第 十 章 · 第10章

. The interview, like all other good things had to come to an end; the

days were short, and Mrs Allaby had a six miles’ drive to Crampsford.

When she was muffled up and had taken her seat, Mr Allaby’s _factotum_,

James, could perceive no change in her appearance, and little knew what

a series of delightful visions he was driving home along with his

mistress.

Professor Cowey had published works through Theobald’s father, and

Theobald had on this account been taken in tow by Mrs Cowey from the

beginning of his University career. She had had her eye upon him for

some time past, and almost as much felt it her duty to get him off her

list of young men for whom wives had to be provided, as poor Mrs Allaby

did to try and get a husband for one of her daughters. She now wrote

and asked him to come and see her, in terms that awakened his

curiosity. When he came she broached the subject of Mr Allaby’s failing

health, and after the smoothing away of such difficulties as were only

Mrs Cowey’s due, considering the interest she had taken, it was allowed

to come to pass that Theobald should go to Crampsford for six

successive Sundays and take the half of Mr Allaby’s duty at half a

guinea a Sunday, for Mrs Cowey cut down the usual stipend mercilessly,

and Theobald was not strong enough to resist.

Ignorant of the plots which were being prepared for his peace of mind

and with no idea beyond that of earning his three guineas, and perhaps

of astonishing the inhabitants of Crampsford by his academic learning,

Theobald walked over to the Rectory one Sunday morning early in

December—a few weeks only after he had been ordained. He had taken a

great deal of pains with his sermon, which was on the subject of

geology—then coming to the fore as a theological bugbear. He showed

that so far as geology was worth anything at all—and he was too liberal

entirely to pooh-pooh it—it confirmed the absolutely historical

character of the Mosaic account of the Creation as given in Genesis.

Any phenomena which at first sight appeared to make against this view

were only partial phenomena and broke down upon investigation. Nothing

could be in more excellent taste, and when Theobald adjourned to the

rectory, where he was to dine between the services, Mr Allaby

complimented him warmly upon his début, while the ladies of the family

could hardly find words with which to express their admiration.

Theobald knew nothing about women. The only women he had been thrown in

contact with were his sisters, two of whom were always correcting him,

and a few school friends whom these had got their father to ask to

Elmhurst. These young ladies had either been so shy that they and

Theobald had never amalgamated, or they had been supposed to be clever

and had said smart things to him. He did not say smart things himself

and did not want other people to say them. Besides, they talked about

music—and he hated music—or pictures—and he hated pictures—or books—and

except the classics he hated books. And then sometimes he was wanted to

dance with them, and he did not know how to dance, and did not want to

know.

At Mrs Cowey’s parties again he had seen some young ladies and had been

introduced to them. He had tried to make himself agreeable, but was

always left with the impression that he had not been successful. The

young ladies of Mrs Cowey’s set were by no means the most attractive

that might have been found in the University, and Theobald may be

excused for not losing his heart to the greater number of them, while

if for a minute or two he was thrown in with one of the prettier and

more agreeable girls he was almost immediately cut out by someone less

bashful than himself, and sneaked off, feeling as far as the fair sex

was concerned, like the impotent man at the pool of Bethesda.

What a really nice girl might have done with him I cannot tell, but

fate had thrown none such in his way except his youngest sister

Alethea, whom he might perhaps have liked if she had not been his

sister. The result of his experience was that women had never done him

any good and he was not accustomed to associate them with any pleasure;

if there was a part of Hamlet in connection with them it had been so

completely cut out in the edition of the play in which he was required

to act that he had come to disbelieve in its existence. As for kissing,

he had never kissed a woman in his life except his sister—and my own

sisters when we were all small children together. Over and above these

kisses, he had until quite lately been required to imprint a solemn

flabby kiss night and morning upon his father’s cheek, and this, to the

best of my belief, was the extent of Theobald’s knowledge in the matter

of kissing, at the time of which I am now writing. The result of the

foregoing was that he had come to dislike women, as mysterious beings

whose ways were not as his ways, nor their thoughts as his thoughts.

With these antecedents Theobald naturally felt rather bashful on

finding himself the admired of five strange young ladies. I remember

when I was a boy myself I was once asked to take tea at a girls’ school

where one of my sisters was boarding. I was then about twelve years

old. Everything went off well during tea-time, for the Lady Principal

of the establishment was present. But there came a time when she went

away and I was left alone with the girls. The moment the mistress’s

back was turned the head girl, who was about my own age, came up,

pointed her finger at me, made a face and said solemnly, “A na-a-sty

bo-o-y!” All the girls followed her in rotation making the same gesture

and the same reproach upon my being a boy. It gave me a great scare. I

believe I cried, and I know it was a long time before I could again

face a girl without a strong desire to run away.

Theobald felt at first much as I had myself done at the girls’ school,

but the Miss Allabys did not tell him he was a nasty bo-o-oy. Their

papa and mamma were so cordial and they themselves lifted him so deftly

over conversational stiles that before dinner was over Theobald thought

the family to be a really very charming one, and felt as though he were

being appreciated in a way to which he had not hitherto been

accustomed.

With dinner his shyness wore off. He was by no means plain, his

academic prestige was very fair. There was nothing about him to lay

hold of as unconventional or ridiculous; the impression he created upon

the young ladies was quite as favourable as that which they had created

upon himself; for they knew not much more about men than he about

women.

As soon as he was gone, the harmony of the establishment was broken by

a storm which arose upon the question which of them it should be who

should become Mrs Pontifex. “My dears,” said their father, when he saw

that they did not seem likely to settle the matter among themselves,

“Wait till to-morrow, and then play at cards for him.” Having said

which he retired to his study, where he took a nightly glass of whisky

and a pipe of tobacco.