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Updated: August 31, 2025
For one example, "The Warden" is a relatively short piece of fiction which opens the famous Chronicles of Barset series. Its interest culminates in the going of the Reverend Septimus Harding to London from his quiet country home, in order to prevent a young couple from marrying. The whole situation is tiny, a mere corner flurry.
Septimus explained that as a Master of Arts of the University of Cambridge he had a right to play marbles on the Senate House steps, a privilege denied by statute to persons in statu pupillari, but that he would be locked up as a lunatic if he insisted on exercising it. After a pause Emmy looked at him, and said with sudden tragicality: "I'm not a horrible, hateful worry to you, Septimus?"
Emmy, a new Ophelia, was about to seek a watery grave for herself and her love sorrow. Again came the problem which in moments of emergency Septimus had never learned to solve. What should he do? Across the agony of his mind shot a feeling of horrible indelicacy in thrusting himself upon a woman at such a moment. He was half tempted to turn back and leave her to the sanctity of her grief.
"Yes he will," Warde answers savagely. "He has!" screamed the Rev. Septimus. "He has!" Pandemonium broke loose. Grey-headed men threw their hats into the air; M.P.'s danced; lovely women shrieked; every Harrovian on the ground howled. For Caesar held the ball fast in his lean brown hands. The Eton captain walks slowly towards the pavilion.
"Please excuse me," he gurgled, "but I can't help it when I remember the awful solemnity of that article of yours that you so kindly read us last night, on the Coptic Church in its relation to early Christian worship." Septimus groaned.
Even his fellow-priest stared in bewilderment at Septimus May's extraordinary opinions, while to the physician this was the chatter of a lunatic. "I will take my Bible into that haunted room to-night," concluded the clergyman, "and I will pray to God, Who sits above both quick and dead, to protect me, guide me, and lead me to my duty." Sir Walter spoke.
But Jane ran to the curate and embraced him so suddenly that he had not time to defend himself. 'You're a dear, she said. 'It IS like a dream just at first, but you get used to it. Now DO let us go. There's a good, kind, honourable clergyman. 'I don't know, said the Reverend Septimus; 'it's a difficult problem. It is such a very unusual dream.
He took me along to see it, and introduced me to Madame, his mother. He has also got an aunt who can cook." "I should like to have seen you talking to the Zouave," said Emmy. "It would have made a pretty picture the two of you hobnobbing over a little marble table." "It was iron, painted yellow," said Septimus. "It wasn't a resplendent café." "I wonder what he thought of you."
Sextus might have done well, for he became clerk to Johnny Tranter the attorney; but he was of an enterprising turn, and he shifted the whole business, papers, cash, and all to the Lowlands, to the no small inconvenience of his employer, who hath never been able to lay hands either on one or the other from that day to this. Septimus died young.
What was to become of him afterwards neither conjectured; least of all Septimus himself. He said nothing about getting back to Shepherd's Bush. Many brilliant ideas had occurred to him during his absence which needed careful working out. Wherefore Zora concluded that he proposed to accompany her to London.
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