MY timidity and my obscurity occasioned me to live a secluded
life at college, and to be little known. No relative ever
came to visit me, for I had no relative. No intimate
friends broke in upon my studies, for I made no intimate
friends. I supported myself on my scholarship, and read
much. My college time was otherwise not so very different
from my time at Hoghton Towers.
Knowing myself to be unfit for the noisier stir of social
existence, but believing myself qualified to do my duty in a
moderate, though earnest way, if I could obtain some small
preferment in the Church, I applied my mind to the clerical
profession. In due sequence I took orders, was ordained,
and began to look about me for employment. I must observe
that I had taken a good degree, that I had succeeded in winning a
good fellowship, and that my means were ample for my retired way
of life. By this time I had read with several young men;
and the occupation increased my income, while it was highly
interesting to me. I once accidentally overheard our
greatest don say, to my boundless joy, ‘That he heard it
reported of Silverman that his gift of quiet explanation, his
patience, his amiable temper, and his conscientiousness made him
the best of coaches.’ May my ‘gift of quiet
explanation’ come more seasonably and powerfully to my aid
in this present explanation than I think it will!
It may be in a certain degree owing to the situation of my
college-rooms (in a corner where the daylight was sobered), but
it is in a much larger degree referable to the state of my own
mind, that I seem to myself, on looking back to this time of my
life, to have been always in the peaceful shade. I can see
others in the sunlight; I can see our boats’ crews and our
athletic young men on the glistening water, or speckled with the
moving lights of sunlit leaves; but I myself am always in the
shadow looking on. Not unsympathetically,—God
forbid!—but looking on alone, much as I looked at Sylvia
from the shadows of the ruined house, or looked at the red gleam
shining through the farmer’s windows, and listened to the
fall of dancing feet, when all the ruin was dark that night in
the quadrangle.
I now come to the reason of my quoting that laudation of
myself above given. Without such reason, to repeat it would
have been mere boastfulness.
Among those who had read with me was Mr. Fareway, second son
of Lady Fareway, widow of Sir Gaston Fareway, baronet. This
young gentleman’s abilities were much above the average;
but he came of a rich family, and was idle and luxurious.
He presented himself to me too late, and afterwards came to me
too irregularly, to admit of my being of much service to
him. In the end, I considered it my duty to dissuade him
from going up for an examination which he could never pass; and
he left college without a degree. After his departure, Lady
Fareway wrote to me, representing the justice of my returning
half my fee, as I had been of so little use to her son.
Within my knowledge a similar demand had not been made in any
other case; and I most freely admit that the justice of it had
not occurred to me until it was pointed out. But I at once
perceived it, yielded to it, and returned the money—
Mr. Fareway had been gone two years or more, and I had
forgotten him, when he one day walked into my rooms as I was
sitting at my books.
Said he, after the usual salutations had passed, ‘Mr.
Silverman, my mother is in town here, at the hotel, and wishes me
to present you to her.’
I was not comfortable with strangers, and I dare say I
betrayed that I was a little nervous or unwilling.
‘For,’ said he, without my having spoken, ‘I
think the interview may tend to the advancement of your
prospects.’
It put me to the blush to think that I should be tempted by a
worldly reason, and I rose immediately.
Said Mr. Fareway, as we went along, ‘Are you a good hand
at business?’
‘I think not,’ said I.
Said Mr. Fareway then, ‘My mother is.’
‘Truly?’ said I.
‘Yes: my mother is what is usually called a managing
woman. Doesn’t make a bad thing, for instance, even
out of the spendthrift habits of my eldest brother abroad.
In short, a managing woman. This is in
confidence.’
He had never spoken to me in confidence, and I was surprised
by his doing so. I said I should respect his confidence, of
course, and said no more on the delicate subject. We had
but a little way to walk, and I was soon in his mother’s
company. He presented me, shook hands with me, and left us
two (as he said) to business.
I saw in my Lady Fareway a handsome, well-preserved lady of
somewhat large stature, with a steady glare in her great round
dark eyes that embarrassed me.
Said my lady, ‘I have heard from my son, Mr. Silverman,
that you would be glad of some preferment in the
church.’ I gave my lady to understand that was
so.
‘I don’t know whether you are aware,’ my
lady proceeded, ‘that we have a presentation to a
living? I say we have; but, in point of fact,
I have.’
I gave my lady to understand that I had not been aware of
this.
Said my lady, ‘So it is: indeed I have two
presentations,—one to two hundred a year, one to six.
Both livings are in our county,—North Devonshire,—as
you probably know. The first is vacant. Would you
like it?’
What with my lady’s eyes, and what with the suddenness
of this proposed gift, I was much confused.
‘I am sorry it is not the larger presentation,’
said my lady, rather coldly; ‘though I will not, Mr.
Silverman, pay you the bad compliment of supposing that
you are, because that would be mercenary,—and
mercenary I am persuaded you are not.’
Said I, with my utmost earnestness, ‘Thank you, Lady
Fareway, thank you, thank you! I should be deeply hurt if I
thought I bore the character.’
‘Naturally,’ said my lady. ‘Always
detestable, but particularly in a clergyman. You have not
said whether you will like the living?’
With apologies for my remissness or indistinctness, I assured
my lady that I accepted it most readily and gratefully. I
added that I hoped she would not estimate my appreciation of the
generosity of her choice by my flow of words; for I was not a
ready man in that respect when taken by surprise or touched at
heart.
‘The affair is concluded,’ said my lady;
‘concluded. You will find the duties very light, Mr.
Silverman. Charming house; charming little garden, orchard,
and all that. You will be able to take pupils. By the
bye! No: I will return to the word afterwards. What
was I going to mention, when it put me out?’
My lady stared at me, as if I knew. And I didn’t
know. And that perplexed me afresh.
Said my lady, after some consideration, ‘O, of course,
how very dull of me! The last incumbent,—least
mercenary man I ever saw,—in consideration of the duties
being so light and the house so delicious, couldn’t rest,
he said, unless I permitted him to help me with my
correspondence, accounts, and various little things of that kind;
nothing in themselves, but which it worries a lady to cope
with. Would Mr. Silverman also like to—? Or
shall I—?’
I hastened to say that my poor help would be always at her
ladyship’s service.
‘I am absolutely blessed,’ said my lady, casting
up her eyes (and so taking them off me for one moment), ‘in
having to do with gentlemen who cannot endure an approach to the
idea of being mercenary!’ She shivered at the
word. ‘And now as to the pupil.’
‘The—?’ I was quite at a loss.
‘Mr. Silverman, you have no idea what she is. She
is,’ said my lady, laying her touch upon my coat-sleeve,
‘I do verily believe, the most extraordinary girl in this
world. Already knows more Greek and Latin than Lady Jane
Grey. And taught herself! Has not yet, remember,
derived a moment’s advantage from Mr. Silverman’s
classical acquirements. To say nothing of mathematics,
which she is bent upon becoming versed in, and in which (as I
hear from my son and others) Mr. Silverman’s reputation is
so deservedly high!’
Under my lady’s eyes I must have lost the clue, I felt
persuaded; and yet I did not know where I could have dropped
it.
‘Adelina,’ said my lady, ‘is my only
daughter. If I did not feel quite convinced that I am not
blinded by a mother’s partiality; unless I was absolutely
sure that when you know her, Mr. Silverman, you will esteem it a
high and unusual privilege to direct her studies,—I should
introduce a mercenary element into this conversation, and ask you
on what terms—’
I entreated my lady to go no further. My lady saw that I
was troubled, and did me the honour to comply with my
request.
