It was acknowledged by Mrs. Carbuncle very freely that in the matter of tribute no one behaved better than Mr. Emilius, the fashionable, foreign, ci-devant Jew preacher, who still drew great congregations in the neighbourhood of Mrs. Carbuncle’s house. Mrs. Carbuncle, no doubt, attended regularly at Mr. Emilius’s church, and had taken a sitting for thirteen Sundays at something like ten shillings a Sunday. But she had not as yet paid the money, and Mr. Emilius was well aware that if his tickets were not paid for in advance, there would be considerable defalcations in his income. He was, as a rule, very particular as to such payments, and would not allow a name to be put on a sitting till the money had reached his pockets; but with Mrs. Carbuncle he had descended to no such commercial accuracy. Mrs. Carbuncle had seats for three — for one of which Lady Eustace paid her share in advance — in the midst of the very best pews in the most conspicuous part of the house, and hardly a word had been said to her about the money. And now there came to them from Mr. Emilius the prettiest little gold salver that ever was seen.
“I send Messrs. Clerico’s docket,” wrote Mr. Emilius, “as Miss Roanoke may like to know the quality of the metal.”
“Ah,” said Mrs. Carbuncle, inspecting the little dish and putting two and two together; “he’s got it cheap, no doubt, at the place where they commissioned him to buy the plate and candlesticks for the church; but at ￡3 16s. 3d. the gold is worth nearly twenty pounds.” Mr. Emilius no doubt had had his outing in the autumn through the instrumentality of Mrs. Carbuncle’s kindness; but that was past and gone, and such lavish gratitude for a past favour could hardly be expected from Mr. Emilius. “I’ll be hanged if he isn’t after Portray Castle,” said Mrs. Carbuncle to herself.
Poor Emilius was after Portray Castle and had been after Portray Castle in a silent, not very confident, but yet not altogether hopeless manner ever since he had seen the glories of that place and learned something of truth as to the widow’s income. Mrs. Carbuncle was led to her conclusion not simply by the wedding present, but in part also by the diligence displayed by Mr. Emilius in removing the doubts which had got abroad respecting his condition in life. He assured Mrs. Carbuncle that he had never been married. Shortly after his ordination, which had been effected under the hands of that great and good man the late Bishop of Jerusalem, he had taken to live with him a lady who was — Mrs. Carbuncle did not quite recollect who the lady was, but remembered that she was connected in some way with a step-mother of Mr. Emilius who lived in Bohemia. This lady had for a while kept house for Mr. Emilius; but ill-natured things had been said, and Mr. Emilius, having respect to his cloth, had sent the poor lady back to Bohemia. The consequence was that he now lived in a solitude which was absolute and, as Mr. Emilius added, somewhat melancholy. All this Mr. Emilius explained very fully, not to Lizzie herself, but to Mrs. Carbuncle. If Lady Eustace chose to entertain such a suitor, why should he not come? It was nothing to Mrs. Carbuncle.
Lizzie laughed when she was told that she might add the reverend gentleman to the list of her admirers.
“Don’t you remember,” she said, “how we used to chaff Miss Macnulty about him?”
“I knew better than that,” replied Mrs. Carbuncle.
“There is no saying what a man may be after,” said Lizzie. “I didn’t know but what he might have thought that Macnulty’s connection would increase his congregation.”
“He’s after you, my dear, and your income. He can manage a congregation for himself.”
Lizzie was very civil to him, but it would be unjust to her to say that she gave him any encouragement. It is quite the proper thing for a lady to be on intimate, and even on affectionate, terms with her favourite clergyman, and Lizzie certainly had intercourse with no clergyman who was a greater favourite with her than Mr. Emilius. She had a dean for an uncle, and a bishop for an uncle-inlaw; but she was at no pains to hide her contempt for these old fogies of the church.
“They preach now and then in the cathedral,” she said to Mr. Emilius, “and everybody takes the opportunity of going to sleep.” Mr. Emilius was very much amused at this description of the eloquence of the dignitaries. It was quite natural to him that people should go to sleep in church who take no trouble in seeking eloquent preachers.
“Ah,” he said, “the church in England, which is my church, the church which I love, is beautiful. She is as a maiden, all glorious with fine raiment. But, alas, she is mute. She does not sing. She has no melody. But the time cometh in which she shall sing. I, myself, I am a poor singer in the great choir.” In saying which Mr. Emilius no doubt intended to allude to his eloquence as a preacher.
He was a man who could listen as well as sing, and he was very careful to hear well that which was being said in public about Lady Eustace and her diamonds. He had learned thoroughly what was her condition in reference to the Portray estate, and was rejoiced rather than otherwise to find that she enjoyed only a life-interest in the property. Had the thing been better than it was, it would have been the further removed from his reach. And in the same way, when rumours reached him prejudicial to Lizzie in respect of the diamonds, he perceived that such prejudice might work weal for him. A gentleman once, on ordering a mackerel that would come to a shilling, found he could have a stale mackerel for sixpence. “Then bring me a stale mackerel,” said the gentleman. Mr. Emilius coveted fish, but was aware that his position did not justify him in expecting the best fish in the market. The Lord Fawns and the Frank Greystocks of the world would be less likely to covet Lizzie, should she by any little indiscretion have placed herself under a temporary cloud. Mr. Emilius had carefully observed the heavens, and knew how quickly such clouds will disperse themselves when they are tinged with gold. There was nothing which Lizzie had done, or would be likely to do, which could materially affect her income. It might indeed be possible that the Eustaces should make her pay for the necklace; but even in that case there would be quite enough left for that modest, unambitious comfort which Mr. Emilius desired. It was by preaching, and not by wealth, that he must make himself known in the world! but for a preacher to have a pretty wife with a title and a good income, and a castle in Scotland, what an Elysium it would be! In such a condition he would envy no dean, no bishop, no archbishop! He thought a great deal about it, and saw no positive bar to his success.
She told him that she was going to Scotland.
“Not immediately!” he exclaimed.
“My little boy is there,” she said.
“But why should not your little boy be here? Surely for people who can choose, the great centre of the world offers attractions which cannot be found in secluded spots.”
“I love seclusion,” said Lizzie with rapture.
“Ah, yes; I can believe that.” Mr. Emilius had himself witnessed the seclusion of Portray Castle, and had heard, when there, many stories of the Ayrshire hunting. “It is your nature — but, dear Lady Eustace, will you allow me to say that our nature is implanted in us in accordance with the Fall?”
“Do you mean to say that it is wicked to like to be in Scotland better than in this giddy town?”
“I say nothing about wicked, Lady Eustace; but this I do say, that nature alone will not lead us always aright. It is good to be at Portray part of the year, no doubt; but are there not blessings in such a congregation of humanity as this London which you cannot find at Portray?”
“I can hear you preach, Mr. Emilius, certainly.”
“I hope that is something, too, Lady Eustace; otherwise a great many people who kindly come to hear me must sadly waste their time. And your example to the world around; is it not more serviceable amidst the crowds of London than in the solitudes of Scotland? There is more good to be done, Lady Eustace, by living among our fellow creatures than by deserting them. Therefore I think you should not go to Scotland before August, but should have your little boy brought to you here.”
“The air of his native mountains is everything to my child,” said Lizzie. The child had in fact been born at Bobsborough, but that probably would make no real difference.
“You cannot wonder that I should plead for your stay,” said Mr. Emilius, throwing all his soul into his eyes. “How dark would everything be to me if I missed you from your seat in the house of praise and prayer!”
Lizzie Eustace, like some other ladies who ought to be more appreciative, was altogether deficient in what may perhaps be called good taste in reference to men. Though she was clever, and though in spite of her ignorance she at once knew an intelligent man from a fool, she did not know the difference between a gentleman and a —“cad.” It was in her estimation something against Mr. Emilius that he was a clergyman, something against him that he had nothing but what he earned, something against him that he was supposed to be a renegade Jew, and that nobody knew whence he came nor who he was. These deficiencies or drawbacks Lizzie recognised. But it was nothing against him in her judgment that he was a greasy, fawning, pawing, creeping, black-browed rascal, who could not look her full in the face, an............