Mrs. Bingham was of the same mind. She dwelt
much to herself on the fact that Mrs. Midleton’s
great-grandfather must have been a lord. She
secretly hoped that as a wine merchant’s wife
she might obtain admission into a “sphere,”
as she called it, from which the other ladies in the
town might be excluded. Mrs. Bingham already
foretasted the bliss of an invitation to the rectory
to meet Lady Caroline from Thaxton Manor; she already
foretasted the greater bliss of not meeting her intimate
friends there, and that most exquisite conceivable
bliss of telling them afterwards all about the party.
Mrs. Midleton and her husband returned on a Saturday
afternoon. The road from Thaxton cross-roads
did not lie through the town: the carriage was
closed and nobody saw her. When they came to
the rectory the Doctor pointed to the verse in white
paint on the wall, “It shall be taken out,”
he said, “before to-morrow morning: to-morrow
is Sunday.” He was expected to preach on
that day and the church was crammed a quarter of an
hour before the service began. At five minutes
to eleven a lady and child entered and walked to the
rector’s pew. The congregation was stupefied
with amazement. Mouths were agape, a hum of
exclamations arose, and people on the further side
of the church stood up.
It was Mrs. Fairfax! Nobody had conjectured
that she and Mrs. Leighton were the same person.
It was unimaginable that a dressmaker should have
had near ancestors in the peerage. It was more
than a year and a half since she left the town.
Mrs. Carter was able to say that not a single letter
had been addressed to her, and she was almost forgotten.
A few days afterwards Mrs. Sweeting had a little note
requesting her to take tea with the Rector and his
wife. Nobody was asked to meet her. Mrs.
Bingham had called the day before, and had been extremely
apologetic.
“I am afraid, Mrs. Midleton, you must have thought
me sometimes very rude to you.”
To which Mrs. Midleton replied graciously, “I
am sure if you had been it would have been quite excusable.”
“Extremely kind of you to say so, Mrs. Midleton.”
Mrs. Cobb also called. “I’ll just
let her see,” said Mrs. Cobb to herself; and
she put on a gown which Mrs. Midleton as Mrs. Fairfax
had made for her.
“You’ll remember this gown, Mrs. Midleton?”
“Perfectly well. It is not quite a fit
on the shoulders. If you will let me have it
back again it will give me great pleasure to alter
it for you.”
By degrees, however, Mrs. Midleton came to be loved
by many people in Langborough. Mr. Sweeting
not long afterwards died in debt, and Mrs. Sweeting,
the old housekeeper being also dead, was taken into
the rectory as her successor, and became Mrs. Midleton’s
trusted friend.
Footnotes:
Copyrights
Pages from a Journal with Other Papers from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.