Mr Billing, a wholesome little man of forty, with smooth, red cheeks and twinkling little eyes, excellent both as a man and a Methodist, as his fathers had been before him, but falling short of them in not being excellent as a grocer as well, offered a tentative hand to the member of the body his host referred to with this measure of tact; and underwent increase of humility rather than the opposite process in goodwill, as the latter bent his head with entire remoteness of expression.
“Now, this is what I like to see!” exclaimed Mr Blackwood, who was untroubled by exaggerated keenness of perception. “I like to see people of different sects mingling together, and associating in a friendly way with one another. It is my belief that that is how it was intended to be. I confess that I am a thorough Wesleyan, born and bred, myself; but that does not prevent my being able to see, and be glad of what is good in other sects. What do you say, doctor?”
“Yes — yes, certainly,” said Dr Cassell, in a parenthetical tone, without raising his head.
“Yes, yes, that is the attitude,” said Mr Billing, with a quick and rather indistinct utterance, which gave an idea of hurrying that its want of culture might be missed; “that is the attitude we should strive to get at. I trust — I think we are given grounds for hoping — that the day will come when it is the universal attitude. I think — it is thought, you know — that we are to judge that from the prophets.”
“‘If a man hath all things else, and hath not charity, it profiteth him nothing,’” said Dr Cassell, with deliberate distinctness and a smile.
Mr Billing gave the doctor a glance of some esteem, and laughed, saying, “Yes, exactly.” Mr Blackwood, who was addicted to inattentiveness, made no response: and the Reverend Cleveland followed the latter example; an effort to attain an expression of utter disregard resulting in one of the same degree of disgust.
After a minute’s silence, during which Mr Billing fidgeted amiably, half turning to one and another as though desirous of talk but unprovided with a topic, the door opened to admit the ladies — Mrs Cassell, Mrs Blackwood, and Mrs Hutton; followed by Dolores and the three eldest children of Mr and Mrs Blackwood. Behind came Mrs Merton-Vane, the wife of the agent of the local nobleman — a comely, kindly, foolish matron, whose foremost quality was a persistence in appending her husband’s Christian name by a hyphen to his surname, and regarding his post as agent to a nobleman as establishing his own family as noble. She had chosen to sweep alone into the view of Mr Hutton, whose acceptance of dissenting hospitality was her reason for doing the same.
Mrs Blackwood turned her attention to the introductions to Mr Billing; reserving for him the chief of her cordiality; and looking annoyed by the air assumed towards him by her eldest daughter — a dainty, naughty maiden a little younger than Dolores; who turned away after a careless bow and began to chatter with a favourite’s audacity to the Reverend Cleveland. Herbert, a quiet-mannered youth of seventeen, shook hands, and stood aside talking to Dolores and Bertram. Lettice, a stolid — looking girl with a sweet expression, remained with her eyes fixed on his face, while her mother entered into talk.
“I did so enjoy your sermon on Sunday, Mr Billing, and so did my husband. I was so struck by parts of it, that I came straight home and made some notes of them. You know I sometimes speak myself on these subjects in my humble way; and I found your sermon was so very suggestive.”
“Indeed, indeed, was that so?” said Mr Billing, jumping slightly in his seat, as was his wont when he was nervous or grateful. “I–I am glad, Mrs Blackwood.”
“How ve-ry nice for you to hear Mr Bil-ling!” said Mrs Merton-Vane, who had a trick of pronouncing occasional words with a break in the middle, to the accompaniment of an inclination of her head. “How ve-ry nice!”
“Yes, indeed it was,” said Mrs Blackwood, in her high — pitched, somewhat strained tones. “We all enjoyed it so very much, did we not, Lettice?”
“Yes, indeed we did,” said Lettice. “And I am sure we shall enjoy many others from Mr Billing no less.”
“Well, well, I hope so — with the higher help,” said Mr Billing, dropping his voice at the last words, and making, we will suppose, some transition in their application.
“I was so much struck by the simile at the end of it,” continued Mrs Blackwood. “It is such a beautiful idea — that every good action leaves its light behind—‘a light that shall never be quenched.’ You know there is something of the same idea in Shakespeare; when Portia says that, just as the light shines from a window on the darkness of the night, ‘so shines a good deed in a wicked world.’ You know the passage, Mr Billing?”
“Yes, I believe I have come across it,” said Mr Billing—“that is, I do not think it strikes me as — as being new to me.”
“But I think we may accord Mr Billing the tribute of originality,” said Lettice, whom her family considered intellectual. “His idea and that of Shakespeare are quite different.”
“Yes — I do not think they are the same,” said Mr Billing, turning slightly red, and looking down.
“It is when Portia and her maid are returning from the trial of Antonio,” continued Mrs Blackwood; “and Portia sees the light of her own windows from the road. What a fine play it is, is it not, Mr Billing? I think it is quite one of Shakespeare’s finest.”
“Yes — indeed — do you?” said Mr Billing. “I am not a great reader of Shakespeare myself, I am afraid.”
“It — is — strange,” interposed Dr Cassell, “how extremely little is known of Shakespeare — as a man. I believe that almost the only authentic story about his youth is — that he was on one occasion taken up for poaching.”
“Others abide our question. Thou art free,” quoted the Reverend Cleveland in an undertone; as if, though not caring to join in the talk, he did not grudge it a subdued note of culture.
“That is such a sweet po-em, Mr Hutton,” said Mrs Merton-Vane. “I used to be so fond of poetry when I was a gi-rl. But that is a long while ago now.”
“Well, my darling” said Mr Blackwood to his wife, “suppose we go in to supper, and postpone any further talk till our guests have had some refreshment.”
“Or are having some,” put in Dr Cassell, with a smile.
“Yes, let us, mother,” said Elsa, who enjoyed saying things to draw attention. “You can sit by Mr Billing, and indulge in physical and spiritual sustenance at the same time.”
“What, de-ar?” said Mrs Merton-Vane, with amiable perplexity.
Mrs Blackwood gave her daughter a glance of disapproval, as she led the way into the dining-room. Elsa had been indulged in childhood by parents exulting in her looks and her spirit; but of late had evinced some unfilial independence, and partiality for worldly things; in contrast to Lettice, who had already been converted, and had even given. an account of this process in herself as testimony at a meeting.
“Well, now, Mr Billing” said Mr Blackwood, in one of his pauses in carving; which tended to occur rather frequently; his attention not being easily detained by unevangelistic duties; “I hope that you are of the same mind as my wife and myself upon the Drink question. You will never find wine or spirits upon our table. I hope that you and I are agreed on that subject, at any rate.”