"I think it depends on the will," said Margaret.
"Some people are angry with those whose example would show that there is a higher standard," said Ethel.
"And," said Margaret, "some who have the high one set before them content themselves with knowing that it cannot be fully attained, and will not try."
"The standard is the effect of early impression," said Dr. May. "I should be very sorry to think it could not be raised."
"Faithful in a little--" said Ethel. "I suppose all good people's standard is always going higher."
"As they comprehend more of absolute perfection," said Margaret.
CHAPTER XV.
The city's golden spire it was, When hope and health were strongest; But now it is the churchyard grass, We look upon the longest.--E. B. BROWNING.
A disinclination for exertion or going into public hung upon Dr. May, but he was obliged to rouse himself to attend the Town Council meeting, which was held a few days after the vicar's funeral, to decide on the next appointment. If it had depended on himself alone, his choice would have been Mr. Edward Wilmot, whom the death of his good old father had uprooted from Settlesham; and the girls had much hope, but he was too much out of spirits to be sanguine. He said that he should only hear a great deal of offensive stuff from Tomkins the brewer; and that, in the desire to displease nobody, the votes should settle down on some nonentity, was the best which was likely to happen. Thus, grumbling, he set off, and his daughters watched anxiously for his return. They saw him come through the garden with a quick, light step, that made them augur well, and he entered the room with the corners of his mouth turning up. "I see," said Ethel, "it is all right."
"They were going to have made a very absurd choice."
"But you prevented it? Who was it?"
"Ah! I told you Master Ritchie was turning out a popular preacher."
"You don't mean that they chose Richard!" cried Margaret breathlessly.
"As sure as my name is Dick May, they did, every man of them, except Tomkins, and even he held his tongue; I did not think it of them," said the doctor, almost overcome; "but there is much more goodness of heart in the world than one gives it credit for."
And good Dr. May was not one to give the least credit for all that was like himself.
"But it was Richard's own doing," he continued. "Those sermons made a great impression, and they love the boy, because he has grown up among them. The old mayor waddled up to me, as I came in, telling me that they had been talking it over, and they were unanimously agreed that they could not have a parson they should like better than Mr. Richard."
"Good old Mr. Doddesley! I can see him!" cried Ethel.
"I expected it so little, that I thought he meant some Richards; but no, he said Mr. Richard May, if he had nothing better in view--they liked him, and knew he was a very steady, good young gentleman, and if he took after his fathers that went before him--and they thought we might like to have him settled near!"
"How very kind!" said Margaret, as the tears came. "We shall love our own townsfolk better than ever!"
"I always told you so, if you would but believe it. They have warm, sound hearts, every one of them! I declare, I did not know which way to look, I was so sorry to disappoint them."
"Disappoint them!" cried Margaret, in consternation.
"I was thinking," said Ethel. "I do not believe Richard would think himself equal to this place in such a state as it is. He is so diffident."
"Yes," said Dr. May, "if he were ten or twelve years older, it would be another thing; but here, where everything is to be done, he would not bring weight or force enough. He would only work himself to death, for individuals, without going to the root. Margaret, my darling, I am very sorry to have disappointed you so much--it would have been as great a pleasure as we could have had in this world to have the lad here--"
"And Cocksmoor," sighed Ethel.
"I shall be grateful all my life to those good people for thinking of it," continued the doctor; "but look you here, it was my business to get the best man chosen in my power and, though as to goodness, I believe the dear Ritchie has not many equals; I don't think we can conscientiously say he would be, at present, the best vicar for Stoneborough."
Ethel would not say no, for fear she should pain Margaret.
"Besides," continued Dr. May, "after having staved off the sale of the presentation as a sin, it would hardly have been handsome to have let my own son profit by it. It would have seemed as if we had our private ends, when Richard helped poor old Mr. Ramsden."
Margaret owned this, and Ethel said Richard would be glad to be spared the refusal.
"I was sure of it. The poor fellow would have been perplexed between the right and consideration for us. A vicar here ought to carry things with a high hand, and that is hardest to do at a man's own home, especially for a quiet lad like him."
"Yes, papa, it was quite right," said Margaret, recovering herself; "it has spared Richard a great deal."
"But are we to have Mr. Wilmot?" said Ethel. "Think of our not having heard!"
"Ay. If they would not have had Wilmot, or a man of his calibre, perhaps I might have let them offer it to Richard. I almost wish I had. With help, and Ethel--"
"No, no, papa," said Margaret. "You are making me angry with myself for my folly. It is much better for Richard himself, and for us all, as well as the town. Think how long we have wished for Mr. Wilmot!"
"He will be in time for the opening of Cocksmoor school!" cried Ethel. "How did you manage it?"
"I did not manage at all," said the doctor. "I told them exactly my mind, that Richard was not old enough for such arduous work; and though no words could tell how obliged I was, if they asked me who was the best man for it I knew, I should say Edward Wilmot, and I thought he deserved something from us, for the work he did gratis, when he was second master. Tomkins growled a little, but, fortunately, no one was prepared with another proposal, so they all came round, and the mayor is to write by this evening's post, and so shall I. If we could only have given Richard a dozen more years!"
Margaret was somewhat comforted to find that the sacrifice had cost her father a good deal; she was always slightly jealous for Richard, and now that Alan was gone, she clung to him more than ever. His soft calm manner supported her more than any other human comforter, and she always yearned after him when absent, more than for all the other brothers; but her father's decision had been too high-minded for her to dare to wish it recalled, and she could not but own that Richard would have had to undergo more toil and annoyance than perhaps his health would have endured.
Flora had discontinued comments to her sisters on her father's proceedings, finding that observations mortified Margaret, and did not tend to peace with Ethel; but she told her husband that she did not regret it much, for Richard would have exhausted his own income, and his father's likewise, in paying curates, and raising funds for charities. She scarcely expected Mr. Edward Wilmot to accept the offer, aware as he was, of the many disadvantages he should have to contend with, and unsuccessful as he had been in dealing with the Ladies' Committee.
However, Mr. Wilmot signified his thankful acceptance, and, in due time, his familiar tap was heard at the drawing-room door, at tea- time, as if he had just returned after the holidays. He was most gladly welcomed, and soon was installed in his own place, with his goddaughter, Mary, blushing with pleasure at pouring out his coffee.
"Well, Ethel, how is Cocksmoor? How like old times!"
"Oh," cried Ethel, "we are so glad you will see the beginning of the school!"
"I hear you are finishing Cherry Elwood, too."
"Much against Ethel's will," said Margaret; "but we thought Cherry not easily spoiled. And Whitford school seems to be in very good order. Dr. Spencer went and had an inspection of it, and conferred with all the authorities."