their eyes, and all three burst into a merry peal
of laughter. They were the birds in the wilderness, sitting there in
the circle of light, in the strange room in the strange town, almost as
intimate as if they had known one another for years, or had been a week
at sea together.
But Kate, having acknowledged by that pleasant outburst her sense of
the oddity of the position, rose from the table, and the rector had to
say good-night, explaining at the same time that he should not travel
with them next morning, but intended to go on by a later train, as his
friend wished to see more of him. Nevertheless, he said he should be up
to breakfast with them and should see them off. And in this resolution
he persisted, notwithstanding Kate’s protest, which perhaps was not
very violent.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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