The sacred cup

Chapter I

If Mr. Jerred, dreaming open-eyed dreams about the Church Militant here on earth, had not loitered amid the haunted silences of the cathedral, and afterwards in the deserted cloisters, he would have been in good time for his appointment with the Bishop. He forgot, not where he was, but why he was there. His surroundings gave him the mood of reverential wonder; he felt, quite humbly, that he was in the great tradition, the heir of the spiritual and ecclesiastical ages; he had read about the cathedral in many books, things of fact and things of legend, and he had heard its bells far away in his lonely parish among the hills, but nothing could give him the atmosphere ot these ancient, hallowed precincts. There was here the note of sanctity, a note to which Mr. Jerred was very susceptible, as all men are who do not know that they themselves possess it.

Still forgetting the Bishop, who was to him nevertheless a personage of almost supernatural importance, he came at last to a large prison-like door, over which the arms of the See were cut in stone This, he supposed, was the entrance to the palace, but he could not feel sure, as there were many buildings round Muntham cathedral, and they were all very old, and stately, and sleepy. Mr. Jerred did not doubt that it was a decorous, chastened, becoming sleepiness; he never criticised Church dignitaries, though he had smiled at Arnold Karnes’s high-spirited comments upon them.

There was no bell, and no knocker; the door seemed to be shut very tight, like an obstinate man’s mouth when he has said his final word and is not going to listen to any appeal for pity. Mr. Jerred felt amost ashamed of himself that anything about the cathedral should give him so harsh an impression. This was his first visit to the Bishop, and he would have had other thoughts had he known that he stood before the prelate’s private door, by which commonly no one else was allowed to enter. It would not have occurred to Mr. Jerred to keep a special door for himself; and he would scarcely have felt comfortable on that towering throne of wondrous carved work in the cathedral. But this only tells us what we may already have guessed, that Mr. Jerred was not born to be a bishop.

He looked at his watch and was alarmed to see that it was nearly three minutes past the appointed hour. He lifted up his walking-stick and knocked, not boldly, but he hoped sufiiciently, on the formidable door. Then he gazed at it with tremulous patience until it was opened a servant in livery.

'' I beg your pardon. Is the Bishop at home?

Yes, sir. His lordship is in the palace.”

The answer sounded strange: Mr. Jerred did not know why. He gave his name. But the servant, his manner expressive of astonishment, stood in the doorway as though to prevent him from entering. Again Mr. Jerred was at a loss ; perhaps he had given offence by coming to see the Bishop in muddy boots ; he was sorry the roads had been heavy from the March rains, and was ready to apologise. He looked about for a scraper, but nothing of that sort was needed there, all the paths being paved with stone. And then, as the servant neither spoke nor moved, Mr. Jerred took from his coat-tail pocket a large red handkerchief, and wiped from his cheek a drop of water which the cold winds had wrung from his eye.

I am the Rector of Lamberfield. The Bishop wishes to see me.”

And now Mr. Jerred blew his nose. It was a trumpet-like sound for so small a man; Arnold Karnes said he was incapable of doing anything violent except the blowing of his nose, and his housekeeper, sharptongued Mrs. Verdley, called it the Rector's waking of the dead. He had a closer sense of its effect, perhaps also of its humour, than was generally supposed : that, no doubt, is why it was never heard in church, or in a cottage in which a parishioner lay ill, or where a child was asleep. It so startled and impressed the palace servant that on the strength of it he admitted Mr. Jerred through the exclusive portal.

He was shown into the study. It was empty; but in a few minutes, just as the quiet little clergyman from the outlandish parish was beginning to wonder at there being no picture or other symbol of religious significance in the room, the Bishop entered and received him with ofiicial courtesy.

He was a man of immense size compared with his puny visitor, and belonged to the aristocratic rather than the priestly type. He had a great, spreading, patronising manner, a strong and commonplace mind, and a voice habitually authoritative. He was proud of his reputation for bluntness, and talked so much about “muscular Christianity ’’ (he had three sons in the army, two in the navy, and another was a famous cricketer) that one day an unreasonable old lady asked him where she could find the words in the Bible. “ They are in the book of common sense, “ he replied in a tone of finality. The statesman who recommended his elevation to the episcopate said he would make an ideal prelate. Mr. Jerred was afraid of him, and would not have dared to blow his nose honestly in the episcopal presence.

“Sit down, Jerred. Take that chair.’*

“ Thank you, my lord. I regret I am late. I went into the cathedral ”

“ Yes. You look as if you had lost your way. That does n’t matter. I have an important engagement presently, but we can get through our business before then. You don’t seem to be getting fat at lyamberfield. Rather scarecrowy,” said the Bishop with the large smile of the small humourist.

‘‘ I am afraid, my lord, there is not enough of me for — for much more extension.” Mr. Jerred blushed at this extraordinary liberty. trust,” he added hastily, ” your lordship is quite well.”

” Oh, yes; I have to keep myself up to the mark in order to keep you clergy up to it. ’ ’

The Bishop was seated at his writing-table turning over a heap of documents. He selected a letter, written on common paper, and, having glanced at it, leaned back in his chair and looked across the table at Mr. Jerred.

” This is about you, at or least has reference to you, but I won’t trouble you to read it. The writer, I gather, is a female, evidently uneducated, but she withholds her name. Of course, under ordinary circumstances, I ignore such communications. In this case, however, I have further information. I hope, Jerred, you are not making enemies at Tamberfield ? ” Not — not that I am aware of, my lord.”

” They ’d let you know. It is always best for a beneficed clergyman to be on friendly terms with his people. As the wise old saint says, more flies are caught with honey than with vinegar, and the honey costs nothing. Any silly woman bothering you ? ”

“ No, my lord — not to my knowledge/^

“ You must have had an exceptional experience for a bachelor. But you are no longer a distracting juvenile. How old are you ? ’’

‘‘ Forty-five/’ Mr. Jerred replied with an unconscious little sigh.

“ I have no doubt/’ said the Bishop, ‘‘you are doing your duty, and I shall assume that this unknown writer has some ridiculous grudge against you My other informant is more impartial. I am given to understand that you are maintaining at the Rectory — that you have actually adopted — the child of an unfortunate young woman named Charlotte Ollett. ’ ’ The Bishop paused. “ Is this the case, Jerred ? ”

“ Yes, my lord. It is not true— not quite accurate to say that I have adopted the child; I could not do that without the father’s consent, and we do not know who the father is. We are endeavouring to discover him.”

“ What good would that do now ?”

Mr. Jerred raised his eyes to the Bishop’s face in simple wonderment.

“ It is not right that he should be allowed to escape responsibility.”

“ But if, as I am informed, the mother died without naming the father of her child, or giving any clue to his identity, surely neither the law, nor you, nor anybody else could compel him to admit his responsibility. You must have considered the matter in that light ? ”

I cannot say that I have, my lord. The legal aspect of the case does not— has not interested me hitherto.”

** But how could you punish such a man — supposing it were possible to do anything — without having recourse to the law ? ”

Mr. Jerred confessed he had not been contemplating the punishment of any one, and added, ' ‘ I have been thinking, if we should hear from him, of other influences.”

” You are a nice kind of ecclesiastical chief constable of Tamberfield ! ’ ’ cried the Bishop. He glanced again at the anonymous letter. Very well, then. Now let us get at the facts, so that we may know exactly where we are. The child’s mother was unmarried — please correct me if I go wrong. She was for some years in your service as housemaid. I conclude that her general conduct must have been satisfactory for you to keep her so long. What was her age ? ”

‘‘ Nineteen, my lord. She passed away in giving birth to the child. I have baptised him David.”

' ‘ Is that the name of some young fellow who was courting her ? ’ ’

At the moment, it seemed to Mr. Jerred that the indignation he felt at this question was quite natural, but afterwards he feared he had been angry with his diocesan without cause.

‘‘ No,” he said, turning aside his head.

But he softened almost at once; for the future of lyOttie’s child was in jeopardy, and this was a call to him to crush his own feelings, or at least to express them with a wider charity.

‘‘She was very young, my lord, and innocent. I beg you to be patient with me for using that word; my friends tell me it should not be used — that it requires explanation — and I cannot explain it! Yet I believe in her innocence; I don’t think I shall ever cease to believe in it! I have not always understood, but I seem to understand now, that there may be moral lapses — if I might not be allowed to say moral accidents — which soil the face with bitter tears, and bring repentance as it were like a thunderbolt out of a calm and clear sky, and yet leave the soul unpolluted.”

“ That is a dangerous doctrine, Jerred. I hope you don’t preach it to your people.”

No, my lord, I don’t. Nevertheless, I think it is not unscriptural. As I have said, I cannot understand it, and I trust I am not appearing sophistical to your lordship — but I knew this poor girl in life, and I looked upon her beautiful, martyred face in death, and I am not uneasy in my conscience for my thoughts about her. Indeed, she was like a child herself, always so simple and happy and gentle, and so ignorant of the dark ways of the world and its temptations. Her fall is the deepest mystery in my experience of human frailty. It wounded my own faith for a time and dragged me down to the dust, till I could scarcely lift up my eyes. I am grieved, my lord, to say this to you.”

The Bishop was more perplexed than he would have been over an abstruse point in theology. He could flick theology to the winds with the book of common sense, but here was a moral problem, with uncertain personalities behind it, which could not be dealt with so easily. He suspected Mr. Jerred to be capable of that most obstinate form of fanaticism which in pure unselfishness determines that justice shall be done though all the world is scandalised; and scandal, especially clerical scandal, was peculiarly abhorrent to him. Yet he was confronted in the conduct of one of his clerg}'' with a grave issue, and the matter had gone so far that his dignity and authority would be compromised, were he to recede without doing something.

‘ ‘ When was the child born ? ”

Four months ago.”

* ‘ At the Rectory ? ’ '

” Yes, my lord.”

And it is still at the Rectory? Very well then,” said the Bishop, standing up suddenly at his writing-table. ” Now we must be practical about all this. It does credit to your heart, Jerred, if not to your head, to imagine that the father is likely to come forward voluntarily. He won't do anything of the sort! He must be a heartless rascal, and he will never disclose himself. The extraordinary circumstance to my mind is that you should have no idea as to his identity. Your parish is small, at least with regard to population, and you must be personally acquainted with every one there. Had the unhappy girl no sweetheart ? ”

lO

“ No, my lord. Douglas Shulmere, a young man of the village, is known to have professed an attachment for her — I don’t wish to question his sincerity in this respect, but he has not, I regret to say, a very good character, and it is common knowledge that Dottie would have nothing to do with him. She was, indeed, afraid of him, and would go considerable distances out of her way in order to avoid meeting him.”

The Bishop sat down again.

” But do you seriously tell me, that in a mere hamlet, where everybody knows everybody else, no one is even suspected ? ”

Mr. Jerred hesitated a moment.

‘‘ There are people, I am sorry to say, who do point to another young man, but I cannot at all share their suspicion, and I greatly deplore the wrong that is being done him. I felt no compunction in accepting him as one of the child’s godfathers.”

Who is he?”

“ Roland Margesson. He is in the choir, and wishes to leave it, owing to the talk which is so distressing and injuring him, but I have prevailed upon him to remain a little longer, to see how things turn — to give people an opportunity of ”

‘‘ Agreeing with your estimate of Mr. Margesson ? ” the Bishop interrupted somewhat sharply. ”So I gather that your parish is at loggerheads over this most unfortunate affair at the Rectory.”

” I would not like your lordship to think it is quite so

1 1 bad as that. We were all sorely troubled towards the end of last year, but I perceived a welcome improvement in charitable feeling at Christmas, and we are becoming more tranquil now.^*

‘‘ Nearly all your people are poor, I suppose ?

A great many of them are, my lord. There are a few exceptions. Sir Ardenne Tyson ”

‘'An old friend of mine. I remember him quite well; he once did me an important service in Tondon. Does he live in your parish ? ’’

“Yes; at Chantry House with his daughter. He is possessed of means; and Miss Tyson, I understand, is rich in her own right, from a large fortune left to her by an uncle, Mr. Henry Tyson. Two or three other persons seem to be tolerably well-to-do. But generally speaking it is a poor parish.

The Bishop, his manner growing more stern, asked what Sir Ardenne Tyson and his family had to say about this scandal, and Mr. Jerred answered that he had not heard him express any opinion, but that Miss Tyson made no concealment of her belief in Roland Margesson’s innocence of the charge which had been brought against him.

“ What are his people ?

“ Only his mother is living now in the village. She is a very nice and respectable old lady. His father was for a long period the Tamberfield grocer, and I buried him. Roland left home for a time, taking a situation in Tondon, and Miss Tyson thinks it is this fact, more than anything else, which tells against him now. He returned two years ago, when his father died, and he has since carried on the business for his mother. She is dependent upon it, and serious harm, I regret to say, is being done to them by this groundless suspicion. She is getting very frail, and Roland says if there was any one else to look after her, he would not stay to be made the target of — I forget his exact expression.*'

“You are convinced there is nothing in the allegations against him ? * *

“ Oh, yes, quite convinced, my lord."

The Bishop took up the anonymous letter.

“ The moral tone of some of these apparently idyllic rural parishes is not too high. It is obvious that this child should not have been born at the Rectory. There is a postscript here I may read to you."

As the letter was unfolded in the prelate’s flourishing way, Mr. Jerred accidentally caught a glimpse of the writing; it seemed familiar to him, yet he did not recognise it.

“ lyisten. ‘ This was not written by Mr, Camoys,^ Who is Mr, Camoys ? "

“ He lives at Alard Place, some two miles from the village, but still in the parish."

“Married?"

“ No, my lord."

“Young?"

“ He was twenty-seven — or it may have been twentyeight — I have such a bad memory for dates and figures — in January last/’

‘‘What is he?”

‘‘ A gentleman.”

“ Technically ? ”

“ Oh, in every respect, my lord.”

“You make out,” observed the Bishop, “that you have a community of perfect beings. But they don’t appear to be able to crush the head of the serpent in their midst. I hope Mr. Camoys subscribes to your parochial funds.”

‘ ‘ He is too poor to give much, but he does help when he can. He belongs to an extremely old family, who have been at Alard Place for a great number of years, and it is so strange and interesting that he should be the last of his race in the male line. The De Camoys of Alard once held titles, as various memorials of them in the church testify, and the inscriptions indicate that they were scholars and patrons of the arts as well as persons of influence in the county. The estate has been sadly reduced, though I don’t think Mr. Camoys is reconciled to the thought that his family’s greatness has departed. It is commendable in him that he should wish to build up his fortunes again by his own efforts.”

“And a rich wife, I suppose,” added the Bishop. “Very well, then. Now let us get to a settlement of this business, so far as you are concerned in it. As I have said, I am persuaded of the excellence of your motives. But in these days of critical and unscrupulous

H The Sacred Cup

watchers on very side, ready to attack and slander the Church on the smallest pretext, the clergy cannot be too careful. I am obliged to ponder everything I say in public, and there is no clergyman, however humble his position may be, who can aiBford to do anything which gives rise to the breath of scandal. I have expressed my opinion of the unfortunte occurrence in your house, and I am bound to say you scarcely seem fully to realise its seriousness as affecting your parish. What you have now to do is perfectly plain. You will of course take steps to have this child removed as soon as possible from the Rectory.'’

My lord

‘‘ I will tell m}^ secretary to send you particulars about two or three charitable institutions, and you will doubtless be able to select one and make the necessary arragements.”

‘‘ My lord— ”

‘‘You may use my name, and I shall do what I can to get you out of this difficulty. It might have been worse; I am glad I sent for you. There is an admirable charity in this city, in which my wife takes a deep interest, but perhaps it would be desirable, in order to prevent further misunderstanding, that you should find an institution at a distance.”

The Rector of Tamberfield was leaning forward eagerly in his chair.

“ My lord — I beg your pardon — but I hope you will not request me to give the child up until I — until something has been — until we have discovered its father. This is a terrible thought to me — and how is it to go through life ? Its future, humanly speaking, depends, I do think, my lord, upon its father acknowledging it. And that is not all. An innocent man is involved, and his character should be vindicated. Moreover, it surely must have a disastrous effect on the father, spiritually and morally, if he is allowed to stand on one side — in ambush, so to say — without anything being done to bring his duty home to him.'^

The Bishop, intending to end the interview, had moved from his writing-table towards the door. But he returned, and again sat down; this time on a chair nearer to Mr. Jerred.

But you have given me to understand that there is no prospect of your unearthing the man. You have n^t the faintest idea as to who he may be.’’

‘‘Did I say that, my lord? I sometimes think — ” Mr. Jerred paused in pathetic bewilderment. “I pray ever}^ day,” he went on in broken accents, “ that he may come to me and admit his fault, and make such atonement as may now be possible to him — and I believe — oh, something tells me he will do it, my lord — and then we shall know what to do.”

The Bishop gave one of his great impatient sighs.

“ I am afraid you are a very unpractical little man, Jerred. Why, the fellow may be at the other end of the world by now! He may never have lived in your parish. You are utterly in the dark about him, and i6 yet you dream that he is going to prostrate himself at your feet if only you give his conscience time enough to torment him into repentance! You must come and preach in the cathedral; your simplicity would be refreshing after the higher criticism of the Dean and Chapter. Besides, my dear man, the scamp may be of such a character that in the child’s interests it would be as well for him to skulk in the background and his identity remain for ever a secret.”

But Mr. Jerred shook his head.

“ She was a girl of refined tastes and gentle manners, my lord,” he said, and this leads me to conclude that the father of her child cannot be a man of coarse, brutal nature. I cannot say how or when it may come to pass, but I feel in my heart that soon or late he will declare himself. The impression grows upon me that he is living in or near the village, that he is very unhappy, and is anxiously observing me, wondering what I am going to do with the child. This is why I wish to keep it.”

“I see, I see ; you are in the air about the whole thing,” said the Bishop. “ You idealise the father because of your regard and pity for the mother. If you had a wider knowledge of human nature, you would n’t make such a mistake. And supposing you were accidentally to light upon him, and he were to deny it, what then ? Nay, what could you do, even if he were to admit it? You simply could n’t do anything.”

Mr. Jerred, after a silence so prolonged that he began to fear it was disrespectful, said : ‘ ‘ I trust your lordship will grant me time to consider ’ '

‘‘ Oh, yes. But you are clearly an impossible visionary in this matter! If you were a layman, I should have nothing to say, but you are the centre of a parish, and the people look to the Rectory for an example. I don^t for a moment suggest that you don^t set them a good example in ordinary circumstances. But here is something out of the ordinary, and you deal with it in an extraordinary manner. Your parishioners see this child at the Rectory — know it was born there — and what do they think ?

‘‘They do not appear, my lord,’* Mr. Jerred remarked, “to have changed in their kindly feelings towards me.”

“ That may be ; I am delighted to hear it. But you have taken up a peculiar position, and how can you expect ignorant country people to understand your motives ? ”

A servant entered and announced that another visitor was in the library. The Bishop, going with Mr. Jerred to the door, shook hands with him warmly.

“ Now you must reflect on what I have said. Meanwhile, my secretary will forward you those papers. But let there be no mistake — it is eminently undesirable that you should adopt this child. It might lead to painful and unpleasant consequences by which you would be gravely compromised. If the man were forced out of his lair, he might prove a dangerous customer i8 for you to come in conflict with. You seem to have no lack of moral courage, Jerred, but you are dreaming about a miracle, and a clergyman should respect the conventionalities ; they are tremendous realities, and nothing is gained by ignoring them. Had you been a married man, this would not have occurred! Your wife would have settled it in a very different fashion. I find the celibate clergy good workers as a rule, but apt to be eccentric and self-willed, and they too often forget that we are no longer in the first century. The interests of the Church have a paramount claim upon us all. Come and see me again in a week or so, and tell me what you have done.’’

“ Yes, my lord.”

“Very well, then. Good day.

Mr. Jerred was dismissed without the episcopal blessing.

Chapter II

His visit had taken a form so confusingly unexpected that as he wandered through the cloisters they seemed now almost unfamiliar to him. He had offended his Bishop, and he feared that when he went again to the palace, he would be in real disgrace. For, whatever the consequences might be, he could not give up Eottie Ollett’s child to strangers in a public institution.

He was glad to get into a quiet corner in the cathedral precincts, where no one, perhaps, would disturb him for a while ; it was damp and sunless, but restfully green and grey and moss-grown, and the Bishops s personality became gradually less menacing here. The cathedral spire soared into golden light, and Mr. Jerred felt comforted as he stood gazing up at it from the cool shadows of the walled enclosure. Something of the benign atmosphere of the mystic ages returned to him, relieving the dull oppression of thought and feeling into which he had fallen in the episcopal presence. His visions went upward with the spire. He could see it on clear days from the hills bordering his parish on the south-east, and as he gazed, he was carried home 19 in spirit, on the swift wings of the emotions of sympathy and unselfishness which had so endeared him to his people.

He sat on a bench, and fell into deeper and sadder reverie. The glittering cross up there, even the huge pile of the cathedral itself, seemed to pass from his consciousness of immediate things. That strain of music — some one would be playing the great organ in the choir. It sounded very far away too, and yet very near, like his own fading thoughts.

It was a dark, cold night early in November, and he was returning home from visiting a sick peasant on the farther side of Vallum wood. He had just come out of the wood, and was going along by a low wall, when he fancied he heard a noise like a stifled sob. He went on a few steps, listening, and then on the other side of the wall, he saw some one, or something, lying on a heap of straw under a tree. He stopped, peering over the wall, and thought it must be a human figure, but could not be sure. He did feel sure he had heard the note of suffering ; he was never mistaken as to that. He could not go on without speaking, but a vague terror in the very centre of his being kept him silent. It was not a dread of anything that might be done to him personally. He could not have defined his fear; and yet it was one of those profound realities which take up their abode with us, never to leave, hardly even to fade with the passing of the years.

Are you,” at length he said, “having a rest there on the straw ? ^ '