It was Mildmay who took all the trouble about the funeral, and read the service himself, with a voice full of emotion. The people had scarcely known before how much they felt the loss of Mr. St. John. If the new parson was thus affected, how much more ought they to be! Everybody wept in the churchyard, and Mr. Mildmay laid that day the foundation of a popularity far beyond that which any clergyman of Brentburn, within the memory of man, had enjoyed before. "He was so feelin' hearted," the poor people said; they shed tears for the old curate who was gone, but they became suddenly enthusiasts for the new rector. The one was past, and had got a beautiful funeral, carriages coming from all parts of the county; and what could man desire more? The other was the present, cheerful and full of promise. A thrill of friendliness ran through every corner of the parish. The tragedy which preceded his arrival, strangely enough, made the most favourable preface possible to the commencement of the new reign.
"Do you think I might call upon Miss St. John?" Mildmay asked, the second day after the funeral. "I would not intrude upon her for the world; but they will be going away, I suppose--and if you think I might venture----"
He addressed Mrs. Ascott, but her husband replied. "Venture? to be sure you may venture," said that cheerful person. "Of course you must want to ascertain when they go and all that. Come, I'll go with you myself if you have any scruples. I should like to see Cicely, poor thing! to tell her if I can be of any use---- We are not much in the governessing line; but you, Adelaide, with all your fine friends----"
"Tell her I should have gone to her before now, but that my nerves have been upset with all that has happened," said Mrs. Ascott. "Of course I have written and told her how much I feel for her; but say _everything_ for me, Henry. I will make an effort to go to-morrow, though I know that to enter that house will unhinge me quite. If she is able to talk of business, tell her to refer any one to me. Of course we shall do everything we possibly can."
"Of course; yes, yes, I'll say _everything_," said her husband; but on the way, when Mildmay reluctantly followed him, feeling his purpose defeated, Mr. Ascott gave forth his individual sentiments. "Cicely St. John will never answer as a governess," he said; "she is far too independent, and proud--very proud. So was her father before her. He prided himself, I believe, on never having asked for anything. God bless us! a nice sort of world this would be if nobody asked for anything. That girl spoke to me once about the living as if it was _my_ business to do something in respect to what she thought her father's rights! Ridiculous! but women are very absurd in their notions. She was always what is called a high-spirited girl; the very worst recommendation I think that any girl can have."