Mr. Horner had given somewhat similar
directions, in the ease of Harry Gregson at
least, there was rather a multiplicity of
counsellers and dainties, than any lack of them.
And the second night Mr. Horner insisted
on taking the superintendence of the nursing
himself, and sate and snored by Harry's
bedside, while the poor, exhausted mother lay
by her child,—thinking that she watched
him, but in reality fast asleep, as Miss
Galindo told us; for, distrusting any one's
powers of watching and nursing but her own,
she had stolen across the quiet village street
in cloak and dressing-gown, and found Mr.
Gray in vain trying to reach the cup of
barley-water which Mr. Horner had placed
just beyond his reach.

In consequence of Mr. Gray's illness, we
had to have a strange curate to do duty;
a man who dropped his h's, and hurried
through the service, and yet had time enough
to stand in my lady's way, bowing to her as
she came out of church, and so subservient
in manner, that I believe that sooner than
remain unnoticed by a countess, he would
have preferred being scolded, or even cuffed.
Now I found out, that great as was my lady's
liking and approval of respect, nay, even
reverence, being paid to her as a person of
quality,—a sort of tribute to her Order,
which she had no individual right to remit,
or, indeed, not to exact,—yet she, being
personally simple, sincere, and holding herself
in low esteem, could not endure anything like
the servility of Mr. Crosse, the temporary
curate. She grew absolutely to loathe his
perpetual smiling and bowing; his instant
agreement with the slightest opinion she
uttered; his veering round as she blew the
wind. I have often said that my lady did
not talk much, as she might have done had
she lived among her equals. But we all
loved her so much, that we had learnt to
interpret all her little ways pretty truly;
and I knew what particular turns of her
head, and contractions of her delicate fingers
meant, as well as if she had expressed
herself in words. I began to suspect that
my lady would be very thankful to
have Mr. Gray about again, and doing his
duty even with a conscientiousness that
might amount to worrying himself, and
fidgeting others; and, although Mr. Gray
might hold her opinions in as little esteem as
those of any simple gentlewoman, she was
too sensible not to feel how much flavour
there was in his conversation, compared to
that of Mr. Crosse, who was only her tasteless
echo.

As for Miss Galindo, she was utterly and
entirely a partisan of Mr. Gray's, almost ever
since she had begun to nurse him during his
illness.

"You know I never set up for reasonableness,
my lady. So I don't pretend to say, as
I might do if I were a sensible woman and
all that,—that I am convinced by Mr. Gray's
arguments of this thing or t'other. For one
thing, you see, poor fellow! he has never
been able to argue, or hardly indeed to speak,
for Doctor Trevor has been very peremptory.
So there's been no scope for arguing! But
what I mean is this:—When I see a sick
man thinking always of others, and never of
himself; patient, humble—a trifle too much
at times, for I've caught him praying to be
forgiven for having neglected his work as a
parish priest," (Miss Galindo was making
horrible faces, to keep back tears, squeezing
up her eyes in a way which would have
amused me at any other time, but when she
was speaking of Mr. Gray); "when I see a
downright, good, religious man, I'm apt to
think he's got hold of the right clue, and that
I can do no better than hold on by the tails of
his coat and shut my eyes, if we've got to go
over doubtful places on our road to Heaven.
So, my lady, you must excuse me, if, when he
gets about again, he is all agog about a
Sunday school, for if he is, I shall be agog
too, and perhaps twice as bad as him, for, you
see, I've a strong constitution compared to
his, and strong ways of speaking and acting.
And I tell your ladyship this now, because I
think from your rank—and still more, if I
may say so, for all your kindness to me long
ago, down to this very day—you've a right
to be first told of anything about me. Change
of opinion I can't exactly call it, for I don't
see the good of schools and teaching A B C,
any more than I did before, only Mr. Gray
does, so I'm to shut my eyes, and leap over
the ditch to the side of education. I've told
Sally already, that if she does not mind her
work, but stands gossiping with Nelly Mather,
I'll teach her her lessons; and I've never
caught her with old Nelly since."

I think Miss Galindo's desertion to Mr.
Gray's opinions in this matter hurt my lady
just a little bit; but she only said:

"Of course, if the parishioners wish for it,
Mr. Gray must have his Sunday-school. I
shall, in that case, withdraw my opposition.
I am sorry I cannot change my opinions as
easily as you."

My lady made herself smile as she said
this. Miss Galindo saw it was an effort to
do so. She thought a minute before she
spoke again.

"Your ladyship has not seen Mr. Gray as
intimately as I have done. That's one
thing. But, as for the parishioners, they
will follow your ladyship's lead in everything;
so there is no chance of their wishing
for a Sunday-school."

"I have never done anything to make
them follow my lead, as you call it, Miss
Galindo," said my lady, gravely.

"Yes, you have," replied Miss Galindo,
bluntly; and then, correcting herself, she
said, "Begging your ladyship's pardon, you
have. Your ancestors have lived here time
out of mind, and have owned the land on
which their forefathers have lived ever since