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Updated: June 26, 2025
Catherine and the child he had driven away more than once, but the claims upon himself were becoming so absorbing, he did not know how to go even for a few weeks. There were certain individuals in particular who depended on him from day to day. One was Charles Richards' widow. The poor desperate creature had put herself abjectly into Elsmere's hands.
For some time notwithstanding, he avoided an open breach with the rector. He met Elsmere's remonstrances by a more or less civil show of argument, belied every now and then by the sarcasm of his coarse blue eye, and so far the two men had kept outwardly on terms. Elsmere had reason to know that on one or two occasions of difficulty in the parish Henslowe had tried to do him a mischief.
Wilfrid's passed them with cold averted eyes; the old and fainéant rector of the parish church very soon let it be known what he thought as to the taste of Elsmere's intrusion on his parish, or as to the eternal chances of those who might take either him or Edwardes as guides in matters religious.
One event bears many readings, and the tragedy of Catherine Elsmere's life took shape in the uneasy consciousness of the Vicar's spouse as a more or less sharp admonition against wilfulness in match-making. Of course Rose had her way as to wintering in London.
He was a High Churchman of a singularly gentle and delicate type, and the manner in which he had received Elsmere's story on the day of his arrival at Murewell had permanently endeared him to the teller of it.
Fortune had handed over the parish of Harden to a ritualist vicar. Mrs. Elsmere's inherited Evangelicalism she came from an Ulster county rebelled against his doctrine, but the man himself was too lovable to be disliked. Mrs. Elsmere knew a hero when she saw him. And in his own narrow way, the small-headed emaciated vicar was a hero, and he and Mrs.
Inevitably such a nature as Elsmere's turns very quickly from despair to hope; from the sense of failure to the passionate planning of new effort. In time will he not be able to comfort her, and, after a miserable moment of transition, to repair her trust in him and make their common life once more rich towards God and man? There must be painful readjustment and friction, no doubt.
But they were hidden deep in Elsmere's memory. A few days afterwards he was casually told that Madame de Netteville had left England for some time. As a matter of fact he never set eyes on her again. After a while the extravagance of his self-blame abated. He saw things as they were without morbidness. But a certain boyish carelessness of mood he never afterwards quite recovered.
The cassocked monk-like clergy might preach and 'process' in the open air as much as they pleased. The populace, where it was not indifferent, was friendly, and devoted living had borne its natural fruits. A small incident, which need not be recorded, recalled to Elsmere's mind after he had been working some six weeks in the district the forgotten unwelcome fact that St.
He had found a great piquancy in this shaping of a mind more intellectually eager and pliant than any he had yet come across among younger men; perpetual food too, for his sense of irony, in the intellectual contradictions, wherein Elsmere's developing ideas and information were now, according to the squire, involving him at every turn.
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