asked Jarper, the cross old verger, if she could see Mr Pendle. Jarper, who took a paternal interest in the curate, and did not like Miss Mosk over much, since she stinted him of his full measure of beer when he patronised her father’s hotel, replied in surly tones that Mr Pendle was tired and would see no one.
‘But I must see him,’ persisted Bell, who was as obstinate as a mule. ‘My mother is very ill.’
‘Then why don’t ye stay t’ome and look arter her?’
‘She sent me out to ask Mr Pendle to see her, and I want none of your insolence, Jacob Jarper.’
‘Don’t ‘ee be bold, Miss Mosk. I hev bin verger here these sixty year, I hev, an’ I don’t want to be told my duty by sich as you.’
‘Such as me indeed!’ cried Bell, with a flash of the paternal temper. ‘If I wasn’t a lady I’d give you a piece of my mind.’
‘He! he!’ chuckled Jarper, ”pears as yer all ladies by your own way of showin’. Not that y’ain’t ‘andsome—far be it from me to say as you ain’t—but Muster Pendle—well, that’s a different matter.’
At this moment Gabriel put an end to what threatened to develop into a quarrel by appearing at the vestry door. On learning that Mrs Mosk wished to see him, he readily consented to accompany Bell, but as he had some business to attend to at the church before he went, he asked Bell to wait for a few minutes.
‘I’ll be some little time, Jarper,’ said he kindly to the sour old verger, ‘so if you give me the keys I’ll lock up and you can go home to your supper.’
‘I am hungry, Muster Pendle,’ confessed Jarper, ‘an’ it ain’t at my time of life as old folk shud starve. I’ve locked up the hull church ‘ceptin’ the vestry door, an’ ‘eres th’ key of’t. Be careful with the light an’ put it out, Muster Pendle, for if you burns down the church, what good is fine sermons, I’d like to know?’
‘It will be all right, Jarper. I’ll give you the key to-morrow. Good-night!’
‘Good-night, Jarper!’ chimed in Bell, in her most stately manner.
‘Thankee, Muster Pendle, good-night, but I don’t want no beer fro’ you this evening, Miss Bell Mosk,’ growled the old man, and chuckling over this exhibition of wit he hobbled away to his supper.
‘These common people are most insolent,’ said Bell, with an affectation of fine ladyism. ‘Let us go into the vestry, Gabriel, I wish to speak to you. Oh, you needn’t look so scared; there’s nobody about, now that old Dot-and-carry-one has gone’—this last in allusion to Jarper’s lameness.
‘Bell, please, don’t use such language,’ remonstrated Gabriel, as he conducted her into the vestry; ‘someone might hear.’
‘I don’t care if someone does,’ retorted Miss Mosk, taking a chair near the flaring, spluttering gas jet, ‘but I tell you there is no one about. I wouldn’t be here alone with you if there were. I’m as careful of my own reputation as I am of yours, I can tell you.’
‘Is your mother ill again?’ asked Gabriel, arranging some sheets of paper on the table and changing the conversation.
‘Oh, she’s no better and no worse. But you’d better come and see her, so that folks won’t be talking of my having spoken to you. A cat can’t look at a jug in this town without they think she’s after the cream.’
‘You wish to speak with me, Bell?’
‘Yes, I do; come and sit ‘longside of me.’
Gabriel, being very much in love, obeyed with the greatest willingness, and when he sat down under the gas jet would have taken Bell in his arms, but that she evaded his clasp. ‘There’s no time for anything of that sort, my dear,’ said she sharply; ‘we’ve got to talk business, you and I, we have.’
‘Business! About our engagement?’
‘You’ve hit it, Gabriel; that’s the business I wish to understand. How long is this sort of thing going on?’
‘What sort of thing?’
‘Now, don’t pretend to misunderstand me,’ cried Bell, with acerbity, ‘or you and I shall fall out of the cart. What sort of thing indeed! Why, my engagement to you being kept secret; your pretending to visit mother when it’s me you want; my being obliged to hide the ring you gave me from father’s eyes; that’s the sort of thing, Mr Gabriel Pendle.’
‘I know it is a painful position, dearest, but—’
‘Painful position!’ echoed the girl, contemptuously. ‘Oh, I don’t care two straws about the painful position. It’s the danger I’m thinking about.’
‘Danger! What do you mean? Danger from whom?’
‘From Mrs Pansey; from Mr Cargrim. She guesses a lot and he knows more than is good for either you or I. I don’t want to lose my character.’
‘Bell! no one dare say a word against your character.’
‘I should think not,’ retorted Miss Mosk, firing up. ‘I’d have the law on them if they did. I can look after myself, I hope, and there’s no man I know likely to get the better of me. I don’t say I’m an aristocrat, Gabriel, but I’m an honest girl, and as good a lady as any of them. I’ll make you a first-class wife in spite of my bringing up.’
Gabriel kissed her. ‘My darling Bell, you are the sweetest and cleverest woman in the world. You know how I adore you.’
Bell knew very well, for she was sharp enough to distinguish between genuine and spurious affection. Strange as it may appear, the refined and educated young clergyman was deeply in love with this handsome, bold woman of the people. Some lovers of flowers prefer full blown-roses, ripe and red, to the most exquisite buds. Gabriel’s tastes were the same, and he admired the florid beauty of Bell with all the ardour of his young and impetuous heart. He was blind to her liking for incongruous colours in dress: he was deaf to her bold expressions and defects in grammar. What lured him was her ripe, rich, exuberant beauty; what charmed him was the flash of her white teeth and the brilliancy of her eyes when she smiled; what dominated him was her strong will and practical way of looking on worldly affairs. Opposite natures are often attracted to one another by the very fact that they are so undeniably unlike, and the very characteristics in Bell which pleased Gabriel were those which he lacked himself.
Undoubtedly he loved her, but, it may be asked, did she love him? and that is the more difficult question to answer. Candidly speaking, Bell had an affection for Gabriel. She liked his good looks, his refined voice, his very weakness of character was not unpleasing to her. But she did not love him sufficiently to marry him for himself alone. What she wished to marry was the gentleman, the clergyman, the son of the Bishop of Beorminster, and unless Gabriel could give her all the pleasures and delights attendant on his worldly position, she was not prepared to become Mrs Gabriel Pendle. It was to make this clear to him, to clinch the bargain, to show that she was willing to barter her milkmaid beauty and strong common sense for his position and possible money, that she had come to see him. Not being bemused with love, Bell Mosk was thoroughly practical, and so spoke very much to the point. Never was there so prosaic an interview.
‘Well, it just
