A minute or two after a voice was heard round the corner of the building,mumbling,Ah,I used to be strong enough,but tis altered now!Well,there,Im as independent as one here and there,even if they do write squire after their names.
Whats the matter?said the vicar,as William Worm appeared;when the remarks were repeated to him.
Worm says some very true things sometimes,Mr.Swancourt said,turning to Stephen.Now,as regards that word "esquire."Why,Mr.Smith,that word "esquire"is gone to the dogs,--used on the letters of every jackanapes who has a black coat.Anything else,Worm?
Ay,the folk have begun frying again!
Dear me!Im sorry to hear that.
Yes,Worm said groaningly to Stephen,Ive got such a noise in my head that theres no living night nor day.Tis just for all the world like people frying fish:fry,fry,fry,all day long in my poor head,till I dont know wher Im here or yonder.There,God Amighty will find it out sooner or later,I hope,and relieve me.
Now,my deafness,said Mr.Swancourt impressively,is a dead silence;but William Worms is that of people frying fish in his head.Very remarkable,isnt it?
I can hear the frying-pan a-fizzing as naterel as life,said Worm corroboratively.
Yes,it is remarkable,said Mr.Smith.
Very peculiar,very peculiar,echoed the vicar;and they all then followed the path up the hill,bounded on each side by a little stone wall,from which gleamed fragments of quartz and blood-red marbles,apparently of inestimable value,in their setting of brown alluvium.Stephen walked with the dignity of a man close to the horses head,Worm stumbled along a stones throw in the rear,and Elfride was nowhere in particular,yet everywhere;sometimes in front,sometimes behind,sometimes at the sides,hovering about the procession like a butterfly;not definitely engaged in travelling,yet somehow chiming in at points with the general progress.
The vicar explained things as he went on:The fact is,Mr.Smith,I didnt want this bother of church restoration at all,but it was necessary to do something in self-defence,on account of those d----dissenters:I use the word in its ural meaning,of course,not as an expletive.
How very odd!said Stephen,with the concern demanded of serious friendliness.
Odd?Thats nothing to how it is in the parish of Twinkley.Both the churchwardens are----;there,I wont say what they are;and the clerk and the ***ton as well.
How very strange!said Stephen.
Strange?My dear sir,thats nothing to how it is in the parish of Sinnerton.However,as to our own parish,I hope we shall make some progress soon.
You must trust to circumstances.
There are no circumstances to trust to.We may as well trust in Providence if we trust at all.But here we are.A wild place,isnt it?But I like it on such days as these.
The churchyard was entered on this side by a stone stile,over which having clambered,you remained still on the wild hill,the within not being so divided from the without as to obliterate the sense of open *******.A delightful place to be buried in,postulating that delight can accompany a man to his tomb under any circumstances.There was nothing horrible in this churchyard,in the shape of tight mounds bonded with sticks,which shout imprisonment in the ears rather than whisper rest;or trim garden-flowers,which only raise images of people in new black crape and white handkerchiefs coming to tend them;or wheel-marks,which remind us of hearses and mourning coaches;or cypress-bushes,which make a parade of sorrow;or coffin-boards and bones lying behind trees,showing that we are only leaseholders of our graves.
No;nothing but long,wild,untutored grass,diversifying the forms of the mounds it covered,--themselves irregularly shaped,with no eye to effect;the impressive presence of the old mountain that all this was a part of being nowhere excluded by disguising art.Outside were similar slopes and similar grass;and then the serene impassive sea,visible to a width of half the horizon,and meeting the eye with the effect of a vast concave,like the interior of a blue vessel.Detached rocks stood upright afar,a collar of foam girding their bases,and repeating in its whiteness the plumage of a countless multitude of gulls that restlessly hovered about.
Now,Worm!said Mr.Swancourt sharply;and Worm started into an attitude of attention at once to receive orders.Stephen and himself were then left in possession,and the work went on till early in the afternoon,when dinner was announced by Unity of the vicarage kitchen running up the hill without a bonnet.
Elfride did not make her appearance inside the building till late in the afternoon,and came then by special invitation from Stephen during dinner.She looked so intensely LIVING and full of movement as she came into the old silent place,that young Smiths world began to be lit by the purple lightin all its definiteness.Worm was got rid of by sending him to measure the height of the tower.
What could she do but come close--so close that a minute arc of her skirt touched his foot--and asked him how he was getting on with his sketches,and set herself to learn the principles of practical mensuration as applied to irregular buildings?Then she must ascend the pulpit to re-imagine for the hundredth time how it would seem to be a preacher.
Presently she leant over the front of the pulpit.
Dont you tell papa,will you,Mr.Smith,if I tell you something?she said with a sudden impulse to make a confidence.
Oh no,that I wont,said he,staring up.
Well,I write papas sermons for him very often,and he preaches them better than he does his own;and then afterwards he talks to people and to me about what he said in his sermon to-day,and forgets that I wrote it for him.Isnt it absurd?
How clever you must be!said Stephen.I couldnt write a sermon for the world.
