Clergy -- Fiction; Great Britain -- Fiction; Religious fiction
"A whip for the horse, a bridle for the ass, and a rod for the fool's
back," said Jacob in a sanctified tone.
"Upon my honour, Jacob, I shall be very angry with you if you do not set
about this love-making as I would have you. Don't make ducks and drakes
of eighty thousand pounds:--at least, not till you have got them."
"Answer not a fool according to his folly, least he be wise in his own
conceit," said Jacob.
Mr. Cartwright smiled, as it seemed against his will, but shook his head
very solemnly. "I'll tell you what, Jacob," said he,--"if I see you set
about this in a way to please me, I'll give you five shillings to-morrow
morning."
"Wherefore is there a price in the hand of a fool to get wisdom, seeing
he hath no heart to it?" replied Jacob. "Nevertheless, father, I will
look lovingly upon the maiden, and receive thy promised gift, even as
thou sayest."
"Upon my word, Jacob, you try my patience too severely," said the
vicar; yet there was certainly but little wrath in his eye as he said
so, and his chartered libertine of a son was preparing again to answer
him in the words of Solomon, but in a spirit of very indecent
buffoonery, when the drawing-room door opened, and Mrs. Simpson, Miss
Richards, and Fanny Mowbray entered.
It appeared that Rosalind and Miss Cartwright on escaping from the
drawing-room had not sought the other ladies, but taken refuge in the
dining-parlour, from whence they issued immediately after the others had
passed the door, and entering the drawing-room with them, enjoyed the
gratification of witnessing the meeting of the vicar and his fair
parishioners.
To the surprise of Rosalind, and the great though silent amusement of
her companion, they perceived that both the stranger ladies had
contrived to make a very edifying and remarkable alteration in the
general appearance of their dress.
Miss Richards had combed her abounding black curls as nearly straight as
their nature would allow, and finally brought them into very reverential
order by the aid of her ears, and sundry black pins to boot,--an
arrangement by no means unfavourable to the display of her dark eyes and
eyebrows.
But the change produced by the _castigato_ toilet of the widow was
considerably more important. A transparent blond _chemisette_, rather
calculated to adorn than conceal that part of the person to which it
belonged, was now completely hidden by a lavender-coloured silk
handkerchief, tightly, smoothly, and with careful security pinned
behind, and before, and above, and below, upon her full but graceful
bust.
Rosalind had more than once of late amused herself by looking over the
pages of Molière's "Tartuffe;" and a passage now occurred to her that
she could not resist muttering in the ear of Henrietta:--
"Ah, mon Dieu! je vous prie,
Avant que de parler, prenez-moi ce mouchoir"--&c.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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