SHORT STORY.

Otago Witness, Issue 2425, 5 September 1900, Page 57

SHORT STORY.

Mrs Yorke suffered from that last infirmity of noble minds : she was ambitious. Not that she was in other respects remark-

able for nobility of mind. Those who knew her best thought her somewhat lacking in those qualities which best befit a clergyman's wife. At the time her husband married her she was governess to his father's young children by a second wife. She could boast of thorough French and German acquired abroad, and she possessed other charms and accomplishments which did not render themselves so easy of adA'ertisement, but which were far more germane* to what was at that time her one great aim in life — a good marriage. Young Mr Cyril Yorke, who was a goodnatured, simple-hearted youth blessed with more money than brains, fell hopelessly in love with the governess, as indeed she had intended he should. And although his father disliked the idea x>i marriage, and thought young Cyril was making a fool of himself, yet he submitted to it in the end as inevitable. Miss Montgomery, as she then was, was young, she was pretty, &he was a lady. The only thing perhaps that could be urged against her was the unpardonable crime of being poor. But as Cyril was nobly provided for under the will of his grandfather, the old tea-mer-chant, he himself felt this to be no drawback at all, whatever might be his father's views on the matter.

He was only a deacon when they married, but he soon took priest's orders, and not long afterwards political influence obtained for him the Lord Chancellor's living of Welthaby, about 10 miles from the Cathedral City of St. Hilary. Mrs Yorke was charmed with her new life, .and delighted in nothing more than the discharge of her various social duties. Her dinners were fantasias in gastronomic art ; her menus, so young Shawe-Shawe said, would have read like poetry, except that they were so original. Still, though courted, flattered, and admired, Mrs Yorke was not happy. It was all very well for the first years to go on so ; but she was no longer satisfied that her husband should remain just an ordinary country parson. She cast about in her mind, debating what could be done. A bishopric was out of the question. A residentiary canonry? Even that appeared to go beyond the possibilities of the situation. An ■honorary canonry ? Why not? That at least required no special a"bility ; anybody could be an honorary canon.

So far from being a "condition of such preferment, ability proved itself to be a positive disqualification according to the cynical, who affirmed that the Bishop took care to surround himself with mediocrities. Certainly his lordship shone more brilliantly by the contrast. Was not old EusLmore made an honorary canon because he spent two thousand pounds in adding a steeple to his church? And that numskull Crawley, because he restored a church that nobody ever attended ; and Mills, because his wife was the late Bishop's {laugh.-.

ter ; and young Honeybunne, because — Avell, nobody could suggest eA'en a plausible reason for that appointment.

There Avere more Avays of getting an honorary canonry than one, that Avas evident enough to Mrs Yorke. Why should not she Avork her husband's promotion someLoav? She did not exactly see lioav just at present, but Cyril must, and should, be an honorary canon. Even if his stall brought no revenue, yet the title Avould be his. She already imagined herself speaking of the " canor>." " Tell the Canon tea is ready. " "lam so soi'ry the Canon is not at home ! " She rehearsed such little speeches to herself, and she determined to realise them in serious earnest.

She had r>repared the Avay to some extent by, taking care that Cyril's name should appear in every subscription list that could possibly meet the Bishop's eye ; Avhile she had managed to get herself put on most, if not all, of the ladies' committees, and was in fact vice-president of one society in Avhich the Bishop's lady took peculiar interest — the Society for tne Gratuitous Supply of Dutch Ovens to Distressed and Deserving Agricultural Labourers. Still, it Avas important that she should get at the Bishop himself, in Avhose gift the honorary eanonries lay. The present seemed a propitious moment. There Avere tAVo A-acancieej in the 'list. ,

It so happened that the -Bishop Avas comirfg on episcopal duty to Welthaby. Noav,if eA-er, Avas Mrs Yorke's opportunity. She would strike a bloAv iioav. How, she could not foresee. But she Arould wait upon circumstance, and Fortune, she knew, favoured the bold.

It Avas early in February. The Aveather Avas clear and still, the roads Avere good, for recent Avinds had dried them hard, and they Avere in splendid condition for cycling. The Bishop had sent on his robes in the morning, intending to cycle OA'er in the cA T ening. He Avas a neAV com-ert to the fascinating exercise, and the craze Avas strong tipon him. " I find it most beneficial. The rapid passage through the air is — cr — 3i" — mos,t — 2v — jxhilarating ! " Such Avas his lordship's oavli testimony, deliA*ered with that iuipressiveness Avhich marked eA'en his most trifling utterances.

Thus it Avas that his lordship set out from St. Hilary on this momentous February evening. It Avas still daylight Avhen he set out ; but in the hurry of starting he had thoughtlessly omitted to pnmde himself Avith a lamp. The darkness came on rapidly as he left St. Hilary farther and farther bebind him, and it gradually daArned upon his lordship's mind that ho avouM soon be threading his Avay along jdark country roads Avithout a lamp. He had passed through the scattered hamlet of Slumpto'n, the only village between St. Hilary and Welthaby, and he Avas now, about three miles distant from the-Rectory. He bad by this time groAvn accustomed to the gloom and apprehended no danger. It Avould be ridiculous weakness to get off his bicycle and push it before him simply because he had no light. The road Avas absolutely deserted ; he would ride on as quickly as possible, and chance being caught. It was not the highest Avisdom. Experience ought to have taught him that, whateA r er might be ttie case with ordinary mortals, it is unsafe for Bishops to rim such risks. He chanced it, however, but Avith the most unfortunate consequences ; for, just as lie Avas turning a corner at the foot of the hill, less than half a mile from the Rectory itself, he ran full tilt into a man. The Bishop Avas- spilt, the man was knocked doAvn. ' ...

His lordship was quickly on his feet again, happily none the Avorse for his spill. The man whom he had run down got up angrily. The Bishop's first impulse Avas to fly under coA^er of the darkness ; but, unluckily, a hill ''ay before him, and even if he had ridden up it, he could not haA-e gone at more than a smart Avalking pace. The man, however, Avas sharp enough to obsen r e the Bishop's intention, and to place himself full in front of him.

" No, you don ■ he cried, angrily. '' Here y' are a-ridin' in the dark Avithout ne'er a lamp at all. Yer knock me over, and ycr'd like to sneak off in the dark. I say yer don't ; not if I know it. I Avant your name and address first. I've ketched yer a-ridin' Avithout a light to the common danger. I know my duty, and I mean to do it."

The Bishop recognised the uniform of a country policeman, and said nothing. The position Avas very aAvkward. He kneAv he was in the wrong, and thought it only polite to be civil.

" I hope I've not hurt you, my good man ! "

" It ain't no good tryin' to come it over me like that. Don't ' good man ' me. I'm the pleeceman, and I want to knoAV where you're a-goin' to." " Well, I'm just iioav going to the Rectory."

" Ha, that's a good joke, that is. It's likely, isn't it, that a genelman goin' to' the Rectory would ride without a light to- the common danger ? " /'Well, but I say I am going there," said the Bishop, indignantly, for he was annoyed at the man's insolence. . .. •

" That may be. But you ain't a-goin' to run down Government officers and representatives of the laAV and not suffer for it,' I can tell yer. I Avant your name and address."

Now this was Avhat of all things the Bishop wished to avoid. It would be most humiliating to give occasion to this prating fool, to gossip up and down the place, and to enforce the law against him, as he most assuredly would., ,if only to gratify his resentment. Plainly the only thing to be done was to press on to the Rectory and trust to Mr Yorke to get him out of the mess.

"You had better come with me to the Rectory," he sajd, with a wave of the hand almost in his wonted grand episcopal, manne'i. .- - - ."Oh, I ain't a-goin' to lose sight of yer, I can tell yer.". The reply was uttered, in tones such as did not often assail his lordship's ears. He hurried up "the hill^ the' policeman by his side. Silently; they pressed on until

the Rectory , was reached. The Bishop passed through the swing gate, up the carriage drive, the policeman closely following him. He rang. While he was waiting the altercation began afresh. The policeman, when he found that the unknown cyclist was really a visitor to the Rectory, would have modified his attitude, but he was annoyed, and shaken, and generally agitated, and Ms wounded self-love — stung by the Bishop's demeanour — would not let him be quiet. The noise of the voices at the door attracted the attention of Mrs Yorke, who was passing through* the hall, and, going to the door, she at once observed, with a woman's instinct, that the Bishop was somehow in the wrong, and that the policeman was irate with offended -dignity. In a moment she noticed that the bicycle was without a lamp, and at once jumped to the right conclusion. She did not ask for any explanations, or give his loidship away by an elaborate greeting ; she simply stepped outside, took hold of the bicycle, motioned to the manservant to take the Bishop into the house, and proceeded to tackle the policeman forthwith. "Well, 'Jarvis, what's the'matter?" . "That genelman has been ridin' without a light, to the common danger, and knocked me down at the foot of Mantle's Hill." "Knocked you down?" "Yes, m : m. . And ."it's my duty to prosecute him for ridin' without a light to the common danger." , , "'Well, come, in, Jarvis; it's quite cool enough standing out here. What is it you want of my friend"'" "Well, mm, I want his> name and address," answered "the policeman, following Mrs Yorke awkwardly into the hall. "Come in and sit down and rest yourself aftei your unfortunate accident. You'll have a glass of wine, just to settle your neives a bit, won't you?" s The wine was brought, and Mrs Yorke poured him out a glass. "The genelman didn't say as he wa.s a friend o" yours, mm," said' the policeman, betAveen his sips. "You are riot hurt, I hope, Jarvis?" asked Mrs Yorke, with her most winning smile, taking no notice of his remark. "You don't look like a delicate man." "Me delicate, mm ! Not a bit !" "I'm jjlad of that. Do have another glass." "Thankee, mm. Me delicate ! Why, I never have had no aches .or pains all my born days." "You strong men ought to be thankful. Now look at your good wife. I'm afraid .she isn't very strong. By the bye, I wonder if she has any use just now for a nice warm flannel petticoat? lam coming to see her soon, you know." ' "Any use. mm?" The blunt rustic laughed with a loud guffaw., "I suppose she makes the same use that most do of such an article."' "Well, L've laid one aside for her I mean ' to bring ; and you mustn't tell her you've been knocked over, or you'll frighten ; her. .And you mustn't let .the -village know, or they'll be laughing at you, and you'll never hear the last of it, lam quite sure. You'"c new to the neighbourhood, you know, and it would never "do to give people the chance of laughing at you. A.s for my friend, in whose way you were so unfortunate as to put yourself, I am sure he's very sorry — for your sake as well as his own. Of course, when you see my friend . again you'll see " 'I shouldn't know him again, mm. It was so dark, and I didn't get a fair look at him. But I should know 'his voice." ' Ah, well, he's only here for a night, as we've got the Bishop staying with us. I've no doubt he will make you a little present — if you will call some time to-mor-row afternoon — to compensate you for the trouble and annoyance that you have suffered." "Oh, I'm all right now, mm; only it is a bit rilin' to be bowled over in the dark, anyhow." "You will come, do you see? And the matter may as well end there, then noody need have the laugh of you. Good-night, Jarvis-". Don't forget to-morrow afternoon." Before he knew where he was Jarvis found himself outside the Rectory in a thoroughly confused state of mind. After a time, however, two things emerged clearly from the muddle — one that he was to go to the Rectory the next afternoon ; the other, that in the meanwhile he had better hold his tongue. Mrs Yorke found the Bishop alone in the drawing room immediately afterward. After a word of apology for her husband's absence — he had been sent for urgently in the parish — she congratulated his lordship on having escaped serious injury. She only hoped he was not in the least upset by what Avas, — or might prove to be— i most tiresome thing to have happened. She saw that he Avas painfully nervous about the possibility of being summoned, and forced into the ridiculous position of having .to defend the charge of riding without" a lamp \md 'running 'over a policeman. It did not require a long stretch of the Bishop's imagination to see his whole diocese in a _fever_ oL excitement. The serious" Dissenter would hold him up as the embodiment of antinomianism ; the pedestrian, with anti-cyclist prejudices, would rage against the folly and danger of the practice of cycling, and point to him as the awful example ; many people would declaim anew against the idea of a Bishop cycling at all; the scoffer would smile with wicked enjoyment of the whole business ; and, finally, the clergy might begin to excuse themselves for lawlessness in one direction by sheltering themselves- behind the Bishop's own example in another. At all costs the affair must be hushed up. It was not at all a part of Mrs Yorke's plan to allow his lordship to imagine that, because she had interviewed the policeman, the affair was now practically settled. She hinted at the possibility of settlement and concealment,, but plainly let him see that this happy consummation lay entirely with her. He was in her hands ; his reputation for the time depended upon her tact and success. This she made him fully understand. She told him "that she had partly, mollified the man, who wag»_shg_

\ said, a rancorous and bigoted Baptist. Shfc did not think it worbh while,' at present,, , at least, to let the Bishop knoAV tnat tkej man Avas new to the place, and altogether ! ignorant of his lordship's appearance. "But I do hope, my dear .Bishop, you,' will dismiss the unfortunate contretemps | from your mind. The man is coming"' ' again. He seems .determined to proceed !to extremities. Still I have my hopes of ; being able tc — sr — square him, so to speak. At any rate I have, managed to get rid o\ him until to-morrow afternoon, Avhen yotf Avill be gone ; unless indeed Are can peiv i suade you to stay longer?" j "Oh, thank you so much, Mrs Yorke,, ; bjat.that is impossible." The Bishop had t already made up his mind {o hurry back jto St. Hilary „by ■ the first practicable morning train, and leaA r e the scene of his ! unlucky collision — "that is impossible. | But if you can anyhoAy arrange this Avithi out — sr — any of that odious' publicity of \ summonses and magistrates' courts, and—- \ cr — the rest of it, I shall be — Avell, I can't tell you lioav grateful. Don't you think, I by. the Avay, that the man Avould be amenable to — 21 — a little persuasion — cr — of a, practical kind?". ' • } j "Bribery?"' . • : i Mrs Yorke looked horror-stricken. His lordship Avinced. . ' "All I mean is. I should "lite !o' rom> , pen&ate the man in some nic.u-i'i 1.-'1 .-' foi running him doAVii, don't you Ich-im "' ' I "Oh, leave the matter entircl-; to me ! I think you'll agree Avith me tnat the less you appear in the 'affair the bettor. Noav let us not say anothei Avord about it Th« 1 incident is closed, as chey say in politics." ! The Bishop got Arell and safely through ■ his duties of the evening, and sat up quite late — for him — talking to his charming hostess. He Avas conscious of the curious link AA'hich bound them together. He i felt that she Avas possessed of this damag- | ing knoAvledge of his indiscretion, and that it lay Avith her to extricate ' him from a position at' once menacing and ridiculous. ! He felt impelled to talk to her, to interest I her, to assure himself of hei .sympathy, and | of her sincere intention to do her utmost 'to hush up the unfortunate anair. Mrs Yorke saAv quite through all this, and determined to turn it to her advantage. Hoavever, she made no further allusion that evening to the bicycle accident. She contented herself Avith hinting adroitly at her husband's deep practical concern for the success of every good Avork Avithin the diocese, his attachment to the cathedral, his keen interest in his lordship's fund for the restoration of the fabric, ■ and above all his personal deA'otion to his lordship himself. And so the evening ended. When the Bishop came doAvn to breaki fast next morning he found Mrs Yorke al- ; ready up. She Avas standing before a i cheerful, blazing fire, arrayed in the niosfc I seductive of morning ■ goAvns, warming her delicate toes and reading her letters. . "Good morning, Mrs Yorke ! Reading your letters?' I- often sigh for the days : when it Avas a joy- to get letters. Noav they are my despair,'." | They shook hands. ' "Good morning, my dear Bishop!" said I Mrs Yorke in her turn. * "I am afraid ■ that even in rural Welthaby you are still i pestered Avith tiresome letters. I see ■ there are tAvo or three for you." | "May I?" said his lordship, taking then, | in his hand, and opening them one after i another. j Mrs Yorke Avent on reading. Presently I the Bishop put his letters doAA m Avith a ! sigh. [ "I hope you feel rested. None the Avorse ; for the accident of last evening," said Mrs I Yorke, Avith a Avinning smile. | "Thank you, not at all. lam 'only I perhaps a little anxious "' "Anxious? Anxious about Avhat?" '"About that unfortunate encounter with — sr — the policeman." Mrs Yorke at once assumed a grave expression. "Do you think, Mrs Yorke, he will be so inveterate as to proceed to extreme j meastires?" I "As to that you may rest quite cerlain ! that I Avill do my best "with the cantanker- | ous felloAV. And I think I knoAV how I to manage him." < Mrs Yorke smiled again. That smile seemed to give the Bishop more confidence than anything else. "You can't" think- lioav grateful — — " . . "Come, here's breakfast !" interrupted Misi Yorke. "Would you like to sit here by j the fire, or on the opposite side?" | "Oh, Til sit here, thank you, as I happen to be this side. But where is Mr Yorke?" ' • "Poor Cyril -is a little out- of sorts this morning. lam afraid he has a cold."^ "I trust it is not that horrid influenza?" "I hope not. The fact -is he caught a chill at • the funeral of deal old ' Canon Jacobs." "Oh, don't say that !"' "I am afraid it is so. But he felt lift must go to the ■ funeral of that dear ol t ! m-ia." "You are right, _Mrs,, Yorke ; he Avas a dear old "man." ~ *" "*" "'So Cyril always spoke of him. ' Whoever succeeds tp" Canon Jacobs's stall in the cathedral — supposing, for instance, the Bishop should by any chance select me ' — I am quoting my husband's Avords on his re- ' turn from the funeral — ' supposing,' he' said, i ' I Avas ever to be made an honorary canon.. I could only hope and pray that I might proA"e as useful to my diocesan as pool old Jacobs was. ' " There 'Avas a little pause, during Avhich Mrs Yorke amused herself cracking an eggShe Avas now speaking very deliberately, picking off the pieces of broken eggshell as she spoke. "I told Cyril that he Avas a little — er— previous— that it Avas rather premature to indulge in such speculations until he was in a position to do some real and marked 1 sei'A-ice Avhich could constitute — I don't like to repeat the Avord, but Avhat I did_ saA r Aras 'a moral claim' to such a distinction,"The Bishop Avas silent. Mrs orke Avent on sloAvly, Avith her head bent OA'er her egg. "Of course, he understands a.s Avell as I do that such a pre-j ferment is intended to be a recompense,; o^j rather recognition, for" — she paused, and^ looking the Rishon fall In the_!fac£»_ fioita-

binued— <c f6J' services rendered." I Indeed/ I told Him so. ' But— have another "kidney, •won't you? Or an egg? No? lam seriously afraid we have destroyed your appetite." "No ; indeed, I have done very well." When the Bishop's time came for leavang he suggested packing the machine on the top of Mrs Yorke's carriage, in which !he drove to the station, that it might go hj the same train. Mrs Yorke, for ob,vious reasons, opposed this. She could not allow the Bishop' to be troubled with 'such luggage ; it should be sent on later •to the palace. The Bishop was not slow xo acquiesce. "Good-bye, Mrs Yorke," were his parting words. "Thank you so much for all your kindness 1 T shall be very anxious to tear if you succeed in arranging that little affair for me, and be assured of my real mid sincere gratitude." ! Mrs Yorke smiled her sweetest, and, looking straight into his eyes, replied : "t shall only be too anxious to render you what, after all, is really .such a very slight service. I will do my best." The Bishop drove off. He was impresed with Mrs Yorke's manner, and understood her meaning. "A capable woman !" he said to himself, as he rode along. "Certainly. Why not? Yorke is a man oT means, a- safe man, no Ritualist, not too 'Intellectual ; a good fellow, with an excellent reputation. for charity- Clearly just vhe kind of man -to promote. Now I come to -think of it, I can't understand how I Shave passed him over so long. Why not -Uvrite - and offer the honorary canonry to ihim at once, or,' better sfcill, telegraph the offer? All things considered, the sooner une does the right thing the better. And it is the right thing. Yorke deserves it."' The telegram reached the Rectory about 1 o'clock. " Mrs Yorke smiled as she read :t. Her dull, good-natured husband little knew what made her smile so sweetly into the air. A half-sovereign was the solatium that Mrs Yorke generously gave Policeman Jar,vis. 'He would not mind being knocked over every evening," he said, "at that price, if it could all be done on the quiet !" Most of the diocesan clergy were loud in proclaiming the eminent fitness of the new canon for his pieferment, and congratulated him upon it ; at the same time inwardly Wondering what on earth the Bishop could Snd in ''that noodle Yorke to select him for chat distinction."