No; she tried to do her best for the sufferer as well as she was able; and would not be contented until she was absolutely satisfied that matters had somewhat mended.
Young and old, rich and poor, alike considered her as one of their best friends--as indeed she was--a good Samaritan to whom they might always confide their griefs and ailments, their sufferings and privations, with the a.s.surance that they would certainly meet with a kindly sympathy and a word of comfort, in addition to as much practical a.s.sistance in their adversity and physical consolation in their need as "little" Miss Pimpernell--that was the fond t.i.tle she was always known by--could compa.s.s or give.
The worst of it was, that she was in such general request, that we had to make up our minds to lose her sometimes.
Of course it was a selfish consideration, but we missed her and grumbled at her visits and absences sadly; for, when she was away, everything appeared to go wrong in the parish. Still none, knowing the gratification that her ministrations gave her, would have grudged her their indulgence.
She was never so happy as when she was helping somebody; and, of course, people took advantage of her weakness, and were merciless in their calls upon her time.
Whenever the most distant cousin or stray relative happened to be ill-- or about to move into a new house, or be married, or increase the population in defiance of Malthus, or depart from the pomps and vanities of this wicked world--as sure as possible would Miss Pimpernell be sent for post haste. She had, as a matter of course, to nurse the patient, a.s.sist the flitting, accelerate the wedding, welcome the little stranger, or console the mourners as the case might be.
We, the inhabitants of the suburb which she blessed with her presence, thought all this a gross infringement of our rights in her possession, although we welcomed the dear old lady all the more gladly when we got her back again amongst us once more.
As for confidences, I believe she had the skeleton secret of every soul in the place confided to her sacred keeping at some one time or other; and love stories! why, she must have been cram full of them--from the heart-breaking affair of poor little Polly Skittles, the laundress"
pretty daughter, up to Baby Blake"s last flirtation.
What her brother would have done without her, it would be impossible to tell. She had quite as much to do with the parish as he; and, I"m sure, if little Miss Pimpernell had not kept house for him and minded all his temporal affairs, he would never have known what to eat or drink, or what to put on.
The vicar had lost his wife soon after his marriage, when he was quite a young man; but, instead of being bowed down by his affliction, as might have been the case with a good many ardent natures like his, he earnestly fought against it, buckling to his work, all the more vigorously perhaps, as one of Christ"s ministers.
Everybody thenceforth was wife and child, brother and sister to him: humanity in general took the place of all family ties.
He was the purest Christian character I have ever come across, lovable, intelligent, winning and merry, too, at times, in spite of his grief-- would that all ministers were like him to uphold the old love and honour of our national Church!
No orator or skilled preacher in the pulpit, he simply led you captive by his earnestness and evident thorough belief in all that he uttered; so that "those who came to scoff, remained to pray." No hard, metallic repet.i.tion by rote was his; but the plain, unvarnished story of the gospel which he felt and of whose truth he was a.s.sured, animated by a broad spirit of Protestantism that led him to extend a raising hand to every erring brother, and see religion in other creeds besides his own.
"In his duty prompt at every call, He watch"d and wept, he pray"d and felt for all; And, as a bird each fond endearment tries, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and _led the way_!"
He and his good sister were, in fact, a pair of heart-oddities, whom to know was to admire with reverential affection. They could not have had an enemy or slanderer in the world. Even Miss Spight had never a word to say against either; that alone spoke volumes for them.
"Oh, Frank," exclaimed little Miss Pimpernell as I entered the school- room--she always called me by my Christian name, or styled me her "boy,"
having known me from childhood--"Oh, Frank! Here you are at last! I am so glad to see you back again, my boy: you have just come in time to help us. I was really afraid those nasty Frenchmen had eaten you up, you have been such a long time away!"
"I dare say there"s enough left of him," sneered Mr Mawley the curate.
_He_ was the direct opposite of the vicar; and a man whom I cordially detested, the feeling, I believe, being mutual. He was consequential, dogmatic, and with all the self-a.s.serting priggishness of young Oxford fresh upon him. I confess I was pretty much inclined the same way myself; so, it was but natural that we should disagree: two suns, you know, cannot shine in the same hemisphere.
Before I could answer him, Miss Pimpernell hastily interposed. She hated to hear us arguing and bickering as was generally our way when we met. "Please bring the measuring tape, Frank," she said, "you will find it on that bench in the corner; and come and see how long my wreath is.
It should be just nineteen feet, but I"m afraid I am a yard short."
By the time I had done as my old friend requested, the conversation which I had interrupted by my advent resumed its course. They were talking about the future world, and ventilating sundry curious thoughts on the subject.
"And what do _you_ think heaven will be like?" asked Seraphine Dasher, appealing to me. "Everybody"s opinion has been given but yours and Miss Pimpernell"s, and Mr Mawley"s; and I"m coming to them presently."
"I"m sure I can"t say," I answered, "perhaps a combination of choral music, running water, I mean the sound of brooks gliding and fountains splashing, with almond toffee at discretion: that"s my idea of earthly felicity at least."
"Oh, fie!" said my interlocutor; while I could hear Miss Spight murmur "What deplorable levity," as she glowered at me severely and looked sympathisingly at Mr Mawley.
"Well," said I, "I was only joking then; for, really, I"ve never seriously thought about the matter. As far as I can believe, however, I do not imagine heaven is going to be a place where we"ll be singing hymns all day. I think we shall be happy there, each in our several ways, as we are on earth, and be in the company of those we love: heaven would be miserable without that, I think."
"And what do you say, Miss Pimpernell?" next asked Seraphine.
"I do not say anything at all, my dear: the subject is beyond me. I leave it to One who is wiser than us all to tell me in his own good time."
"And you, Mr Mawley?" continued our fair questioner.
"We should not seek to understand the mysteries of the oracles of G.o.d,"
said the curate pompously.
"My dear, I can tell you," said the vicar, who had slipped in quietly, unknown to us all, ""Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which G.o.d hath prepared for them that love him!""
"I wonder, sir," said I, "whether that text, "In My Father"s house are many mansions," means that there are different degrees of happiness in the future world?"
"That pa.s.sage," said the vicar, "is one whose interpretation has been more disputed than any I know. Some say it has the meaning which you attach to it; while others, with whom I am more inclined to agree, think that it conveys only the promise and a.s.surance that in heaven there will be found room for us all. You must remember that we in the present day have the Bible through the medium of translation; and all translations are liable to error. Why, if you read the Book of Job, for instance, in the original Hebrew, without the arbitrary division into verses which the translators of the authorised version inserted, you would find it a perfect poem!"
"For my part," said Mr Mawley, "I do not think we ought to speak about religious matters in this sort of way, and make them subjects for general conversation."
"I don"t agree with you, Mawley," said the vicar, "the truth is not so brittle that we should be afraid of handling it; if religion were more openly discussed and brought into our daily life, I believe we should be all the better for it."
"Ah, you are Broad Church!" said the curate.
"Very well, be it so," said the vicar good-humouredly; "I"m not ashamed of it, so long as you allow that I"m at least a Christian."
"What _is_ Broad Church, Mr Mawley?" asked Bessie Dasher, who was suspected of having tender feelings towards the curate, for she generally deferred to his views and opinions.
"Broad Church," said Mr Mawley, "holds that every man is at liberty to judge for himself; and that any Sectarian or Unitarian, or heathen, has as much chance of heaven as you or I."
"Positively shocking!" said Miss Spight, in virtuous indignation at any nonconformist being esteemed as worthy of future salvation as herself.
"Oliver Wendell Holmes," I said, "gives a truer exposition. He says that "the narrow church may be seen in the ship"s boats of humanity, in the long boat, in the jolly boat, in the captain"s gig, lying off the poor old vessel, thanking G.o.d that _they_ are safe, and reckoning how soon the hulk containing the ma.s.s of their fellow-creatures will go down. The Broad Church is on board, working hard at the pumps, and very slow to believe that the ship will be swallowed up with so many poor people in it, fastened down under the hatches ever since it floated!""
"Ah, that is better," said the vicar. "It is there put very aptly. If we could only be less bigoted, and a.s.similate our various sects together, what a happy church would ours be! We all have the same sure fundamental ground of belief, and only differ in details."
"But, my dear sir," said the curate, in pious horror, "that is rank lat.i.tudinarianism!"
"Lat.i.tudinarianism or not, Mawley," said the vicar, "it is the Christianity and doctrine that earnest thinkers like Kingsley and Maurice preach and practise. If we could only all act up to it--all act up to it!"
"Then, I suppose," said Mr Mawley, "that you agree with the writers of _Essays and Reviews_?"
"Suppose nothing, my dear Mawley," said the vicar, kindly but seriously, "except what you have facts to vouch for. I do not say I agree with them or not."
"And do you think the hare chewed the cud, as Colenso says?" asked Baby Blake, with such a serious face that we could not help laughing at her.
"Proximus ille deo est qui scit ratione tacere!" said the vicar, putting on his hat and moving towards the door.
"And what does that mean, brother?" asked Miss Pimpernell.
"My dear, it is only Dionysius Cato"s original Latin for our old English proverb, "A silent tongue shows a wise head!"" said the vicar; and he then went out to attend to his parish duties, promising to look in upon us again, and see how we were getting on before we separated for the day.
On his departure, our conversation veered round to local chit-chat.