ction, an eidolon in perfect
clerical apparel, without any rusty suggestions of a Perpetual Curacy.
Yet a Perpetual Curacy it was which was his sole benefice or hope in his
present circumstances, for he knew very well that, were all other
objections at an end, neither Skelmersdale nor Wentworth could be kept
open for him; and that beyond these two he had not a hope of
advancement--and at the same time he was pledged to remain in
Carlingford. All this, however, though discouraging enough, did not
succeed in discouraging Mr Wentworth after he had read Lucy's letter. He
went down-stairs so lightly that Mrs Hadwin, who was waiting in the
parlour in her best cap, to ask if he would pardon her for making such a
mistake, did not hear him pass, and sat waiting for an hour, forgetting,
or rather neglecting to give any response, when the butcher came for
orders--which was an unprecedented accident. Mr Wentworth went
cheerfully up Grange Lane, meeting, by a singular chance, ever so many
people, who stopped to shake hands with him, or at least bowed their
good wishes and friendly acknowledgments. He smiled in himself at these
evidences of popular penitence, but was not the less pleased to find
himself reinstated in his place in the affections and respect of
Carlingford. "After all, it was not an unnatural mistake," he said to
himself, and smiled benignly upon the excellent people who had found out
the error of their own ways. Carlingford, indeed, seemed altogether in a
more cheerful state than usual, and Mr Wentworth could not but think
that the community in general was glad to find that it had been
deceived, and so went upon his way, pleasing himself with those maxims
about the ultimate prevalence of justice and truth, which make it
apparent that goodness is always victorious, and wickedness punished, in
the end. Somehow even a popular fallacy has an aspect of truth when it
suits one's own case. The Perpetual Curate went through his aunts'
garden with a conscious smile, feeling once more master of himself and
his concerns. There was, to tell the truth, even a slight shade of
self-content and approbation upon his handsome countenance. In the
present changed state of public opinion and private feeling, he began to
take some pleasure in his sacrifice. To be sure, a Perpetual Curate
could not marry; but perhaps Lucy--in short, there was no telling what
might happen; and it was accordingly with that delicious sense of
goodness which gen