Sunday was a day crowded with incident. Mr. Carey was accustomed to say
that he was the only man in his parish who worked seven days a week.
The household got up half an hour earlier than usual. No lying abed for a
poor parson on the day of rest, Mr. Carey remarked as Mary Ann knocked at
the door punctually at eight. It took Mrs. Carey longer to dress, and she
got down to breakfast at nine, a little breathless, only just before her
husband. Mr. Carey's boots stood in front of the fire to warm. Prayers
were longer than usual, and the breakfast more substantial. After
breakfast the Vicar cut thin slices of bread for the communion, and Philip
was privileged to cut off the crust. He was sent to the study to fetch a
marble paperweight, with which Mr. Carey pressed the bread till it was
thin and pulpy, and then it was cut into small squares. The amount was
regulated by the weather. On a very bad day few people came to church, and
on a very fine one, though many came, few stayed for communion. There were
most when it was dry enough to make the walk to church pleasant, but not
so fine that people wanted to hurry away.
Then Mrs. Carey brought the communion plate out of the safe, which stood
in the pantry, and the Vicar polished it with a chamois leather. At ten
the fly drove up, and Mr. Carey got into his boots. Mrs. Carey took
several minutes to put on her bonnet, during which the Vicar, in a
voluminous cloak, stood in the hall with just such an expression on his
face as would have become an early Christian about to be led into the
arena. It was extraordinary that after thirty years of marriage his wife
could not be ready in time on Sunday morning. At last she came, in black
satin; the Vicar did not like colours in a clergyman's wife at any time,
but on Sundays he was determined that she should wear black; now and then,
in conspiracy with Miss Graves, she ventured a white feather or a pink
rose in her bonnet, but the Vicar insisted that it should disappear; he
said he would not go to church with the scarlet woman: Mrs. Carey sighed
as a woman but obeyed as a wife. They were about to step into the carriage
when the Vicar remembered that no one had given him his egg. They knew
that he must have an egg for his voice, there were two women in the house,
and no one had the least regard for his comfort. Mrs. Carey scolded Mary
Ann, and Mary Ann answered that she could not think of everything. She
hurried away to fetch an egg, and Mrs. Carey beat it up in a glass of
sherry. The Vicar swallowed it at a gulp. The communion plate was stowed
in the carriage, and they set off.
The fly came from The Red Lion and had a peculiar smell of stale straw.
They drove with both windows closed so that the Vicar should not catch
cold. The sexton was waiting at the porch to take the communion plate, and
while the Vicar went to the vestry Mrs. Carey and Philip settled
themselves in the vicarage pew. Mrs. Carey placed in front of her the
sixpenny bit she was accustomed to put in the plate, and gave Philip
threepence for the same purpose. The church filled up gradually and the
service began.
Philip grew bored during the sermon, but if he fidgetted Mrs. Carey put a
gentle hand on his arm and looked at him reproachfully. He regained
interest when the final hymn was sung and Mr.Graves passed round with the
plate.
When everyone had gone Mrs. Carey went into Miss Graves' pew to have a few
words with her while they were waiting for the gentlemen, and Philip went
to the vestry. His uncle, the curate, and Mr. Graves were still in their
surplices. Mr. Carey gave him the remains of the consecrated bread and
told him he might eat it. He had been accustomed to eat it himself, as it
seemed blasphemous to throw it away, but Philip's keen appetite relieved
him from the duty. Then they counted the money. It consisted of pennies,
sixpences and threepenny bits. There were always two single shillings, one
put in the plate by the Vicar and the other by Mr. Graves; and sometimes
there was a florin. Mr. Graves told the Vicar who had given this. It was
always a stranger to Blackstable, and Mr. Carey wondered who he was. But
Miss Graves had observed the rash act and was able to tell Mrs. Carey that
the stranger came from London, was married and had children. During the
drive home Mrs. Carey passed the information on, and the Vicar made up his
mind to call on him and ask for a subscription to the Additional Curates
Society. Mr. Carey asked if Philip had behaved properly; and Mrs. Carey
remarked that Mrs. Wigram had a new mantle, Mr. Cox was not in church, and
somebody thought that Miss Phillips was engaged. When they reached the
vicarage they all felt that they deserved a substantial dinner.
When this was over Mrs. Carey went to her room to rest, and Mr. Carey lay
down on the sofa in the drawing-room for forty winks.
They had tea at five, and the Vicar ate an egg to support himself for
evensong. Mrs. Carey did not go to this so that Mary Ann might, but she
read the service through and the hymns. Mr. Carey walked to church in the
evening, and Philip limped along by his side. The walk through the
darkness along the country road strangely impressed him, and the church
with all its lights in the distance, coming gradually nearer, seemed very
friendly. At first he was shy with his uncle, but little by little grew
used to him, and he would slip his hand in his uncle's and walk more
easily for the feeling of protection.
They had supper when they got home. Mr. Carey's slippers were waiting for
him on a footstool in front of the fire and by their side Philip's, one
the shoe of a small boy, the other misshapen and odd. He was dreadfully
tired when he went up to bed, and he did not resist when Mary Ann
undressed him. She kissed him after she tucked him up, and he began to
love her.
Read next: CHAPTER VIII
Read previous: CHAPTER VI
Table of content of Of Human Bondage
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
Post your reviewYour review will be placed after the table of content of this book
