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Bingham, the wife of the wine merchant, should call on Mrs. Fairfax and inquire the price of a gown. Mrs. Bingham was at the head of society in Langborough, and had the reputation of being very clever. It was hoped, and indeed fully expected, that she would be able to penetrate the mystery. She went, opened the door, a little bell sounded, and Mrs. Fairfax presented herself. Mrs.
"Thank you: I must not be so extravagant at present. May I look at something which will do for walking? You would not, I suppose, make a walking-dress for Langborough exactly as you would have made it in London?" "If you mean for walking about the roads here, it would differ slightly from one which would be suitable for London." "Will you show me what you have usually made for town?"
Swanley to this newcomer, but we must consider Miss Tarrant's position in the parish and her responsibilities. She is no doubt right from her point of view." So the conversation ended, but Mrs. Fairfax's biography, which was to be published under authority in Langborough, was now rounded off and complete.
It is often easier to do what we are obliged to do, even if it be disagreeable, than to choose our path by our likes and dislikes." The bell rang, and Mrs. Fairfax went into the shop. "Who can she be?" said the Doctor to himself. Such an experience as this he had not known since he had been rector. Langborough did not deal in ideas.
Fairfax was the substratum of a body and skirt, with the inestimable advantage over a substratum of cane and padding that a scandalous history of it could be invented and believed. To Langborough men, married and single, she was a member of "the sex," as women were called in those days, who possessed in a remarkable degree the power of exciting that quivering and warmth we have already observed.
On Monday Langborough was amazed to find Mrs. Fairfax's shop closed. She had left the town. She had taken a post-chaise on Saturday and had met the up-mail at Thaxton cross-roads. Her scanty furniture had disappeared. The carrier could but inform Langborough that he had orders to deliver her goods at Great Ormond Street whence he brought them. Mrs.
Nobody wanted further proof. No Langborough lady needed any proof if a reputation was to be blasted. "It's an alibi," said Mrs. Harrop. "That's what Tom Cranch the poacher did, and he was hung." "An alias, I believe, is the correct term," said Miss Tarrant.
Sweeting, to suppose I should condescend to notice this contemptible stuff or alter my course to please all Langborough. Why did you take the trouble to report it to me?" "Because, sir, I wouldn't for the world you should think I was mixed up with them; and if my husband doesn't vote for you my name isn't Sweeting." "I am much obliged to you.
He had obtained high mathematical honours at Cambridge, and became a tutor in a grammar school, but was soon presented by his college with the living of Langborough. He was tall, spare, clean- shaven, grey-eyed, dark-haired, thin-faced, his lips were curved and compressed, and he stooped slightly.
The Doctor prolonged his stroll and reached home about half-past eleven. A third of his life had been spent in Langborough. He remembered the day he came and the unpacking of his books. They lined the walls of his room, some of them rare, all of them his friends. Nobody in Langborough had ever asked him to lend a single volume.
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