The Perpetual Curate · Chapter 1 (2/2)

“It’s a great pity you have not something better to work upon,” said the dauntless Curate; “but it is difficult to conceive what can be done with such an unhallowed type of construction. I was just saying to Folgate⁠—”

“There is a great deal of cant abroad on this subject,” said Mr. Morgan, interrupting the young oracle. “I like good architecture, but I don’t relish attributing moral qualities to bricks and mortar. The hallowing influence ought to be within. Mr. Folgate, we were going to call at your office. Have you thought of the little suggestions I ventured to make? Oh, the drawings are here. Mr. Wentworth does not approve of them, I suppose?” said the Rector, turning sternly round upon the unlucky Curate of St. Roque’s.

“I can only say I sympathise with you profoundly,” said young Wentworth, with great seriousness. “Such a terrible church must be a great trial. I wish I had any advice worth offering; but it is my hour for a short service down at the canal, and I can’t keep my poor bargees waiting. Good morning. I hope you’ll come and give us your countenance, Mrs. Morgan. There’s no end of want and trouble at Wharfside.”

“Is Mr. Wentworth aware, I wonder, that Wharfside is in the parish of Carlingford?” said the Rector, with involuntary severity, as the young priest withdrew calmly to go to his “duty.” Mr. Folgate, who supposed himself to be addressed, smiled, and said, “Oh yes, of course,” and unfolded his drawings, to which the clerical pair before him lent a disturbed attention. They were both in a high state of indignation by this time. It seemed indispensable that something should be done to bring to his senses an intruder so perfectly composed and at his ease.