Mr. Snodgrass was a good deal agitated; he was taken by surprise, and
without words the Doctor might have guessed his sentiments; he, however,
frankly confessed that he did entertain a very high opinion of Miss Bell,
but that he was not sure if a country parish would exactly suit him.
"Never mind that," said the Doctor; "if it does not fit at first, you
will get used to it; and if a better casts up, it will be no obstacle."
The two gentlemen then rejoined the ladies, and, after a short
conversation, Miss Becky Glibbans was admonished to depart, by the
servants bringing in the Bibles for the worship of the evening. This was
usually performed before supper, but, owing to the bowl being on the
table, and the company jocose, it had been postponed till all the guests
who were not to sleep in the house had departed.
The Sunday morning was fine and bright for the season; the hoarfrost,
till about an hour after sunrise, lay white on the grass and tombstones
in the churchyard; but before the bell rung for the congregation to
assemble, it was exhaled away, and a freshness, that was only known to be
autumnal by the fallen and yellow leaves that strewed the church-way path
from the ash and plane trees in the avenue, encouraged the spirits to
sympathise with the universal cheerfulness of all nature.
The return of the Doctor had been bruited through the parish with so much
expedition, that, when the bell rung for public worship, none of those
who were in the practice of stopping in the churchyard to talk about the
weather were so ignorant as not to have heard of this important fact. In
consequence, before the time at which the Doctor was wont to come from
the back-gate which opened from the manse-garden into the churchyard, a
great majority of his people were assembled to receive him.
At the last jingle of the bell, the back-gate was usually opened, and the
Doctor was wont to come forth as punctually as a cuckoo of a clock at the
striking of the hour; but a deviation was observed on this occasion.
Formerly, Mrs. Pringle and the rest of the family came first, and a few
minutes were allowed to elapse before the Doctor, laden with grace, made
his appearance. But at this time, either because it had been settled
that Mr. Snodgrass was to officiate, or for some other reason, there was
a breach in the observance of this time-honoured custom.
As the ringing of the bell ceased, the gate unclosed, and the Doctor came
forth. He was of that easy sort of feather-bed corpulency of form that
betokens good-nature, and had none of that smooth, red, well-filled
protuberancy, which indicates a choleric humour and a testy temper. He
was in fact what Mrs. Glibbans denominated "a man of a gausy external."
And some little change had taken place during his absence in his visible
equipage. His stockings, which were wont to be of worsted, had undergone
a translation into silk; his waist-coat, instead--of the venerable
Presbyterian flap-covers to the pockets, which were of Johnsonian
magnitude, was become plain--his coat in all times single-breasted, with
no collar, still, however, maintained its ancient characteristics;
instead, however, of the former bright black cast horn, the buttons were
covered with cloth. But the chief alteration was discernible in the
furniture of the head. He had exchanged the simplicity of his own
respectable grey hairs for the cauliflower hoariness of a PARRISH {3}
wig, on which he wore a broad-brimmed hat, turned up a little at each
side behind, in a portentous manner, indicatory of Episcopalian
predilections. This, however, was not justified by any alteration in his
principles, being merely an innocent variation of fashion, the natural
result of a Doctor of Divinity buying a hat and wig in London.