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Mark Rutherford

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.

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Pages from a Journal with Other Papers from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.

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