Ivy Compton-Burnett - Dolores

“Yes, indeed it was,” said Mrs Blackwood, in her high — pitched, somewhat strained tones. “We all enjoyed it so very much, did we not, Lettice?”

“Yes, indeed we did,” said Lettice. “And I am sure we shall enjoy many others from Mr Billing no less.”

“Well, well, I hope so — with the higher help,” said Mr Billing, dropping his voice at the last words, and making, we will suppose, some transition in their application.

“I was so much struck by the simile at the end of it,” continued Mrs Blackwood. “It is such a beautiful idea — that every good action leaves its light behind—‘a light that shall never be quenched.’ You know there is something of the same idea in Shakespeare; when Portia says that, just as the light shines from a window on the darkness of the night, ‘so shines a good deed in a wicked world.’ You know the passage, Mr Billing?”

“Yes, I believe I have come across it,” said Mr Billing—“that is, I do not think it strikes me as — as being new to me.”

“But I think we may accord Mr Billing the tribute of originality,” said Lettice, whom her family considered intellectual. “His idea and that of Shakespeare are quite different.”

“Yes — I do not think they are the same,” said Mr Billing, turning slightly red, and looking down.

“It is when Portia and her maid are returning from the trial of Antonio,” continued Mrs Blackwood; “and Portia sees the light of her own windows from the road. What a fine play it is, is it not, Mr Billing? I think it is quite one of Shakespeare’s finest.”

“Yes — indeed — do you?” said Mr Billing. “I am not a great reader of Shakespeare myself, I am afraid.”

“It — is — strange,” interposed Dr Cassell, “how extremely little is known of Shakespeare — as a man. I believe that almost the only authentic story about his youth is — that he was on one occasion taken up for poaching.”

“Others abide our question. Thou art free,” quoted the Reverend Cleveland in an undertone; as if, though not caring to join in the talk, he did not grudge it a subdued note of culture.

“That is such a sweet po-em, Mr Hutton,” said Mrs Merton-Vane. “I used to be so fond of poetry when I was a gi-rl. But that is a long while ago now.”

“Well, my darling” said Mr Blackwood to his wife, “suppose we go in to supper, and postpone any further talk till our guests have had some refreshment.”

“Or are having some,” put in Dr Cassell, with a smile.

“Yes, let us, mother,” said Elsa, who enjoyed saying things to draw attention. “You can sit by Mr Billing, and indulge in physical and spiritual sustenance at the same time.”

“What, de-ar?” said Mrs Merton-Vane, with amiable perplexity.

Mrs Blackwood gave her daughter a glance of disapproval, as she led the way into the dining-room. Elsa had been indulged in childhood by parents exulting in her looks and her spirit; but of late had evinced some unfilial independence, and partiality for worldly things; in contrast to Lettice, who had already been converted, and had even given. an account of this process in herself as testimony at a meeting.

“Well, now, Mr Billing” said Mr Blackwood, in one of his pauses in carving; which tended to occur rather frequently; his attention not being easily detained by unevangelistic duties; “I hope that you are of the same mind as my wife and myself upon the Drink question. You will never find wine or spirits upon our table. I hope that you and I are agreed on that subject, at any rate.”

“Yes, indeed, Mr Blackwood,” said Mr Billing; “yes, indeed. It has been a matter of great thankfulness to me, to find how much good work has been done in that direction in this neighbourhood — and done by your agency, if I understand aright. It is my opinion that there would be very little wrong with our old country, if we could get rid of the drink.”

“Hear, hear!” said Mr Blackwood, laying down the carving knife and fork. “That is the sort of thing that it does one good to listen to.”

“Dear Herbert,” said Mrs Blackwood, “do think of what you are doing, and attend to the wants of our guests. Mr Billing has not anything yet.”

“Oh — no — not at all — no; thank you, thank you, Mr Blackwood,” said Mr Billing; jumping in reception of his plate.

“I hope we shall hear you speak on Temperance soon, Mr Billing,” said Lettice.

“Oh, there will not be any need, Mr Billing,” said Elsa. “Father and mother will take all that off your hands. They get quite jealous of anybody else’s speaking on Temperance.

“Elsa, how can you say such things?” said Mrs Blackwood. “Your father and I do our best for the cause we have so much at heart; but if the work should be taken from us by abler hands than ours, we could do nothing but rejoice.”

“Yes, that is it, my darling,” said Mr Blackwood. “You are right, as you always are — as I have found you on every occasion for twenty years.”

“How pret-ty it is to hear him!” said Mrs Merton-Vane, looking round the company.

“Herbert, do not be so absurd, dear,” said Mrs Blackwood.

“Do you — are you — you are a teetotaler too, I suppose, Mr Hutton?” said Mr Billing, nervously, to the Reverend Cleveland; whom, dissenter on principle though he was, he could not but regard as a weighty personality, and a fit object for affable address, and whose open smile at Elsa’s words he had not perceived.

“No,” said the Reverend Cleveland without elaboration.

“We cant all feel the same about ev-er-y-thing,” said Mrs Merton-Vane, inclining her head.

“Ah, well, Mr Billing, we hope to convince the Vicar in time,” said Mr Blackwood.

“We — are told,” interposed Dr Cassell, “to ‘take a little wine for our health’s sake, and for our often infirmities.’”

“Oh, but, doctor,” said Mrs Blackwood, with eager shrillness, “it is definitely proved that the wine in those days had practically no intoxicating power. We cannot accept such different conditions as parallel. I was reading such an admirable little treatise on the question the other day. It put the different arguments so very powerfully. You would be most interested in it, I am sure, doctor. Would he not, Lettice?”

“Yes, he could not fail to be,” said Lettice. “There was so much interesting information in it, besides the treatment of the main question; and that, of course, was exceedingly able.”

“I believe,” said Dr Cassell, “that there are many different views upon the subject.”

“Oh, yes,” said Mrs Blackwood, gesticulating slightly with her hand; “but all those were discussed and most convincingly refuted. Nothing was glossed over, or passed by without perfectly fair treatment. I really must find the booklet for you, Dr Cassell. Do not forget to remind me, Lettice, dear.”

“Oh, I would not read it, Dr Cassell,” said Elsa. “It is only one of mother’s tracts.”

“Oh, you fun-ny child!” said Mrs Merton-Vane, looking at Mr Hutton.

“But surely,” interposed Mrs Cassell in very gentle tones, breaking off her dialogue with Mrs Hutton, to fulfil the duty of seconding her husband; “it is not for us to put our own interpretation on the words. Surely they should be enough for us as they stand.”

“No, I don’t agree with you there, Mrs Cassell,” said Mr Blackwood loudly; “I don’t agree with you. I remain a staunch upholder of Temperance myself. We Wesleyans don’t shrink from showing our colours for a cause we honestly have at heart; and I shall never shrink from showing mine for Temperance. Ah, yes; there are Wesleyans in every part of the world, showing their colours for what they believe in their hearts to be right.”