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  CHAPTER XX. THE REVEREND MILES MIRABEL.

  "I am making a little excursion from the Engadine, my dearest of alldear friends. Two charming fellow-travelers take care of me; and we mayperhaps get as far as the Lake of Como.

  "My sister (already much improved in health) remains at St. Moritz withthe old governess. The moment I know what exact course we are going totake, I shall write to Julia to forward any letters which arrive in myabsence. My life, in this earthly paradise, will be only complete when Ihear from my darling Emily.

  "In the meantime, we are staying for the night at some interestingplace, the name of which I have unaccountably forgotten; and here I amin my room, writing to you at last--dying to know if Sir Jervis has yetthrown himself at your feet, and offered to make you Lady Redwood withmagnificent settlements.

  "But you are waiting to hear who my new friends are. My dear, one ofthem is, next to yourself, the most delightful creature in existence.Society knows her as Lady Janeaway. I love her already, by her Christianname; she is my friend Doris. And she reciprocates my sentiments.

  "You will now understand that union of sympathies made us acquaintedwith each other.

  "If there is anything in me to be proud of, I think it must be myadmirable appetite. And, if I have a passion, the name of it is Pastry.Here again, Lady Doris reciprocates my sentiments. We sit next to eachother at the _table d'hote_.

  "Good heavens, I have forgotten her husband! They have been marriedrather more than a month. Did I tell you that she is just two yearsolder than I am?

  "I declare I am forgetting him again! He is Lord Janeaway. Such a quietmodest man, and so easily amused. He carries with him everywhere a dirtylittle tin case, with air holes in the cover. He goes softly pokingabout among bushes and brambles, and under rocks, and behind old woodenhouses. When he has caught some hideous insect that makes one shudder,he blushes with pleasure, and looks at his wife and me, and says, withthe prettiest lisp: 'This is what I call enjoying the day.' To see themanner in which he obeys Her is, between ourselves, to feel proud ofbeing a woman.

  "Where was I? Oh, at the _table d'hote_.

  "Never, Emily--I say it with a solemn sense of the claims oftruth--never have I eaten such an infamous, abominable, maddeningly baddinner, as the dinner they gave us on our first day at the hotel. I askyou if I am not patient; I appeal to your own recollection of occasionswhen I have exhibited extraordinary self-control. My dear, I held outuntil they brought the pastry round. I took one bite, and committedthe most shocking offense against good manners at table that you canimagine. My handkerchief, my poor innocent handkerchief, received thehorrid--please suppose the rest. My hair stands on end, when I think ofit. Our neighbors at the table saw me. The coarse men laughed. The sweetyoung bride, sincerely feeling for me, said, 'Will you allow me to shakehands? I did exactly what you have done the day before yesterday.' Suchwas the beginning of my friendship with Lady Doris Janeaway.

  "We are two resolute women--I mean that _she_ is resolute, and thatI follow her--and we have asserted our right of dining to our ownsatisfaction, by means of an interview with the chief cook.

  "This interesting person is an ex-Zouave in the French army. Instead ofmaking excuses, he confessed that the barbarous tastes of the Englishand American visitors had so discouraged him, that he had lost all prideand pleasure in the exercise of his art. As an example of what he meant,he mentioned his experience of two young Englishmen who could speakno foreign language. The waiters reported that they objected to theirbreakfasts, and especially to the eggs. Thereupon (to translate theFrenchman's own way of putting it) he exhausted himself in exquisitepreparations of eggs. _Eggs a la tripe, au gratin, a l'Aurore, ala Dauphine, a la Poulette, a la Tartare, a la Venitienne, a laBordelaise_, and so on, and so on. Still the two young gentlemenwere not satisfied. The ex-Zouave, infuriated; wounded in his honor,disgraced as a professor, insisted on an explanation. What, in heaven'sname, _did_ they want for breakfast? They wanted boiled eggs; and a fishwhich they called a _Bloaterre_. It was impossible, he said, to expresshis contempt for the English idea of a breakfast, in the presenceof ladies. You know how a cat expresses herself in the presence of adog--and you will understand the allusion. Oh, Emily, what dinners wehave had, in our own room, since we spoke to that noble cook!

  "Have I any more news to send you? Are you interested, my dear, ineloquent young clergymen?

  "On our first appearance at the public table we noticed a remarkable airof depression among the ladies. Had some adventurous gentleman tried toclimb a mountain, and failed? Had disastrous political news arrived fromEngland; a defeat of the Conservatives, for instance? Had a revolutionin the fashions broken out in Paris, and had all our best dresses becomeof no earthly value to us? I applied for information to the only ladypresent who shone on the company with a cheerful face--my friend Doris,of course. "'What day was yesterday?' she asked.

  "'Sunday,' I answered.

  "'Of all melancholy Sundays,' she continued, the most melancholy inthe calendar. Mr. Miles Mirabel preached his farewell sermon, in ourtemporary chapel upstairs.'

  "'And you have not recovered it yet?'

  "'We are all heart-broken, Miss Wyvil.'

  "This naturally interested me. I asked what sort of sermons Mr. Mirabelpreached. Lady Janeaway said: 'Come up to our room after dinner. Thesubject is too distressing to be discussed in public.'

  "She began by making me personally acquainted with the reverendgentleman--that is to say, she showed me the photographic portraits ofhim. They were two in number. One only presented his face. The otherexhibited him at full length, adorned in his surplice. Every lady in thecongregation had received the two photographs as a farewell present. 'Myportraits,' Lady Doris remarked, 'are the only complete specimens. Theothers have been irretrievably ruined by tears.'

  "You will now expect a personal description of this fascinating man.What the photographs failed to tell me, my friend was so kind as tocomplete from the resources of her own experience. Here is the resultpresented to the best of my ability.

  "He is young--not yet thirty years of age. His complexion is fair; hisfeatures are delicate, his eyes are clear blue. He has pretty hands, andrings prettier still. And such a voice, and such manners! You will saythere are plenty of pet parsons who answer to this description. Wait alittle--I have kept his chief distinction till the last. His beautifullight hair flows in profusion over his shoulders; and his glossy beardwaves, at apostolic length, down to the lower buttons of his waistcoat.

  "What do you think of the Reverend Miles Mirabel now?

  "The life and adventures of our charming young clergyman, bear eloquenttestimony to the saintly patience of his disposition, under trials whichwould have overwhelmed an ordinary man. (Lady Doris, please notice,quotes in this place the language of his admirers; and I report LadyDoris.)

  "He has been clerk in a lawyer's office--unjustly dismissed. He hasgiven readings from Shakespeare--infamously neglected. He has beensecretary to a promenade concert company--deceived by a pennilessmanager. He has been employed in negotiations for making foreignrailways--repudiated by an unprincipled Government. He has beentranslator to a publishing house--declared incapable byenvious newspapers and reviews. He has taken refuge in dramaticcriticism--dismissed by a corrupt editor. Through all these means ofpurification for the priestly career, he passed at last into theone sphere that was worthy of him: he entered the Church, under theprotection of influential friends. Oh, happy change! From that momenthis labors have been blessed. Twice already he has been presentedwith silver tea-pots filled with sovereigns. Go where he may, precioussympathies environ him; and domestic affection places his knife and forkat innumerable family tables. After a continental career, which willleave undying recollections, he is now recalled to England--at thesuggestion of a person of distinction in the Church, who prefers a mildclimate. It will now be his valued privilege to represent an absentrector in a country living; remote from cities, secluded in pastoralsolitude, among simple breeders of sheep.
May the shepherd prove worthyof the flock!

  "Here again, my dear, I must give the merit where the merit is due.This memoir of Mr. Mirabel is not of my writing. It formed part of hisfarewell sermon, preserved in the memory of Lady Doris--and it shows(once more in the language of his admirers) that the truest humility maybe found in the character of the most gifted man.

  "Let me only add, that you will have opportunities of seeing andhearing this popular preacher, when circumstances permit him to addresscongregations in the large towns. I am at the end of my news; and Ibegin to feel--after this long, long letter--that it is time to go tobed. Need I say that I have often spoken of you to Doris, and that sheentreats you to be her friend as well as mine, when we meet again inEngland?

  "Good-by, darling, for the present. With fondest love,

  "Your CECILIA."

  "P.S.--I have formed a new habit. In case of feeling hungry in thenight, I keep a box of chocolate under the pillow. You have no idea whata comfort it is. If I ever meet with the man who fulfills my ideal, Ishall make it a condition of the marriage settlement, that I am to havechocolate under the pillow."