No eloquence on the part of the two ladies at the vicarage, or of the Squire, could turn Mr. Fenwick from his purpose, but he did consent at last to go over with the Squire to Salisbury, and to consult Mr. Chamberlaine. A proposition was made to him as to consulting the bishop, for whom personally he always expressed a liking, and whose office he declared that he held in the highest veneration; but he explained that this was not a matter in which the bishop should be invited to exercise authority.

“The bishop has nothing to do with my freehold,” he said.

“But if you want an opinion,” said the Squire, “why not go to a man whose opinion will be worth having?”

Then the Vicar explained again. His respect for the bishop was so great, that any opinion coming from his lordship would, to him, be more than advice; it would be law. So great was his mingled admiration of the man and respect for the office!

“What he means,” said Mrs. Fenwick, “is, that he won’t go to the bishop, because he has made up his mind already. You are, both of you, throwing away your time and money in going to Salisbury at all.”

“I’m not sure but what she’s right there,” said the Vicar. Nevertheless they went to Salisbury.

The Rev. Henry Fitzackerly Chamberlaine was very eloquent, clear, and argumentative on the subject, and perhaps a little overbearing. He insisted that the chapel should be removed without a moment’s delay; and that notice as to its removal should be served upon all the persons concerned,—upon Mr. Puddleham, upon the builder, upon the chapel trustees, the elders of the congregation,—“if there be any elders,” said Mr. Chamberlaine, with a delightful touch of irony,—and upon the Marquis and the Marquis’s agent. He was eloquent, authoritative and loud. When the Vicar remarked that after all the chapel had been built for a good purpose, Mr. Chamberlaine became quite excited in his eloquence.

“The glebe of Bullhampton, Mr. Fenwick,” said he, “has not been confided to your care for the propagation of dissent.”

“Nor has the vicarage house been confided to me for the reading of novels; but that is what goes on there.”

“The house is for your private comfort,” said the prebendary.

“And so is the glebe,” said the Vicar; “and I shall not be comfortable if I make these people put down a house of prayer.”

And there was another argument against the Vicar’s views, very strong. This glebe was only given to him in trust. He was bound so to use it, that it should fall into the hands of his successor unimpaired and with full capability for fruition. “You have no right to leave to another the demolition of a building, the erection of which you should have prevented.” This argument was more difficult of answer than the other, but Mr. Fenwick did answer it.

“I feel all that,” said he; “and I think it likely that my estate may be liable for the expense of removal. The chapel may be brought in as a dilapidation. But that which I can answer with my purse, need not lie upon my conscience. I could let the bit of land, I have no doubt,—though not on a building lease.”

“But they have built on it,” said Mr. Chamberlaine.

“No doubt, they have; and I can see that my estate may be called upon to restore the bit of ground to its former position. What I can’t see is, that I am bound to enforce the removal now.”

Mr. Chamberlaine took up the matter with great spirit, and gave a couple of hours to the discussion, but the Vicar was not shaken.

The Vicar was not shaken, but his manner as he went out from the prebendary’s presence, left some doubt as to his firmness in the mind both of that dignitary and of the Squire. He thanked Mr. Chamberlaine very courteously, and acknowledged that there was a great deal in the arguments which had been used.

“I am sure you will find it best to clear your ground of the nuisance at once,” said Mr. Chamberlaine, with that high tone which he knew so well how to assume; and these were the last words spoken.

“Well?” said the Squire, as soon as they were out in the Close, asking his friend as to his decision.

“It’s a very knotty point,” said Fenwick.

“I don’t much like my uncle’s tone,” said the Squire; “I never do. But I think he is right.”

“I won’t say but what he may be.”

“It’ll have to come down, Frank,” said the Squire.

“No doubt, some day. But I am quite sure as to this, Harry; that when you have a doubt as to your duty, you can’t be wrong in delaying that, the doing of which would gratify your own ill will. Don’t you go and tell this to the women; but to my eyes that conventicle at Bullhampton is the most hideous, abominable, and disagreeable object that ever was placed upon the earth!”

“So it is to mine,” said the Squire.

“And therefore I won’t touch a brick of it. It shall be my hair shirt, my fast day, my sacrifice of a broken heart, my little pet good work. It will enable me to take all the good things of the world that come in my way, and flatter myself that I am not self-indulgent. There is not a dissenter in Bullhampton will get so much out of the chapel as I will.”

“I fancy they can make you have it pulled down.”

“Then their making me shall be my hair shirt, and I shall be fitted just as well.” Upon that they went back to Bullhampton, and the Squire told the two ladies what had passed; as to the hair shirt and all.

Mr. Fenwick in making for himself his hair shirt did not think it necessary to abstain from writing to the Marquis of Trowbridge. This he did on that same day after his return from Salisbury. In the middle of the winter he had written a letter to the Marquis, remonstrating against the building of the chapel opposite to his own gate. He now took out his copy of that letter, and the answer to it, in which the agent of the Marquis had told him that the Marquis considered that the spot in question was the most eligible site which his lordship could bestow for the purpose in question. Our Vicar was very anxious not to disturb the chapel now that it was built; but he was quite as anxious to disturb the Marquis. In the formation of that hair shirt which he was minded to wear, he did not intend to weave in any mercy towards the Marquis. It behoved him to punish the Marquis,—for the good of society in general. As a trespasser he forgave the Marquis, in a Christian point of view; but as a pestilent wasp on the earth, stinging folks right and left with an arrogance, the ignorance of which was the only excuse to be made for his cruelty, he thought it to be his duty to set his heel upon the Marquis; which he did by writing the following letter.

Bullhampton Vicarage, July 18, 186—.

My Lord Marquis,

On the 3rd of January last I ventured to write to your lordship with the object of saving myself and my family from a great annoyance, and of saving you also from the disgrace of subjecting me to it. I then submitted to you the expediency of giving in the parish some other site for the erection of a dissenting chapel than the small patch of ground immediately opposite to the vicarage gate, which, as I explained to you, I had always regarded as belonging to the vicarage. I did not for a moment question your lordship’s right to give the land in question, but appealed simply to your good-feeling. I confess that I took it for granted that even your lordship, in so very high-handed a proceeding, would take care to have right on your side. In answer to this I received a letter from your man of business, of which, as coming from him, I do not complain, but which, as a reply to my letter to your lordship, was an insult. The chapel has been built, and on last Sunday was opened for worship.

I have now learned that the land which you have given away did not belong to your lordship, and never formed a portion of the Stowte estate in this parish. It was, and is, glebe land; and formed, at the time of your bestowal, a portion of my freehold as Vicar. I acknowledge that I was remiss in presuming that you as a landlord knew the limits of your own rights, and that you would not trespass beyond them. I should have made my inquiry more urgently. I have made it now, and your lordship may satisfy yourself by referring to the maps of the parish lands, which are to be found in the bishop’s chancery, and also at St. John’s, Oxford, if you cannot do so by any survey of the estate in your own possession. I enclose a sketch showing the exact limits of the glebe i............