d mother might
not glide away out of life without that last gleam of sunshine long
intended for her by her grateful son?

This scene, accordingly, was almost the only one which reconciled him
to the extraordinary change in his life. There she sat, the lively old
lady; very deaf, as you could almost divine by that vivid inquiring
twinkle in her eyes; feeble too, for she had a silver-headed cane beside
her chair, and even with that assistance seldom moved across the room
when she could help it. Feeble in body, but alert in mind, ready to read
anything, to hear anything, to deliver her opinions freely; resting in
her big chair in the complete repose of age, gratified with her son's
attentions, and over-joyed in his company; interested about everything,
and as ready to enter into all the domestic concerns of the new people
as if she had lived all her life among them. The Rector sighed and
smiled as he listened to his mother's questions, and did his best, at
the top of his voice, to enlighten her. His mother was, let us say, a
hundred years or so younger than the Rector. If she had been his bride,
and at the blithe commencement of life, she could not have shown more
inclination to know all about Carlingford. Mr Proctor was middle-aged,
and preoccupied by right of his years; but his mother had long ago got
over that stage of life. She was at that point when some energetic
natures, having got to the bottom of the hill, seem to make a fresh
start and reascend. Five years ago, old Mrs Proctor had completed the
human term; now she had recommenced her life.

But, to tell the very truth, the Rector would very fain, had that been
possible, have confined her inquiries to books and public affairs. For
to make confidential disclosures, either concerning one's self or other
people, in a tone of voice perfectly audible in the kitchen, is somewhat
trying. He had become acquainted with those dread parishioners of
his during this interval. Already they had worn him to death with
dinner-parties--dinner-parties very pleasant and friendly, when one got
used to them; but to a stranger frightful reproductions of each other,
with the same dishes, the same dresses, the same stories, in which the
Rector communicated gravely with his next neighbour, and eluded as long
as he could those concluding moments in the drawing-room which were worst
of all. It cannot be said that his parishioners made much progress in
their knowledge of the Rector. What his