There were,
too, other scandals, such as the prying and profane love to shoot
privily at church celebrities. Perhaps it was his reserve and sanctity
that provoked them. Perhaps he was, in truth, though cautious, sometimes
indiscreet. Perhaps it was fanciful Mrs. Irons' jealous hullabaloos and
hysterics that did it--I don't know--but people have been observed,
_apropos_ of him, to wink at one another, and grin, and shake their
heads, and say: 'the nearer the church, you know'--and 'he so ancient,
too! but 'tis an old rat that won't eat cheese,' and so forth.
Just as Mrs. Irons whisked round for the seventh time to start upon her
long threatened march to Dr. Walsingham's study to lay her pitiful case
before him, Captain Devereux, who was looking toward the 'Phoenix,'
saw the truant clerk and Mr. Dangerfield turn the corner together on
their return.
'Stay, Madam, here comes the traitor,' said he; 'and, on my honour, 'tis
worse than we thought; for he has led my Lord Castlemallard's old agent
into mischief too--and Meg Partlet has had two swains at her feet this
morning; and, see, the hypocrites have got some trout in their basket,
and their rods on their shoulders--and look, for all the world, as if
they had only been fishing--sly rogues!'
'Well, it's all one,' said Mrs.
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