The Argosy — page 24: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Village Blacksmith. II ‘“ A curate! My dearest Poppy, you have taken me by storm. I must consider the matter. A curate—well, yes, I don’t know that there is any objection to a curate—there is plenty todo; but Mr. Hastings—I fear his views would preclude his entering into any ' engagement with me ; they are so very extreme.” “Teave that tome. J’ll take care he is prudent. He will be so very useful; he is a gentleman by birth and very well off. He can ride with Vera, and take the early services, and wear those pretty stoles you object to so much, you dear old-fashioned thing,” said Mrs. Ryot-Tempest, who, having obtained what she had been desiring for some time, was now all smiles and amiability. ‘He must clearly understand that I can’t allow any high sacra- mental teaching ; in fact, no doctrinal teaching at all. It is so much safer to avoid dogma.” ‘My dear, don’t let him preach at all, that will be the best way,” said Mrs. Ryot-Tempest, knowing that Mr. Hastings could never be trusted to avoid airing his opinions if once he were in the pulpit. And those opinions would have made his future Rector’s hair stand on end ; for even his patroness privately considered he went too far, as she expressed it: though how it is possible to go too far in the right direction—and she considered Mr. Hastings on the road to truth— she did not stop to inquire. Mr. Hastings was the curate Vera had met at dinner at Mrs. Jamieson’s, whose views on the celibacy of the clergy were modified by her charms, and Mrs. Ryot-Tempest had a twofold object in getting him to Woodford. First and foremost she had decided he should marry Vera; secondly, he could do all Mr. Ryot-Tempest objected to doing in the church and parish. “‘ Vera,” said Mrs, Ryot-Tempest the next morning, ‘‘I have such a piece of news for you. You remember that Mr. Hastings you met at my house ; he is coming here almost immediately as your father’s curate. So you will be able to ride out as often as you like, for Iam sure he will be only too glad to escort you. And we shall be able to have such nice services. He will wear all those pretty stoles I showed you, and use the eastward position—your father must let him do that—and work the parish up. MHaven’t I done well ?” “Yes, if only he gets on with papa. I don’t care a scrap what he wears or where he stands in church—on his head if he likes; but I shall be delighted to have someone to ride with me.” ‘I believe, Vera, you are even more Protestant than your father. How could you ever have thought of marrying a Romanist with your views?” ‘‘] shall never marry anyone else; but I really can’t see what coloured stoles and short surplices and all such man-millinery have to do with it. They don’t seem to me to touch the real question at all. I can’t take any interest in such things.——But look at my father! He looks as if he had seen a ghost,” said Vera, rising from COnicaao (S©) An