"The hearing this, my dear young lady, gives me as pure and holy a pleasure as listening to the sacred strains could do:--unless, indeed," he added, bending his head sideways towards her, so as nearly to touch her cheek, "unless, indeed, they were breathed by the lips of Louisa herself. That must be very like hearing a seraph sing!"
Not a syllable of this was heard save by herself.
"I have thought incessantly," said Mrs. Simpson, in a very low voice, as soon as Mr. Cartwright's head had recovered the perpendicular,--"incessantly, I may truly say, on our last conversation. My life has been passed in a manner so widely different from what I am sure it will be in future, that I feel as if I were awakened to a new existence!"
"The great object of my hopes is, and will ever be," replied the Vicar of Wrexhill almost aloud, "to lead my beloved flock to sweet and safe pastures.--And for you," he added, in a voice so low, that she rather felt than heard his words, "what is there I would not do?" Here his eyes spoke a commentary; and hers, a note upon it.
"Which is the hymn, Mr. Cartwright, that you think best adapted to the semi-weekly Sabbath you recommended us to institute?" said Miss Richards.
"The eleventh, I think.--Yes, the eleventh;--study that, my dear child. Early and late let your sweet voice breathe those words,--and I will be with you in spirit, Louisa."
Not even Mrs. Simpson heard a word of this, beyond "dear child."
"But when shall I see you?--I have doubts and difficulties on some points, Mr. Cartwright," said the widow aloud. "How shamefully ignorant--I must call it _shamefully_ ignorant--did poor Mr. Wallace suffer us to remain!--Is it not true, Louisa? Did he ever, through all the years we have known him, utter an awakening word to any of us?"
"No, _indeed_ he never did," replied Miss Louisa, in a sort of penitent whine.
"I am rather surprised to hear you say that, Miss Richards," said Rosalind, drawing her chair a little towards them. "I always understood that Mr. Wallace was one of the most exemplary parish priests in England. Did not your father consider him to be so, Fanny?"
"I--I believe so,--I don't know," replied Fanny, stammering and colouring painfully.
"Not know, Fanny Mowbray!" exclaimed Rosalind;--"not know your father's opinion of Mr. Wallace! That is very singular indeed."