Alas! such is our weakness, that we often more readily believe and speak of another that which is evil than that which is good.But perfect men do not easily give credit to every report; because they know man's weakness, which is very prone to evil, and very subject to fail in words.THOMAS A KEMPIS.
All through that evening, and through the first part of the succeeding day, I was crowded out of the curate's mind by a host of thoughts with which I had nothing in common; and though I hovered about him as he taught in the school, and visited several sick people, and argued with an habitual drunkard, and worked at his Sunday sermon, a Power, which I felt but did not understand, baffled all my attempts to gain an entrance and attract his notice.I made a desperate attack on him after lunch as he sat smoking and enjoying a well-earned rest, but it was of no avail.I followed him to a large garden-party later on, but to my great annoyance he went about talking to every one in the pleasantest way imaginable, though I perceived that he was longing to play tennis instead.
At length, however, my opportunity came.Mr.Blackthorne was talking to the lady of the house, Mrs.Courtenay, when she suddenly exclaimed:-"Ah, here is Mr.Zaluski just arriving.I began to be afraid that he had forgotten the day, and he is always such an acquisition.How do you do, Mr.Zaluski?" she said, greeting my victim warmly as he stepped on to the terrace."So glad you were able to come.You know Mr.Blackthorne, I think."Zaluski greeted the curate pleasantly, and his dark eyes lighted up with a gleam of amusement.
"Oh, we are great friends," he said laughingly."Only, you know, I sometimes shock him a little--just a very little.""That is very unkind of you, I am sure," said Mrs.Courtenay, smiling."No, not at all," said Zaluski, with the audacity of a privileged being.
"It is just my little amusement, very harmless, very--what you call innocent.Mr.Blackthorne cannot make up his mind about me.Oneday I appear to him to be Catholic, the next Comtist, the next Orthodox Greek, the next a convert to the Anglican communion.I am a mystery, you see! And mysteries are as indispensable in life as in a romance."He laughed.Mrs.Courtenay laughed too, and a little friendly banter was carried on between them, while the curate stood by feeling rather out of it.
I drew nearer to him, perceiving that my prospects bid fair to improve.For very few people can feel out of it without drifting into a self-regarding mood, and then they are the easiest prey imaginable.Undoubtedly a man like Zaluski, with his easy nonchalance, his knowledge of the world, his genuine good-nature, and the background of sterling qualities which came upon you as a surprise because he loved to make himself seem a mere idler, was apt to eclipse an ordinary mortal like James Blackthorne.The curate perceived this and did not like to be eclipsed--as a matter of fact, nobody does.It seemed to him a little unfair that he, who had hitherto been made much of, should be called to play second fiddle to this rich Polish fellow who had never done anything for Muddleton or the neighbourhood.And then, too, Sigismund Zaluski had a way of poking fun at him which he resented, and would not take in good part.
Something of this began to stir in his mind; and he cordially hated the Pole when Jim Courtenay, who arranged the tennis, came up and asked him to play in the next set, passing the curate by altogether.
Then I found no difficulty at all in taking possession of him; indeed he was delighted to have me brought back to his memory, he positively gloated over me, and I grew apace.
Zaluski, in the seventh heaven of happiness, was playing with Gertrude Morley, and his play was so good and so graceful that every one was watching it with pleasure.His partner, too, played well; she was a pretty, fair-haired girl, with soft grey eyes like the eyes of a dove; she wore a white tennis dress and a white sailor hat, and at her throat she had fastened a cluster of those beautiful orange-coloured roses known by the prosaic name of 'William Allan Richardson.'
If Mr.Blackthorne grew angry as he watched Sigismund Zaluski, he grew doubly angry as he watched Gertrude Morley.He said to himselfthat it was intolerable that such a girl should fall a prey to a vain, shallow, unprincipled foreigner, and in a few minutes he had painted such a dark picture of poor Sigismund that my strength increased tenfold.
"Mr.Blackthorne," said Mrs.Courtenay, "would you take Mrs.Milton- Cleave to have an ice?"Now Mrs.Milton-Cleave had always been one of the curate's great friends.She was a very pleasant, talkative woman of six-and- thirty, and a general favourite.Her popularity was well deserved, for she was always ready to do a kind action, and often went out of her way to help people who had not the slightest claim upon her.There was, however, no repose about Mrs.Milton-Cleave, and an acute observer would have discovered that her universal readiness to help was caused to some extent by her good heart, but in a very large degree by her restless and over- active brain.Her sphere was scarcely large enough for her, she would have made an excellent head of an orphan asylum or manager of some large institution, but her quiet country life offered far too narrow a field for her energy.
