More Bywords

C.  How strange!  I never knew that he was an author.

Prof. D.  Ah! you are a young thing, and these are abstruse subjects.

C.  Oh! the Fathers and Ritual, I suppose?

Prof. D.  No doubt he is a great authority there, as a man of his ability must be; but I was thinking of a course of scientific papers he put forth ten years ago, taking up the arguments against materialism as no one could do who is not as thoroughly at home as he is in the latest discoveries and hypotheses.  He ought to answer that paper in the Critical World.

C.  I was so much interested in that paper.

Prof. D.  It has just the speciousness that runs away with young people.  I should like to talk it over with him.  Do you think I should be in the way if I ran down?

C.  I should think a visit from you would be an immense pleasure to him; and I am sure it would be good for the place to be stirred up.

Prof. D.  You have not learnt to prize that atmosphere in which things always seem to assume their true proportion, and to prompt the cry of St. Bernard’s brother—‘All earth for me, all heaven for you.’

C.  That was surely an outcome of the time when people used to sacrifice certainties to uncertainties, and spoil life for the sake of they knew not what.

Prof. D.  For eye hath not seen, nor ear heard.

Stranger.  Mr. Dunlop!  This is an unexpected pleasure!

C. (alone).  Well, wonders will never cease.  The great Professor Dunlop talking to me quite preachy and goody; and of all people in the world, the old man at Darkglade turning out to be a great physiologist!

VII. TWO OLD FRIENDS

SCENE.—Darkglade Vicarage study.  Mr. Aveland and Professor Dunlop.

Prof. D.  Thank you, sir.  It has been a great pleasure to talk over these matters with you; I hope a great benefit.

Mr. A.  I am sure it is a great benefit to us to have a breath from the outer world.  I hope you will never let so long a time go by without our meeting.  Remember, as iron sharpeneth iron, so doth a man’s countenance that of his friend.

Prof. D.  I shall be only too thankful.  I rejoice in the having met your grand-daughter, who encouraged me to offer myself.  Is she permanently in town?

Mr. A.  She shows no inclination to return.  I hoped she would do so after the last competition; but there is always another stage to be mounted.  I wish she would come back, for her mother ought not to be left single-handed; but young people seem to require so much external education in these days, instead of being content to work on at home, that I sometimes question which is more effectual, learning or being taught.

Prof. D.  Being poured-upon versus imbibing?

Mr. A.  It may depend on what amount there is to imbibe; and I imagine that the child views this region as an arid waste; as of course we are considerably out of date.

Prof. D.  The supply would be a good deal fresher and purer!

Mr. A.  Do you know anything of her present surroundings?

Prof. D.  I confess that I was surprised to meet her with Mrs. Eyeless, a lady who is active in disseminating Positivism, and all tending that way.  She rather startled me by some of her remarks; but probably it was only jargon and desire to show off.  Have you seen her lately?

Mr. A.  At Christmas, but only for a short time, when it struck me that she treated us with the patronage of precocious youth; and I thought she made the most of a cold when church or parish was concerned.  I hinted as much; but her mother seemed quite satisfied.  Poor girl!  Have I been blind?  I did not like her going to live at one of those boarding-houses for lady students.  Do you know anything of them?

Prof. D.  Of course all depends on the individual lady at the head, and the responsibility she undertakes, as well as on the tone of the inmates.  With some, it would be only staying in a safe and guarded home.  In others, there is a great amount of liberty, the girls going out without inquiry whether, with whom, or when they return.

Mr. A.  American fashion!  Well, they say young women are equal to taking care of themselves.  I wonder whether my daughter understands this, or whether it is so at Cecilia’s abode.  Do you know?

Prof. D.  I am afraid I do.  The niece of a friend of mine was there, and left it, much distressed and confused by the agnostic opinions that were freely broached there.  How did your grand-daughter come to choose it?

Mr. A.  For the sake of being with a friend.  I think Thurston is the name.

Prof. D.  I know something of that family; clever people, but bred up—on principle, if it can be so called, with their minds a blank as to religion.  I remember seeing one of the daughters at the party where I met Miss Moldwarp.

Mr. A.  So this is the society into which we have allowed our poor child to run!  I blame myself exceedingly for not having made more inquiries.  Grief made me selfishly passive, or I should have opened my eyes and theirs to the danger.  My poor Mary, what a shock it will be to her!

Prof. D.  Was not she on the spot?

Mr. A.  True; but, poor dear, she is of a gentle nature, easily led, and seeing only what her affection lets her perceive.  And now, she is not strong.

Prof. D.  She is not looking well.

Mr. A.  You think so!  I wonder whether I have been blind, and let her undertake too much.

Prof. D.  Suppose you were to bring her to town for a few days.  We should be delighted to have you, and she could see the doctor to whom she is accustomed.  Then you can judge for yourself about her daughter.

Mr. A.  Thank you, Dunlop!  It will be a great comfort if it can be managed.

VIII.  AUNT AND NIECE

SCENE.—In a hansom cab.  Mrs. Holland and Cecilia.

Mrs. H.  I wanted to speak to you, Cissy.

C.  I thought so!

Mrs. H.  What do you think of your mother?

C.  Poor old darling.  They have been worrying her till she has got hipped and nervous about herself.

Mrs. H.  Do you know what spasms she has been having?

C.  Oh! mother has had spasms as long as I can remember; and the more she thinks of them the worse they are.  I have often heard her say so.

Mrs. H.  Yes; she has gone on much too long overworking herself, and not letting your grandfather suspect anything amiss.

C.  Nerves.  That is what it always is.

Mrs. H.  Dr. Brownlow says there is failure of heart, not dangerous or advanced at present, but that there is an overstrain of all the powers, and that unless she keeps fairly quiet, and free from hurry and worry, there may be very serious, if not fatal attacks.

C.  I never did think much of Dr. Brownlow.  He told me my palpitations were nothing but indigestion, and I am sure they were not!

Mrs. H.  Well, Cissy, something must be done to relieve your mother of some of her burthens.

C.  I see what you are driving at, Aunt Phrasie; but I cannot go back till I have finished these courses.  There’s my picture, there’s the cookery school, the ambulance lectures, and our sketching tour in August.  Ever so many engagements.  I shall be free in the autumn, and then I will go down and see about it.  I told mother so.