“I do not wish that, Stukely. I am indebted to you for the candour with which you have spoken, and the proper view which you take of your position. I wish to hear of you, and to serve you—and I will do it. I agree with you, that you must leave us now—yes, and at once; and, as you say, without another interview. But I will not turn you into the world, lad, without some provision for the present, and good hopes for the future. I owe you much. Yes—very much. When I consider how differently you might behave, how very seriously you might interfere with my happiness”—as Mr. Fairman spoke, he opened the drawer of a table, and drew a checque-book from it—“I feel that you ought not to be a loser by your honesty. I do not offer you this as a reward for that honesty—far from it—I would only indemnify you—and this is my duty.”
Mr. Fairman placed a draft for a hundred pounds in my hand.
“Pardon me, sir,” said I, replacing it on his table. “I can take no money. Millions could not indemnify me for all that I resign. Judge charitably, and think kindly of me, sir—and I am paid. Honour is priceless.”
“Well, but when you get to London?”—
“I am not altogether friendless. My salary is yet untouched, and will supply my wants until I find employment.”
“Which you shall not be long without, believe me, Stukely, if I have power to get it you—and I think I have. You will tell me where I may address my letters. I will not desert you. You shall not repent this.”
“I do not, sir; and I believe I never shall. I propose to leave the parsonage to-night, sir.”
“No, to-morrow, we must have some talk. You need not see her. I could not let you go to-night. You shall depart to-morrow, and I rely upon your good sense and honourable feelings to avoid another meeting. It could only increase the mischief that has already taken place, and answer no good purpose. You must be aware of this.”
“I am, sir. You shall have no reason to complain.”
“I am sure of it, Stukely. You had better see about your preparations. John will help you in any way you wish. Make use of him. There must be many little things to do. There can be no impropriety, Stukely, in your accepting the whole of your year’s salary. You are entitled to that. I am sorry to lose you—very—but there’s no help for it. I will come to your room this evening, and have some further conversation. Leave me now.” The incumbent was evidently much excited. Love for his child, and apprehension for her safety, were feelings that were, perhaps, too prominent and apparent in the good and faithful minister of heaven; they betrayed him at times into a self-forgetfulness, and a warmth of expression, of which he repented heartily as soon as they occurred. Originally of a violent and wayward disposition, it had cost the continual exercise and the prayers of a life, to acquire evenness of temper and gentleness of deportment, neither of which, in truth, was easily, if ever disturbed, if not by the amiable infirmity above alluded to. He was the best of men; but to the best, immunity from the natural weakness of mortality is not to be vouchsafed.