The Vicar of Woodside was, in fact, as some people mischievously
called her, the Reverend Petronella Parsons. Whether she wrote her
brother's sermons was a disputed question. She certainly did other
things in his name which she had better have let alone. He was three
or four years her junior, and had always so entirely followed her
lead, that he seemed to have no personal identity; but to be only her
male complement. That Armine should have set up a lady of this
calibre for the first goddess of his fancy was one of the comical
chances of life, but she was a fine, handsome, fresh-looking woman of
five-and-thirty, with a strong vein of sentiment-—ecclesiastical and
poetic-—just ignorant enough to gush freely, and too genuine to be
_always_ offensive. She had been infinitely struck with Armine, had
hung a perfect romance of renovation on him, sympathised with his
every word, and lavished on him what perhaps was not quite flattery,
because she was entirely in earnest, but which was therefore all the
worse for him.
Barbara had a natural repulsion from her, and could not understand
Armine's being attracted, and for the first time in their lives this
was creating a little difference between the brother and sister.
Babie had said, in rather an uncalled-for way, that Miss Parsons
would draw back when she knew the truth, and Armine had been deeply
offended at such an ungenerous hint, and had reduced her to a tearful
declaration that she was very sorry she had said anything so uncalled
for.
Pages:
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576