Our Friend the Charlatan | Page 7

from his
vicarage to freedom and semi-starvation, and deemed himself very

lucky indeed when at length he regained levitical harbourage.
These things had his daughter watched with her intent dark eyes;
Constance Bride did not feel kindly disposed towards the Church of
England as by law established. She had seen her mother sink under
penury and humiliation and all unmerited hardship; she had seen her
father changed from a vigorous, hopeful, kindly man to an embittered
pessimist. As for herself, sound health and a good endowment of brains
enabled her to make a way in the world. Luckily, she was a sole child:
her father managed to give her a decent education till she was old
enough to live by teaching. But teaching was not her vocation. Looking
round for possibilities, Constance hit upon the idea of studying
pharmaceutics and becoming a dispenser; wherein, with long, steady
effort, she at length succeeded. This project had already been shaped
whilst the Brides were at Alverholme; Mrs. Lashmar had since heard of
Constance as employed in the dispensary of a midland hospital.
"Hollingford?" remarked the vicar, as they walked on. "I think I
remember that you have relatives there."
"I was born there, and I have an old aunt still living in the town--she
keeps a little baker's shop."
Mr. Lashmar, though a philosopher, was not used to this bluntness of
revelation; it gave him a slight shock, evinced in a troublous rolling of
the eyes.
"Ha! yes!--I trust you will dine with us this evening, Miss Bride?"
"Thank you, I can't dine; I want to leave by an early evening train. But I
should like to see Mrs. Lashmar, if she is at home."
"She will be delighted. I must beg you to pardon me for leaving
you--an appointment at the schools; but I will get home as soon as
possible. Pray excuse me."
"Why, of course, Mr. Lashmar. I haven't forgotten the way to the
vicarage."
She pursued it, and in a few minutes rang the bell. Mrs. Lashmar was in
the dining-room, busy with a female parishioner whose self-will in the
treatment of infants' maladies had given the vicar's wife a great deal of
trouble.
"It's as plain as blessed daylight, mum," the woman was exclaiming,
"that this medicine don't agree with her."
"Mrs. Dibbs," broke in the other severely, "you will allow me to be a

better judge--what is it?"
The housemaid had opened the door to announce Miss Bride.
"Miss Bride?" echoed the lady in astonishment. "Very well; show her
into the drawing-room."
The visitor waited for nearly a quarter of an hour. She had placed
herself on one of the least comfortable chairs, and sat there in a very
stiff attitude, holding her umbrella across her knees. After a rather
nervous survey of the room, (it had changed very little in appearance
since her last visit six years ago), she fell into uneasy thoughtfulness,
now and then looking impatiently towards the door. When the hostess
at length appeared, she rose with deliberation, her lips just relaxed in a
half-smile.
"So it is really you!" exclaimed Mrs. Lashmar, in a voice of forced
welcome. "I thought you must have altogether forgotten us."
"It's the first time I have returned to Alverholme," replied the other, in a
contrasting tone of calmness.
"And what are you doing? Where are you living? Tell me all about
yourself. Are you still at the hospital? You did get a place at a hospital,
I think? We were told so."
Mrs. Lashmar's patronage was a little more patronizing than usual, her
condescension one or two degrees more condescending. She had
various reasons for regarding Constance Bride with disapproval, the
least of them that sense of natural antipathy which was inevitable
between two such women. In briefest sentences Miss Bride made
known that she had given up dispensing two years ago, and was now
acting as secretary to a baronet's widow.
"A baronet's widow?" repeated the hostess, with some emphasis of
candid surprise. "Row did you manage that? Who is she?"
"An old friend of my family," was the balanced reply. "Lady Ogram, of
Rivenoak, near Hollingford."
"Oh! Indeed! I wasn't aware--"
Mrs. Lashmar thought better of her inclination to be trenchantly rude,
and smoothed off into commonplaces. Presently the vicar entered, and
found his wife conversing with the visitor more amiably than he had
expected.
"You have seen Miss Bride already," said Mrs. Lashmar. "I am trying
to persuade her to stay over-night with us. Is it really impossible?"

Constance civilly but decidedly declined. Addressing herself to the
vicar, she spoke with more ease and friendliness than hitherto;
nevertheless, it was obvious that she counted the minutes dictated by
decency for the prolongation of her stay. Once or twice her look
wandered to a certain part