THE CURATE'S TRIUMPH.

Press, Volume LXII, Issue 12203, 25 May 1905, Page 5

THE CURATE'S TRIUMPH.

Br H. .1. Ashcroft (Author of " A Stern Chase,' &c ) "I declare, Philip," continued my sister indignantly, "you aro as bad as all tho rest—bent on persecuting Mr Eastcott ; am} yet you pretend to bo his friend. lam ashamed of you." "My dear Lnura," I said, "you aro a woman and will not listen to reason." '•Reason!" sho cried disdainfully, "I am proud of being a woman if it saves mo from such reason as yours. A woman is inspired, by faith; a man by what ho calls 'reason'; that is why it's better to bo a woman." I groaned in spirit. I might bo able to break a horse, or train a (dog, but to overcome tho blind faith of a woman in tho man she loved, that I found was a task beyond my power to perform. "I see through it all. Philip," she continued. "This is another mean trick to ruin Mr Eastcott. You know tho Rector is jealous of his popularity, and father and the other churchwarden aro prepared to commit any act of injustice to please tho Rector. It is because ho places his sacred duties before tho amenities of social life, because ho is a true and earnest Christian, that tho Rector wishes to get rid of him; and not daring to do it in a straightforward manner, is pretending to giye credence to all the miserable gossip that circulates in this despicable littlo town. It makes my blood boil to think of such meanness." "There is truth in some of your assertions," I said, "and you know that until this last affair I always stood up for Eastcott, and perhaps I should do so now if it wasn't for your connection with him. You aro not actually engaged " "I wish that we were, so that I could stand by "Wilfred's side and show; the town the contempt I feel for its wicked rumours. I suppose you possess sufficient 'reason' to know why Mr Eastcott has not actually proposed to nier"'-' "I conclude ho considers his position and prospects too uncertain to undertake such an obligation." "Of course; and ho is too much a man to ask or accept father's liberality." "But, Laura," I urged, "although we both honour Eastcott. for his many admirable qualities, it is childish to shut our eyes to this wretched scandal. You must "remember I am not forming an opinion from idle gossip; I have the witness of my own ears and eyes." "Your senses have deceived you, Philip," she said, with a woman's audacity. "And let mc tell you once and for all that I will not believe anything against Wilfred, and that if he "is disgraced, I will glady share in his disgrace." We Perivalos have always been considered an obstinate lot, but I could never havo supposed a Miss Perivalo to be guilty of such extraordinary perversity, or of an infatuation that would deprive her of her senses. The Rev. Wilfred Eastcott, the curat© of our parish church, though dcssossing nothing much in the way ot family to recommend him. was a graduate of Oxford, a clever, winning, broadminded and eloquent young fellow. In person ho was tall and handsome, with a presenco that commanded respect; and it was not altogether surprising that the Rector, Mr Fox. should feci somewhat insignificant in his curate's bociety.

It was quite true that a dead set had been made against Eastcott, and I had endeavoured to influence my father in his favour; but tho close and intimate friendship that existed between the Churchwarden and tho Rector rendered my efforts of little use. Another thing that had set my father and the Rector against Eastcott was his warm friendship for Laura, for I know very well that the heads of the two families were desirous of a union between her and young Wyndham Fox, the Rector's son. Well, whatever may have been my opinion 01 KaMcott. the least 1 could say ot him now was that he had made a icol ol liiin.-elt. Fancy a man already surround**! with enemies, playing into their hands by .such mi>erable folly! It was altogether beyond my com prehension. I know what men were, but the curate's conduct v.as simply inexplicable. ~\t our loc:il theatre that week a wellknown London actress—Mi<s Maud Villain—was appearing; and betore- she had been in the place three days. 1 began to hear rumours that she and Ka-.tcoti were meeting clandestinely. There may not have been much harm in that, but in such a town a> ours it was certainly most indiscreet. 1 knew the manager ot the theatre, and I learned from him that Miss Valaire was a woman of superior character, education, and refinement. She had been on the stage tor fifteen years, and her name had never been linked with scandal. 'I'liis did not by any means reassure mc. for 1 knew jK>rfrcUy well that Eastcott would never have been attracted by a vulgar comedienne, and it wa.s possible that he had been as much attracted by this woman's superior culture as by her undoubted physical charms. 1 was out on Thursday night with my gun. boiling to get a shot at the wild fowl amongst the-.sand dunes, and was lying hidden in a kind of sand-cave, when 1 heard voices and saw two figures approaching. The moon was up. and 1 immediately recognised Eastcott and Maud Valaire. 1 could s.-e horn thtir attitude that love-making was going on, and as they pussi'd 1 overheard tho woman say : "My dearest Wilfred, but a few more days and this hateful and unnatural separation will be at an end. Our love will not be a pain then, but a real delight. Think of having my own darling—" Then they passed out of earshot, and 1 caught no more. But I kept my eyes upon them, and before they had gone far they stopped to bid ono another farewell, and then I saw them kiss. There was no doubting the fact; as plainly as 1 ever saw anything, I saw them kiss one another! And this is what I told Laura, and still her faith in this faithless curate remained unbroken! I did not meet Eastcott the next day, but 1 heard the town was ringing with his name. Someone else must have been hiding among tho sand-dunes and observed tho amorous couple, for tho story was in everybody's mouth. It was ail over with Eastcott now, and poor Laura would have to bear her disgrace as best sho could. I called at Ea«tcott's rooms that evening, but was told that ho was out. "Moro of the actress," I thought, ami walked mechanically to tho sand-dunes. It was foolish to expect to meet them thero at so early an hour, for Miss Valaire would ba engaged at the theatre. I had just arrived at my cave, when I «aw two figures approaching. Getting out of sight I waited. To my surprise Laura was by Kastcott's side, and his arm looked suspiciously like encircling lier waist. I do not know which of them most aroused my indignation—my sister for her mad infatuation, or Eastcott for his miserable duplicity. Well, the storm that was browing would soon break, the curate would lie sent packing, and then perhaps Laura wen Id como to her senses. But I was really sorry that my sister should lie mixed up in so unpleasant an affair. I had warned her. and could do no more. 1 don't know whether I ought to have left my hiding-phico and accosted the lovers, and taken Laura home. Perhaps I ought to have thrashed Eastcott. But I did not much relish being taken for a spy, so I remained in my cavo. I came across Laura later in the evening. "Phillip," sho said, "congratulate mc; Wilfred and I are engaged." "Congratulate you, Laura, how can I do that when Eastcott will lie disgraced in a few day.s? Did you not ask him about tho actress?" "I did not «> demean myself!" "Has ho spoken to father?" "Not vet." "That is wise." "What do you mean?" "Why, that fathom will never agree to your engagement' Laura, take my advice" and keep the fact quiet for a jew days." "I shall do liothing of the kind. Do you think I shall ever bo ashamed of being engaged to Mr Eastcott?" "I really tliink you are fchc most obtstinato and infatuated woman in England. You compel mc to say that you deserve the disgrace Eastcott will bring upon you." The storm-clouds gathered heavily, and tho rector and churchwardens held a conference on the Saturday night, but nothing was absolutely settled. The crisis was brought to a head by Mi.<* Valairo'.s • appearance at evening service tho next day.. The choir were already in the stalls, and Eastcott at tho reading-desk when tho tall and imposing figure of the actress was seen walking up tho aislo. Tho curate recognised her, and his act of recognition was remarked in several quarters. Laura noticed it, and I fancied turned a trifle pale, but recovered herself on finding I was observing her. At the conclusion (of the service Miss Valaire seemed in no hurry to leavo the church. Surely she had not tho audacity to await Enstcott and leavo tho KicretVedifice in hi* company.

Mr WoLsted, the other churchwarden, came and summoned my father to tho vestry. "Hullo." I thought, "the climax has been reached. The Rev. Wilfred Ea-stcott will havo occasion to remember this evening." L'.iura guessed what was about to happen, and sat with her lips firmly compressed. It was a strange situation. She, her rival and I were alone in the church. "Phillip." she said presently, "go and tell Wilfred that I am in tho church waiting for him." I entered the vestry and found Eastcott there talking unconcernedly with .-omo cf the choir-men. My father came out cf the inner vestry wind summoned mc iv. Wei.-ted. the rector, and his son Wyndhnm were there. "Philip," <=.<iid the rector in his pompou.s ton.':;, '".be churchwardens and I are determined to put a stop to this iscandal. To-night, during divine .service, this miserable intrigue has been going on bet ore my ey< s and the eyes ot tie peop'e. It is intolerable. I have decided to dismiss Eastcott, but Itefore doing so I am unxious to collect aii the evidence I ci-.n against him, and I understand you can help mc." Although I thought the curate deserved lii.s di.-.mi.s«al, I had no desire to help the rector to effect his purpo.se. "I do not know that I can materially asisi.-t you," I .'aid ; "the whole (town appears to know as much a.s I do." "You caw Eastcott nnd Maud Valaire together on the sand-dunes on Thursday night." .-aid Wyndham Fox. "How do you know?" I a.sked. He wa.s a ruieaking kind of fellow and I thoroughly disliked him. "I Mtv you there with your gun. They passed close to you, and you must have .seen them."

"Well, sir, if your son saw them that is .sunieicnt." He. did not appear to he so certain ol this, but let tho matter drop. '•We will have Eastcott in and question him." ho said. Eastcott -entered, and I could not. help admiring tho man's e.\pre-<ion of unconcern. If ho had po.>-e.-«si.'d even the tfraile.st, defence his manner would have saved him. Nothing could have been more ingenuou.s. "Mr E.i.-tcott." said the rector in the in est- p-olomn of judicial tones, "I am deeply pained that your conduct should have brought you under tho cer..Miro of myself and the churchwardens, but you have only yom>.elf to blame. You have tilled the town with scandal, and drought discredit en your office and the church generally. lam astonished I hat you should have flung all discretion 'to tho winds, and have acted like a man who had, no character to sustain. I know not what action the Jii.shop may take in regard to your conduct, but we arc decided that- you can remain curate of this church no longer." While tho Roctor was speaking Eastcott had been gazing at hint in astonishment ; when ho delivered his sentence tho curate Hushed angrily. "Mr Fox," he said, "I have heard my sentence, but am still ignorant of the charge upon which I am arraigned." His air of injured innocence was one of tho finest bit.s of acting I had ever witnessed—it was worthy of Maud Valaire herself.

"Your hypocrisy, Mr Eastcott, only adds to your offence," said tho Rector. "Your conduct is tho common talk of the town." "I do not listen to the common talk of the town, sir," said Eastcott, "and if I did I should not consider it sufficiently strong evidence to deprive a curate of his living, ana his character." "We do not rely on mere gossip. You were mxvi under compromising circumstances with a lady on the sand-dunes. Can you deny that ?" Eastcott. smiled. "No, I cannot deny that I walked on tho sand-dunes- with Miss Perivale; hut then Miss Porivale and I are engaged." ".Engaged!'' ejaculated my father and tho Rector in tho same breath. "That is the case," said Eastcott. "Laura had not my permission. Her action has been precipitate; the engagement shall be broken oh' at once. 1 consider you have- acted in a most ungentleinanly manner. My daughter shall tell you this very evening that sho has parted with you for over." "I do not think she will do that," said Eastcott confidently. Tho vestry door, which had stood ajar, now opened and Lama entered. Her face was flushed and her eyes shone luminously. "She will never say that, Wilfred," sho remarked, "her best friends have endeavoured to break her faith, but without result. Her faith in you abides with her for ever." This melodramatic incident oroduced quite a sensation in tho vestry, and made my father and tho Rector look rather foolish. "What about Maud Valaire ?" said young Fox bluntly to the curate. "Yon wero walking with her on the sand dunes on Thursday, and I saw you kiss her." At tho last words Laura looked anxiously at her lover. "Is that true or false?" asked the Rector. "Laura," said my father, "leave that man's s.ido." "I shall not, father," she said, "I do not believe these wicked stories." "You still have faith in mc, Laura?" asked Eastcott. "Yes, Wilfred." "I thank Gcd for that." "Answer my question," said Rector. "Did you or did you not kiss Miss Valaire on Thursday night?" I must admit I admired the curate's coolness, though I did not see how it could prolit him. "No hesitation, Mr Eastcott."

"The question is rather n perplexing one,' said Eastcott with that calm smilo of his. "A very perplexing one," remarked my father sarcastically. "Yes, Mr Perivale, it is; but I think I mu*t answer in the negative." "What!'' thundered the Rector; "you deny that you kissed her. You tell mo this deliberate lie? Oh, this is terrible!" "I saw you," said Wyndham vindictively; "and so did Philip Perivale." "Were you on the sand-hills, Philip, on Thursday night?" ho asked casually. "I was fowling," I answered. "It was quito an accident that I saw you." "Stop this prevarication," said tho Rector, "your position is most serious." "Gentlemen," said Eastcott, "you have been deceived." "Sho was in church this evening," said Wyndham ; "I believe she is waiting there now." "Wyndham," said the Rector, "ask her to step in here." The affair was becoming exciting. How could Eastcott dare to faco tho actress? She entered, and so handsome and composed was her appearance that even the Rector lost his assertiveness. Sho surveyed us all with a look of enquiry, and bowed gracefully to the Rector. "Did you wish to speak to mc, sir?" she asked, in her full, clear voice. "Yes, madam," said Mr Fox; "a most unpleasant duty has devolved upon mc. My curate and you have created some scandal in the town, and now Mr Eastcott is foolish enough to protect himself with denials of absolute fact. "What is tho nature of the offence?", asked the actress. "That you and he have met clandes finely late at night; that ho kissed you." Miss Valaire broke into a merry laugh. "Oh, is that all? You don't blame the poor boy for that." Was tho actress bent on ruining him? "He is a clergyman." said the Rector severely. "His conduct has brought discredit on the church." "He has disgraced my daughter," said Mr Perivale, "for after intriguing with you he had the impudence to propose to her." "And she accepted him. That was brave of her."

"Brave of her, woman?" said the Rector; "it was wicked infatuation." ''My dear," said tho nctress to Laura, "I honour you. Such faith is as rare as it is delightful." "Let us close this humiliating scene.' said tho Rector. "Whatever the partner of your indiscretion may think, Mr Eastcott, I am of tho opinion that your action has been unworthy of a clergyman and a gentleman, and must now request you to hand mo your rcsigna-* tion." "There. Wilfred." said the actress, * ; you see how careful a man should be when he i$ surrounded by persons who ber.r him ill-will. It is dangerous under such circumstances to ki.ss your own mother. Gentlemen," she continued, addressing us, "permit mc to toll you a.little story. A young lady of good family was 'foolish enough to marry a poor clergyman because sho loved him. As a consequence she earned the reprobation of her friends. She had one son, and ho became fatherless at an early age. The widow being left penniless took to the stage as a means of livelihood, and managed by hard work to carry out her late husband's wishes, and send her son to college to prepare him for the church. Fearing that the mother's profession might retard the son's progress, she separated herself from him as much as possible, and it was one of their rare and delightful meetings that you have so uncharitably misinterpreted. The lady's stage name was .Maud Valaire, but to Wilfred Eastcott his mother was always Maud Eastcott. The pseudonym docs not now exist, for the lady's theatrical life came to an end last night."

There was silence for a few minutes: tho actress's revelation had completely dumfounded us all. For myself I felt :i burst of exultation that Eastcott had triumphed, for 1 liked the man, and had. before the scandal, looked forward with pleasure to the prospect of having him for a brother-in-law. Laura was equally elated at the Curate's triumph, and approaching the handsome Mrs Eastcott ki.-scd her affectiouafory. "My dear Miss Perivule," said the ex-actre.-s, "how proud f am of Wilfred's future wife." "Mr Fox," said Eastcott magnanimously. "I am afraid my conduct has been such as to give riM to suspicion, but no real harm has been done, so apologies nro .scarcely necessary on either side." I think wo all had the good taste *o feel very much ashamed of ourselves, and tho Rector and my father had Jhe gr."ce to apologise. "Mr Perivale," said Eastcott. "I must acknowledge my presumption in asking your daughter to become my wife, but I trust yon will permit mc to humbly appeal for your consent to the engagement." Whatever my father might have done in other circumstances, at that particular moment he felt hound to be generous, and so gave his consent. Of course, as a general thing reason i.s more reasonable than faith, but for once the latter came out trumps. i