Page 13 of Mr Collins in Love
“Ah.There was moss in the grass, and the hazel trees just there, weren’t they, so the raspberries had some shade but could lift up their heads to the sun.Often went there, didn’t we?Couldn’t be seen from the house, there, nor from the road neither.Half-way secret, it was.”
“I often remember it,” I said.“I thought of it today because it was where we met.We ate raspberries there, from your hands.”
“That we did.Well, I used to think of that place, at sea.I’d bring it all up, like, in my mind, and try to remember whether there was speedwell or self-heal at the edges, or both, and whether it was a thrush singing or a lark.And you was with me and it was safe, see, because you was keeping a lookout.And then I could go to sleep.Kept me going, that place.And I know I shall probably never see it again, but there are other places like it around these parts, I’ll lay, if you will let me stay.”
“Let you stay?”I frowned in the dark.“But it is already all decided, is it not?”
“Don’t change nothing?What I have told you?”
“Of course not.Why should it?”
“You always did have your own opinion of the world, Master Willie.”
I could hear the smile in his voice.I liked to hear it, but it worried me too, because there was something here I had not understood.
“Doesn’t everyone?”I said.
“Well, aye, but you know what I mean.Always had your own way of seeing matters, different from the common view.Or you did.I did wonder, being as how you’re a parson now and a man grown besides, that you might be different, but that was my mistake.”
His words frightened me, for they made me realise a fresh danger with him in my household.
“No, no,” I said, rather desperately, “Your mistake is otherwise.You must understand, I have a position to uphold.I am the rector of Hunsford.My opinions are not different or unusual.I comport myself always in a manner fitting for a rector.I am respectable and hold only those opinions that are fitting for a rector.Lady Catherine expects it.As do my parishioners.”
There was a short pause, then he said, slowly and seriously, “I see.Of course.Beg pardon, Master Willie, sir.You are quite right and I was mistook.”
“I do not see things differently from the common view,” I said, desperate to make sure he understood.
“No, no.I beg your pardon.I would unsay that, if I could.”
“I am therector.”It was essential to impress this point upon him.Essential.
“I understand.Certain sure.”
There was some deep sympathy in his voice that blunted the edge of my fear.All the same, I added, “Jem, you must never say to anyone that I have unusual opinions or do or say anything unusual.Do you see?Not even to Milly or Mrs Fowke or George.Or anyone.”
“Never give you away, I won’t.Never.‘Tis all right.You mustn’t worry.”
“It’s important.I have to be the rector.”
“Aye.I know.I promise.”
We sat for some moments in silence, for which I was very glad as I needed time to recover my equilibrium.
Presently, he said, “I can see a star.Moon’s that bright I thought we wouldn’t.”
I looked up.“I can see several.”
“That one—” he pointed, “—they call the harp.”
“I always look for the hunter.”
“Ah, we shall not see him tonight.Too early in the year.”
“I know.But he’s my favourite.Because of his dog.And the rabbit at his feet.”
“Aye.Used to look for him at sea.”
We sat a little longer in contemplation of the heavens and my mind began to thaw and I could think again.
