Clergy -- Fiction; Great Britain -- Fiction; Religious fiction
"My dear children!--my dear friends!" said Mr. Cartwright in a voice
that seemed to tremble with affectionate emotion, "think not of
me!--Remember the words 'Blessed are they which are persecuted for
righteousness' sake!' I turn not from the harsh rebuke of this young
lady, albeit I am not insensible to its injustice,--nor, indeed, blind
to its indecency. But blessed--oh! most blessed shall I hold this trial,
if it lead to the awakening holy thoughts in you!--My dear young lady,"
he continued, rising from his seat and approaching Rosalind with an
extended hand, "it may be as well, perhaps, that I withdraw myself at
this moment. Haply, reflection may soften your young heart.--But let us
part in peace, as Christians should do."
Rosalind did not take his offered hand. "In peace, sir," she
said,--"decidedly I desire you to depart in peace. I have no wish to
molest you in any way. But you must excuse my not accepting your
proffered hand. It is but an idle and unmeaning ceremony perhaps, as
things go; but the manner in which you now stretch forth your hand gives
a sort of importance to it which would make it a species of falsehood in
me to accept it. When it means any thing, it means cordial liking; and
this, sir, I do not feel for you."
So saying, Rosalind arose and left the room.
Fanny clasped her hands in a perfect agony, and raising her tearful eyes
to Heaven as if to deprecate its wrath upon the roof that covered so
great wickedness, exclaimed, "Oh, Mr. Cartwright! what can I say to
you!"
Mrs. Simpson showed symptoms of being likely to faint; and as Mr.
Cartwright and Fanny approached her, Miss Richards, with a vehemence of
feeling that seemed to set language at defiance, seized the hand of the
persecuted vicar and pressed it to her lips.
Several minutes were given to the interchange of emotions too strong to
be described in words. Female tears were blended with holy blessings;
and, as Jacob afterwards assured his sister, who had contrived
unobserved to escape, he at one time saw no fewer than eight human
hands, great and small, all mixed together in a sort of chance-medley
heap upon the chair round which they at length kneeled down.
It will be easily believed that Miss Torrington appeared no more that
night; and after an hour passed in conversation on the persecutions and
revilings to which the godly are exposed, Mrs. Simpson, who declared
herself dreadfully overcome, proposed to Miss Richards that they should
use such strength as was left them to walk home. A very tender leave was
taken of Fanny, in which Mr. Jacob zealously joined, and the party set
out for a star-lit walk to Wrexhill, its vicar supporting on each arm a
very nervous and trembling hand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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