Clergy -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"If you don't care about it, I need not say anything," said the
Rector's wife, who could not help feeling affronted. "But I am so
sorry that Mr Morgan and you don't get on," she continued, after a
little pause. "I have no right to speak; but I take an interest in
everything that belongs to the parish. If you would put a little
confidence in my husband, things might go on better; but, in the mean
time, I thought I might say to you, on my own account, that I had
heard this scandal, and that I don't believe in it. If you do not
understand my motive I can't help it," said the Rector's wife, who was
now equally ready for friendship or for battle.
"Thanks; I understand what you mean," said Mr Wentworth, who had come
to himself. "But will you tell me what it is you don't believe in?" he
asked, with a smile which Mrs Morgan did not quite comprehend.
"I will tell you," she said, with a little quiet exasperation. "I
don't think you would risk your prospects, and get yourself into
trouble, and damage your entire life, for the sake of any girl,
however pretty she might be. Men don't do such things for women
nowadays, even when it is a worthy object," said the disappointed
optimist. "And I believe you are a great deal more sensible, Mr
Wentworth." There was just that tone of mingled approval and contempt
in this speech which a woman knows how to deliver herself of without
any appearance of feeling; and which no young man, however _blase_,
can hear with composure.
"Perhaps not," he said, with a little heat and a rising colour. "I am
glad you think me so sensible." And then there ensued a pause, upon
the issue of which depended the question of peace or war between these
two. Mr Wentworth's good angel, perhaps, dropped softly through the
dusky air at that moment, and jogged his perverse charge with the tip
of a celestial wing. "And yet there might be women in the world for
whom--" said the Curate; and stopped again. "I daresay you are not
anxious to know my sentiments on the subject," he continued, with a
little laugh. "I am sorry you think so badly--I mean so well of me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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