Hastily Dido turned her wandering attention in its proper direction – and began to listen to the sermon. What was Mr Hewit saying which could produce such widely differing effects in his audience?
‘…Charity, my dear friends! St Paul teaches us that it is the greatest of all virtues. “Charity suffereth long and is kind,” he tells us. Charity “thinketh no evil”. It “rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth”. When we have charity in our hearts, my friends, we do not bear grudges, or resentments, we are able – we are willing – to forget the past mistakes and transgressions of others. We are willing to forgive what is past…’
He spoke gently and feelingly; but there was a great deal of power in his accents – and in the expression of his lined and careworn face. And, Dido noticed that, as he spoke, he was looking very directly at Mrs Midgely.
‘That was a very moving sermon, Mr Hewit,’ said Dido, pausing in the shady porch as she and Flora left the church.
Mr Hewit’s sombre face broke immediately into a very kindly smile. ‘Dear Lady! You are extremely generous to say so.’ He bowed and lowered his voice. ‘And may I say that your approval of my little discourse does you credit. In my experience it is the charitable who take most pleasure in hearing charity commended.’
‘Thank you.’
The broad smile had somewhat eased the deep lines of the clergyman’s face; but the sadness lingered in his eyes – and there was something too in the stoop of his slight shoulders, his haggard face and, most particularly, in his rather shabby clothes and his unfashionably powdered hair, which was not like any other popular visiting preacher that Dido had ever met. He was now looking rather despondingly at the departing crowd. ‘I do not think,’ he continued, raising a thick white eyebrow in half-comical regret, ‘that my discourse gave universal satisfaction.’
Dido found that the man was rather winning upon her. She smiled and stepped closer to him. ‘I fear there may have been a little disappointment,’ she whispered playfully.
‘Disappointment?’
‘Yes,’ she confided, ‘I believe you were expected to preach against the French.’
‘Indeed?’ He looked very thoughtful. ‘But, my dear lady, why do you suppose that there should be disappointment? Did I not preach most eloquently against the French?’
‘I beg your pardon? I do not quite understand you.’
‘Was not every word which I spoke in praise of charity a rebuke to our neighbours across the channel? Are not a want of charity and compassion at the root of every violent scene lately enacted among them? Is it not the absence of charity which has turned the high ideals of their revolution into tyranny and outrage?’
‘Oh!’ said Dido, startled into seriousness. ‘Yes…’ She was quite struck by his words, and she could not help but wonder whether they might not have some bearing upon Richmond as well as France – and whether the lack of charity among her neighbours might not also end in a scene of violence…
She shivered – the old stone porch suddenly felt remarkably damp and cold. And she was on the point of making him a more thoughtful reply, when his attention was drawn away.
‘Ah!’ he cried, ‘Mrs Midgely, Miss Prentice! It is such a very great pleasure to meet with old friends!’
Dido turned just in time to see Mrs Midgely walking past with scarcely a nod, while Miss Prentice stopped and held out her hand smilingly. ‘Such a beautiful sermon, Mr Hewit. It was so very…’
‘Thank you! Thank you, dear lady!’ He took her hand, folded it in both his own and seemed to study her face.
Dido watched with great interest.
But Flora suddenly seized her arm. ‘Pray excuse us, Mr Hewit,’ she cried. ‘We must hurry away, you know.’ And without more ado she pulled her cousin out of the cool porch into the sudden heat and glare of the churchyard.
‘But I wished most particularly to hear what they said,’ protested Dido as they came to a halt beside a gravestone, just a few yards from the porch.
‘And they,’ whispered Flora with a giggle, ‘most certainly did not wish you to hear.’
‘What do you mean?’ Dido looked back through the ivy-hung doorway into the shadows where it was just possible to see the stooping clergyman leaning close to the neat little figure of Miss Prentice. Her eyes were cast down. He was still holding her hand as if he had forgotten to release it.
‘Why, is it not obvious?’ said Flora. ‘I am sure it is plain for all the world to see! They are in love!’
‘In love?’ cried Dido. ‘How can you know? You have never seen them together before.’
‘Oh, but they are! Or at least they were when they were young. And now they have met again and they find they have not forgotten… Only look at how he is talking to her – and how she listens to him. Yes, they are in love for sure! I am never wrong about these things.’
‘I do not know…’ said Dido doubtingly. Miss Prentice was withdrawing her hand now, turning away. She walked out into the sunshine, her face pale and distressed. ‘I do not know at all. That does not seem so very much like love. She seems in quite a hurry to get away from Mr Hewit.’
Flora laughed, linked her arm through Dido’s and drew her away along the worn flagged path that led through roughly mown grass to the lych-gate. ‘Oh!’ she cried, ‘but it is very like love. You see, I have noticed that some women are not at all comfortable about being in love.’ She shook her curls and flashed a very meaning, sidelong glance at her companion. ‘And I have observed,’ she continued, ‘that such women will go to quite extraordinary lengths to conceal their attachments – even from their most intimate friends. Why, I do not mean to shock you, but I believe that sometimes they will even try to hide their love from their cousins!’
Chapter Fourteen
…I am not at all sure whether to believe Flora – I mean as to Mr Hewit and Miss Prentice being in love. I do not at all share her belief that she is always right in these matters, though she can sometimes be quick-sighted enough… That is to say, I have known her guess correctly in another case…
And there did, I suppose, seem to be some evidences of affection – they were certainly very glad to meet. And he held her hand a great while longer than was necessary. And I think perhaps they were acquainted with one another when they were young, back in Northamptonshire… Maybe it is possible…
But if there is a real attachment, Eliza, why were they not married long ago? Flora, I should say, believes that they were parted by a lack or fortune on his side and a fiercely disapproving Papa on hers. She has made up quite an affecting little story about it.
But, whether or not there was ever a disapproving Papa, there is undoubtedly now a disapproving friend! For Mrs Midgely certainly does not like Mr Hewit. Dear me! I begin to think that that woman does not like anyone!
And I keep remembering Mrs M’s visit to Knaresborough House – and how Miss Prentice fainted when she heard of it. I wonder whether Mr Hewit might have played some part in that little mystery. In short I wonder whether…
But I had better not go on, or I fear I shall be in danger of telling a tale as rich in fancy and as poor in fact as Flora’s. I shall instead wait and watch a little more – and hope that my book is soon delivered from the bookseller. And I think I shall also try to discover exactly where in the north-country Mr Hewit’s new parish may be situated…